Page 157 of Moonlighter

“Let me think about it.” I get one more kiss before he stands up again.

“Here.” I lift Rosie toward him. “Hold her for a moment?”

“Anytime.” He perches the baby on his muscular shoulder. Then he catches me around the waist before I can get away. “Hey, I love you.”

“I love you, too. And I know you don’t like to accept help. We’re the same that way.”

“Yeah, we are. But thank you.”

“For what?” I rest my cheek against his other shoulder.

“For everything. For making this transition bearable for me. For reminding me that hockey isn’t everything.”

“You’re right, it isn’t.” I pat his ass. “But does that mean we aren’t watching the game tonight?”

“Oh, we’re watching it,” he says. “It’s time to introduce Rosie to hockey. I wonder how small they make skates?”

I can’t wait to find out.

40

Eric

It isn’teasy to walk into the big meeting room at the practice facility the next day. Because I’m pretty sure I’m doing it for the last time. As a team member anyway.

So I dawdle a little and walk in at the last second, hoping to slip into a chair in the back row.

But Coach isn’t having that. “Eric Bayer!” he calls from the front. “Come down here, will you? There’s something I need to know.”

I hope he doesn’t make a big deal out of this. I know that retiring is the right move for me, but I don’t really want a lot of attention.

“Gentlemen!” he barks. “You recognize this guy?”

There are chuckles around the room.

“I do. I recognize him as somebody who spent last season keeping a cool head while the rest of us were losing our minds. But look—I’ve been your coach for less than a year. I’ve missed a lot of what this man did for the franchise these last ten years. So I’m going to need you to fill me in.”

It’s very quiet in the room now. I stand beside Coach, hands in my pockets, wondering what he means.

“Do me a favor,” Coach says. “If Eric Bayer has given you a casual tip in the gym that changed your whole workout routine for the better, then please stand up.”

Drake pops out of his seat, saying, “Every damn week!” And four or five more of my teammates rise, too.

My neck heats.

“Now stand up if Eric has ever stepped in to spot you when you needed an extra pair of hands in the gym. Or if he’s lent you a piece of equipment, or if he offered to meet you for a run, so you didn’t have to work out alone.”

Half the room stands up now. My neck is on fire.

“That’s what I thought,” Coach says. “Now stand up if you’ve ever taken the seat next to Bayer’s on the jet, or in the bar, because you knew that he wasn’t going to poke you about some dumbass thing you did. Or because you knew he wasn’t going to bring you drama. Stand up if you ever looked at Eric and said—that guy is solid. If I have to be trapped in an elevator, I hope it’s with him.”

Every single person in the room is on his feet, now. Including the coaches and support staff. I’m pretty sure I haven’t cried in twenty-five years. I don’t plan to start today.

But it sure is tempting.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Coach says. “Guys, Eric will be hanging up his skates for a while. But I don’t think we can get along without him. I can’t tell you how it’s going to work, or exactly what Eric will do with us going forward. But I will figure it out, because you don’t lose a man like Eric Bayer. Not without a fight. So please put your hands together for our teammate, Eric Bayer.”

The cheering, the applause, and the whistles are deafening.