Page 14

Chapter Fourteen

Hayden

“So, let me get this straight,” Zara says with a hint of amusement in her voice. “Jackson called you because he needed someone to talk to, and you took it upon yourself to call a plane and fly to Chicago so you could watch his kids?”

I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing until I turned up on Jackson’s doorstep earlier. All I knew was I hated the sound of panic in his voice, and I wanted to take away his stress. I wasn’t thinking about how terrible I am with kids or how I can barely take care of myself when I’m sick, let alone two little humans. I haven’t even booked a hotel room for the night. I kinda acted and figured I’d think about it later.

I’ve always been impulsive when it comes to Jackson.

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds kinda desperate, doesn’t it?” I groan.

I can hear the smile in her voice when she sighs, “No, Hayden. It sounds incredibly thoughtful and caring. I’m just… surprised, is all. You used to run away whenever babies or children were around. You never ran to babysit. ”

It’s not a lie. When we lived in Boston, I would try and stay away whenever a teammate had a baby. I’d linger near the back of the room because what the fuck do you do with a baby? They just sleep. Or scream, and hell, I didn’t want to drop it or make it cry. I would’ve felt like the worst person in the world if I made a baby cry. Even during the team hospital visits, it wasn’t so bad with the older kids because I could talk hockey or whatever the latest superhero movie was, but otherwise, I was this awkward, robotic guy who didn’t know how to speak to a child.

I mean, all I did when I was a kid was talk about hockey.

But now, I’ve willingly volunteered to take care of two sick kids. I’ve flown halfway across the country because the man I want more than anything needed help. He didn’t ask for it, but I also don’t want to let him down or make him regret this, so I’ve been on high alert since he left for the arena an hour ago.

“Maybe this was a mistake,” I mumble, running a hand down my face. “What if they need something and I can’t get up the stairs quick enough because I’m hurting?”

She ignores my panic and focuses on the last part. “You’re in pain?”

“Yeah. I had to cancel my session with Roberta and my trip to Seattle to see that ball player.”

“Hayden,” she scolds. “If this was anyone but Jackson, I would be giving you so much shit right now. Please tell me you’ve taken your meds?”

“Of course I have. I’m not that dumb.”

She curses under her breath. “I swear, you stress me out so bad. ”

While I know she doesn’t mean it in a negative way, I can’t help but take it in that sense. I stressed her out with my pain. With my depression. I stressed her out to the point we got a divorce because I was too much to deal with.

“I’m sorry,” I say, barely above a whisper.

“Nope. Not doing that,” she snaps. “You know I don’t mean literally. I just worry about you.”

Panic rises inside me when I hear the soft footfalls coming down the stairs. Maybe they just want toast or a drink of water. I can do that. I can put cartoons on the TV, and Jackson’s game starts soon too.

“I’ve gotta go,” I tell Zara. “The kids are awake.”

“Good luck! Call me if you need me.”

I hang up, and Ryan’s voice comes from behind me. “Hayden? Can we sit with you and watch some TV?”

I glance over my shoulder to see him standing with Isabela in front of him. He’s got a blanket under one arm and his other wrapped around his sister’s shoulders. I can understand what Jackson means when he says Ryan acts so much older than eight.

“Of course you can. Do you want anything to eat? Or something to drink?” I push myself up off the couch and have to hide my grimace as pain jolts through me. Maybe I can take some more pain relief while I wait for their toast.

They climb onto the sectional in one corner, and Isabela watches me with wide eyes that are the exact same shade of blue as Jackson’s. She’s hugging a stuffed elephant to her chest, and she’s got some color in her cheeks this time, which is good to see.

That is a good sign, right? That’s what Google told me earlier when I looked up how to care for kids with a sickness bug.

Ryan wraps the blanket over their legs, then leans back into the cushions. “Can we have toast and some water? Oh, can we put Bluey on too? That’s Izzy’s favorite.”

“Yeah. Yes, I… uh…” I glance around, not knowing what to do first. I pick up the TV remote with shaky hands and end up dropping it. There’s a light giggle, and I look up to see Isabela hiding her face behind her elephant. I can’t help but grin.

Shit, I made her laugh.

I made her laugh !

I pick up the remote again and flick through the channels, then realize I have no idea what channel it’s on, so I hand the remote to Ryan. “You can be in charge of this. I’ll go make some toast.”

He thanks me, and I head into the kitchen. I shake my hands out at my sides, trying to calm the nerves rippling through me.

I can do this. I can take care of them until Jackson gets home.

Retrieving the loaf of bread from the pantry, I quickly get to work making their toast and filling two cups with water, and when I carry it back into the living room, my breathing has started to steady.

“Here you go. Let me know if you want any more,” I say, handing the two plastic plates over, then putting the cups on the coffee table.

“Thanks, Hayden.” Ryan smiles, then takes a large bite into the slice of toast.

“Thank you,” Isabela says quietly, watching me as I sit down on the other side of the couch. She doesn’t take her eyes off me while she eats, and I can’t help but wonder what she’s thinking.

Does she see all my flaws? Does she see that I’m pretty much shitting myself with anxiety because these two are the most important things to Jackson, and he’s the most important thing to me?

There’s a comfortable silence in the living room while they eat, and I find myself getting engrossed in the Bluey episodes. My phone chimes, and when I pick it up, it’s the NHL app alerting me that the Thunder game is about to begin.

“Did you want to watch your dad’s game?” I ask.

“Yes, please!” Ryan nods. “They’re playing St. Louis tonight. I always like when they play St. Louis because it’s usually fast.”

I chuckle. “That’s true. There’s always been a great rivalry there.”

He changes the channel, and the bright white sheet of ice fills the screen.

“Daddy!” Isabela puts her hands in the air when Jackson comes on the screen. “Go, Daddy!”

I grin.

She starts pointing out every player by name, gradually getting more enthusiastic. When the camera pans on Elliot sitting on the bench, as he’s not starting tonight, she pouts.

“Is Elliot your favorite?” I ask her. I already know the answer, but I’m trying to keep her comfortable.

She looks at me out of the corner of her eye and nods ever so gently.

“He’s fun.” I smile at her, and the corner of her lips tip up in a small smile.

The first period goes scoreless, but it doesn’t go without any action. The Thunder take twelve shots on goal but fail to sink one into the net. Blaine gets a holding penalty, which Ryan responds to with a roll of his eyes.

“He’s always getting a penalty,” he tsks. “The dude doesn’t know how to be chill.”

I bark out a laugh because being chill isn’t something that’s associated with Blaine Olsen. “It is one of Blaine’s worst traits.”

“Hey, Hayden. What’s your full name?” he asks, changing the subject.

“Hayden Cassidy.”

“I thought so.” He nods thoughtfully. “Dad has some of your hockey cards.”

My eyebrows must skyrocket off my face with shock. “He does?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t allowed to put them in my folder. I’ve been trying to collect all the seasons since the year I was born.”

Well, fuck. Jackson’s kept some of my cards? To anyone else, it probably wouldn’t mean anything, but to me, it means everything. It means he’s still thought about me over the years. Thought of me enough to keep a piece of card for himself. I wonder where he keeps it.

His bedside drawer, maybe?

I have to hide my smile with my hand as the thought takes over.

Halfway through the second period, I take off my hoodie and throw it over the back of the couch. There’s a small gasp, and I turn to see Isabela pointing at my arms.

“You have pictures,” Isabela says, voice barely audible.

I glance down at where my tattoos are now visible. “Yeah, I have lots of pictures.”

Her eyes light up with glee.

“You like pictures?”

She nods, and then Ryan answers. “She likes coloring them in. Ethan and Zach let her color in their tattoos because Dad doesn’t have any.”

I look down at my arms. One sleeve is full color, whereas the other is black and gray, but there’s plenty there for her to fill in.

“Do you want to color mine in?” I ask her.

Wordlessly, she nods softly, then slides off the couch, still hugging her elephant tight to her chest. She doesn’t take her eyes off me as she walks around the couch and disappears down the hall, returning minutes later with a bag of markers. She climbs onto the couch next to me and unzips the bag, so I angle myself in the corner of the sectional, allowing her better access to my arm, and push my T-shirt sleeve up to my shoulder.

“Have at it.” I grin.

She’s quiet while she draws on my skin with gentle strokes of the marker, sometimes holding my arm with her tiny hand to move it to a different position. Ryan and I chat about the game, cheering when Peyton scores the first goal in the second period. By the time the teams take the ice for third period, Isabela has fallen asleep with her marker in one hand and her elephant in the other. I carefully take it from her, popping the lid back on and zipping the bag up. I lean over to put it on the coffee table, then glance over to Ryan. His eyes are heavy, like he’s struggling to stay awake. Picking up the TV remote, I turn the volume down and settle back into the couch. It’s not long before my eyes become heavy too, and I join the kids by falling asleep on the couch.