Page 17 of One Good Puck (Denver Bashers #5)

Abby

“ M om, Gavin is so funny. Remember when he made that funny face with the pickles and cucumbers and tomatoes for girl dinner?”

I smile so hard, my cheeks hurt. Last week, Gavin made girl dinner for Emma every time she asked for it, which was a total of four times.

“I do remember. You said it was your favorite dinner of all the dinners we had last week,” I say.

She grins, then pops a small wedge of cheese into her mouth from her plate. She swings her legs on the stool she’s sitting on at the kitchen island.

“How do you like tonight’s girl dinner?” I ask.

She gives me a thumbs up while she chews.

“As good as Gavin’s girl dinner?”

She nods, and I chuckle. “Wow. That’s quite a compliment.”

“Gavin makes funnier designs with the food though.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

My chest goes all warm and gooey when I think about how good Gavin is with Emma. I probably shouldn’t be so surprised. He has a daughter, who he raised as a single dad ever since she was thirteen. Of course he’d be good with Emma.

But the reason I’m so stunned is probably because I’m not used to seeing such an attentive and kind man around Emma. My ex—her father—made it clear he wasn’t interested in being there for her after walking out on us when she was a baby.

Sadness seeps into the happy feeling currently coursing through me.

I look at Emma as she smiles down at her food, giggling at the funny faces she’s making with her green beans and chicken meatballs.

It feels like my heart is on the verge of bursting at just how much I love her.

Just the thought of abandoning her makes me want to vomit.

She’s my entire life—my whole heart. My daughter. How could her father do such a thing?

I push aside the feeling and focus on the moment. No more thinking about him. I’m having dinner with my daughter at my friend’s beautiful house.

Friend.

That word snags in my brain. I think back to the other night at Del and Ingrid’s engagement party, when we talked about how Gavin defended his wife against her ex. When I told him that I was drawn to a man who would burn the world down for the woman he loves.

I still remember that look in his eyes when I said it. How his icy blue gaze turned fiery as he stared at me.

The way he said my name, his voice a low, sexy growl.

The way I wished he would have kept talking.

But he didn’t. Because before he could finish, it was time for Ingrid and Del’s toast. And once that was over, Gavin and I got pulled into separate conversations, and the moment was over. I couldn’t ask him what he was going to say after all that. It would have been weird.

But I have been fantasizing about what I wish he would have said.

Ever since that night, I’ve fantasized about him looking me in the eye, that raw want in his gaze, and saying, “I’d burn the world down for you, Abby.”

Embarrassment cooks me from the inside out, just like it has every time I’ve entertained that silly fantasy. No way was he going to say that. It was a fleeting moment after an emotionally charged conversation, that’s it. Nothing more.

“Mommy, can you text this picture to Gavin?” Emma asks, pulling me back to the moment.

She pulls out a drawing from her backpack, which is next to her dinner plate on the kitchen island.

“I made it for him today at school,” she says.

I smile at the stick figure scrawled in crayon. Next to him are a hockey stick and ice skates. She wrote, “Good luck, Gavin!” in big letters at the top.

“Oh, honey, that’s so sweet. He’s going to love that.”

I snap a photo and text it to him along with a quick message.

Emma made this for you to bring you and the guys good luck while you’re away.

Gavin’s been gone the past week for a string of away games. He’s due back in a couple of nights.

Not even a minute later, my phone buzzes with a text.

Gavin: That made my whole day. Tell her thank you.

Gavin: Actually, would it be okay if I FaceTimed you and Emma so I can tell her thank you face-to-face?

Me: Absolutely! She’d love that :)

“Emma, honey, Gavin’s going to call us to say hi.”

A minute later, my phone rings with a FaceTime call.

I sit down on the stool next to Emma and position the phone so we’re both on screen, then answer it.

His handsome face appears on screen. “Hey, ladies. How’s your evening going?”

“Pretty good,” Emma says. “Mom made girl dinner.”

“Nice. I bet it’s yummy,” Gavin says.

Emma nods.

“She did make it a point to tell me that you’re better at making funny faces with the food.”

“Yeah, you are. Way better,” Emma says to Gavin.

He laughs. “I’m honored you think that. Emma, thanks so much for that picture you drew me. I love it.”

She smiles even bigger. “You do?”

“Oh, yeah. Seeing that picture was the best part of my day.”

That warm feeling in my chest deepens.

“Would it be okay if you hang it up on the fridge?” he asks.

Emma’s face brightens.

“Yeah, of course,” I say.

“So what’d you do in school today? Anything fun?” Gavin asks Emma.

She starts talking about how they learned about the Pony Express in social studies class.

“When I was little, I asked Mom if I could have a pony, but she said no. ”

I chuckle and shake my head. “Not sure how we would have made that work in the small apartment we lived in at the time,” I say.

“I’ve gotta side with your mom, kiddo. Ponies in the house are a no-go.”

Emma makes a mock-pouty face, which makes Gavin and me laugh at the same time.

“Oh, and then we played indoor hockey for PE,” Emma says.

“That sounds fun,” he says.

“It was! I scored a goal.”

“Nice job,” Gavin says. “Did you check anybody into the boards?”

Emma laughs. “No, silly. That’s not allowed at school.”

“Oh, right.”

I watch the two of them chat and laugh as Emma tells Gavin about the game. I catch myself grinning hard at how attentive Gavin is. He looks genuinely interested in everything she’s saying.

“So how’s it going on the road?” I ask when Emma finishes talking.

“Pretty good so far,” Gavin says. “We won yesterday and the game before that. I’m hoping we can keep the streak going when we play Detroit tomorrow.”

I check the time. “Emma, honey, it’s time to get ready for bed.”

She makes a whiny noise. “Do I have to?”

“Yes, honey, you do.”

“But I wanna keep talking to Gavin.”

He starts to smile.

“I understand, honey, but you need to get some rest. Otherwise, you’re cranky in the morning, remember?”

She makes another whiny noise, but nods anyway .

“We can all FaceTime again tomorrow if you want, Emma,” Gavin says.

She perks up. “Okay! Bye, Gavin!”

“Bye, kiddo.”

She hops off the stool and takes her empty plate to the sink, then walks across the dining room and living room to the other end of the house, where her bedroom is.

“You don’t have to FaceTime with her tomorrow,” I say to Gavin. “I know you’re probably going to be busy.”

“I’d like to, if that’s okay with you.”

That warm feeling inside of me turns ooey gooey.

“Yeah, of course.”

A warm smile pulls at his lips. “I’m honestly happy to FaceTime whenever she wants. It’s nice to talk to someone on the phone instead of just texting, which is all people seem to want to do these days. Wow, I sound like an old man.”

I burst out laughing. “No, it’s sweet. And cute.”

I don’t miss the way his eyes light up when I say that.

“It was so sweet how excited you were about her drawing,” I say.

“It really did mean the world,” he says.

“Sophie used to draw me pictures and cards when she was little, and I was traveling a lot to play. Nicole would hang them on the fridge and the mirror in our bathroom. It was always the best feeling, coming home to those little gifts she made me. Emma’s drawing reminded me of that. ”

I go quiet, heartened by what he’s said.

He clears his throat. “Sorry, I hope it wasn’t weird that I said that…”

“Not at all. I’m so happy you feel that way.”

There’s a quiet moment where we just look at each other, smiling .

“Mom! I ran out of toothpaste!” Emma hollers.

Both Gavin and I chuckle.

“Mom duty calls.”

He smiles. “Have a good night, Abby.”

“You too. Talk to you again tomorrow night?”

“Can’t wait. Oh hey, I left something for you on the table in the guest house.”

“Aww, really?”

“It’s just a little something I thought you might like.”

“I’ll go check it out after I help Emma. Thanks, Gavin.”

“Yeah, of course.”

When we hang up, I head to Emma’s bathroom, which is next to her bedroom, and dig through the drawers until I find a fresh tube of toothpaste.

Once she gets started brushing her teeth, I head to the guest house. I flip on the light and walk over to the table. When I see what Gavin left me, I gasp.

It’s a massive set of oil pastels, a stack of blank canvas boards, a pad of blank pastel paper, and a brand new brush kit.

When I see what kind of oil pastels they are, I gasp again. This is the most expensive, high-quality brand. I could never afford these.

I open up the kit and breathe in the earthy, waxy scent. My eyes go wide at how many colors are included in this seventy-two-piece set. Literally every color and shade imaginable. I’ve never had a set this big.

Emotion bubbles up inside of me. It’s been years since I’ve had a decent oil pastel set—not since before Emma was born.

The urge to sit down at the table and start drawing hits me. Not yet thought.

I grab my phone and text Gavin.

Me: Gavin! You got me a new oil pastel set??

Gavin: I did

Me: Oh my gosh! Thank you! SO MUCH!! I can’t even begin to tell you how excited I am to use this!

Gavin: I’m so glad you like it.

Me: You didn’t have to do this. It’s too much.

Gavin: It’s not too much. I wanted you to be able to create the art you want, Abby. You deserve to.

I’m speechless as I stare down at my phone screen, blown away at how thoughtful this is. Another wave of emotion washes over me, this time hitting me square in the chest.

Me: This means so much. I can’t thank you enough.

Gavin: It’s my pleasure. I can’t wait to see what you create.

I’m buzzing as I run back to the house and tuck Emma back into bed. After she falls asleep, I head back to the guest house and sit down at the table. I open up the oil pastel kit and skim the colors. I fixate on one of the blue shades. Rich and deep and crystal, like the ocean. Like Gavin’s eyes.

I bite back a smile as I grab a piece of pastel paper and draw.