Page 38 of Learn Your Lesson

“It’s a lightning-fast release from number ten, Ava Perry,” she said, sticking her little tongue out. “And the puck goes up and over the glove of Will ‘Pickles’ Perry! Goal!”

Ava threw her hands up in victory, pretending to skate around me by sliding on her socks across the tile floor. That earned her a hearty chuckle from Chloe, and I tongued my cheek before swooping my daughter into my arms on her second lap around me.

I knew she picked number ten because it was well known that it was her favorite pop star’s favorite number. Mia Love was impossible to avoid regardless of who you were or what your musical preference — but especially as the father of a five-year-old girl.

Ava giggled as I swung her high, spinning her around once before plopping her back down. I patted her helmet with the corner of my mouth turning up.

“Nice shot, Pumpkin. I didn’t realize I was raising the next Wayne Gretzky.”

“I think I’m more like Gordie Howe,” she argued, shimmying her shoulders in the way she usually did when she was telling me off. “Look what Chloe made me!”

She did a little spin, holding her arms out to make sure I could see the intricate stitching on the jersey. And when she stopped, she beamed up at me, a wide smile spanning her adorable face.

A smile.

Fuck.

My chest tightened at the sight of it, at how it took up her whole face and shone like spotlight onto me. When I glanced at Chloe again, I knew I wasn’t wrong. Her eyes weredefinitelywatering.

Honestly, mine would have been, too, if I wasn’t emotionally stunted.

I dropped to my daughter’s level, bracing my hands on her shoulders as I took in every inch of the mini-sized gear she wore.

“This is, by far, the coolest thing I have ever seen.”

“I look like a real hockey player!”

“You sure do,” I agreed, tapping the mask of her helmet. “A forward, no doubt.”

“Right winger.” She dropped into her stance again, tongue sticking out as she pretended like she was gliding down the ice.

I looked around until I found something suitable for a makeshift puck, and when my eyes landed on our paper towel holder, I quickly tore one off and bunched it up, dropping it to the floor.

“Okay, Pigeon. Let’s see your moves.”

My daughter lit up like I’d never seen in my life for the next twenty minutes or so, batting that rumpled-up paper towel across our kitchen and dining area and scoring on me every time.

Not that I was trying very hard to block her.

Mostly, I was trying to breathe past the knot in mychest at the sight of her having fun, of the way her face looked entirely different when she sported a toothy grin.

After her fifth celly dance — which consisted of her holding the stick above her head and doing some weird wiggle maneuver with her legs — I slung her up over my shoulder and pretended like I was going to toss her into the pool.

“No, Daddy! You’ll ruin my outfit!”

All the playfulness left her at the thought of that atrocity, and I slung her back over my shoulder and carried her inside, setting her down just a few feet in front of Chloe.

“Did you tell Miss Knott thank you?”

“A bajillion times,” Ava assured me. But then, she turned and wrapped her arms around Chloe’s legs, squeezing as tight as she could with all the padding. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“You’re so welcome, my little angel bug,” Chloe said, hugging her in return. Then, she bent down and looked Ava in the eyes. “How about we go hang this up so it doesn’t get wrinkly, and get you in the tub.”

“Can I play with my toys?”

“Well, I don’t see how we can leave the story of Princess Unicorn and Prince Duck untold after that major cliffhanger last night.”

Ava scrunched her nose. “What’s a cliffhanger?”