Page 5

Chapter Five

Jackson

3 months later - October

“Dad, have you seen my gloves?” Ryan asks, skidding across the wooden floor in his socks and stopping in the doorway. “They’re not in my hockey bag.”

I glance up from where I’m currently packing Isabela’s bag on her bed. I leave for my first road trip of the season in less than two hours, and as usual, I’ve left everything to the last minute. I haven’t had time to shower yet or have a coffee.

Being undercaffeinated and up against the clock is not a good mix.

“Where did you have them last?” I ask, folding a set of pajamas, but before I can quiz Ryan more on the whereabouts of his gloves, Isabela snatches the pajamas out of my hand and tosses them onto the floor.

“No, not them,” she scolds and jumps off the bed .

I’m startled by her outburst, unable to do anything except stand there, wide-eyed, while she grabs another set out of her chest of drawers and hands them over with a sweet smile. Like she didn’t turn into a wet gremlin a few seconds ago. “These, Daddy. Pink unicorns.”

“Yeah, sure, okay,” I say absentmindedly and stuff them into the bag. She’s been throwing more temper tantrums recently. I don’t know if she’s having big feelings about being back at preschool and the hockey season starting again, but I’ve definitely been noticing more behavioral challenges than normal, and I’m not quite sure how to handle them.

When I look up again, she’s taken her socks off and has started to pull various toys out of her toy box, scattering them across the floor.

My mom’s going to flip when she sees the state of the house.

With a sigh, I squeeze my temples with my thumb and middle finger. I try to keep my voice as calm as possible. “Peanut, I need you to put your socks back on and put your toys away. Gigi is going to be here in less than twenty minutes, and you know Gigi doesn’t like the house being in a mess.”

The sound of rubber balls bouncing against the wall snaps my attention back to the hallway, and I’m unable to stop the loud groan escaping me. Ryan’s dragged his pop-up goalie net into the hallway and is using his mini stick to hit rubber balls into it.

Why do my kids make things ten times harder than they need to be?

“Ryan, that needs to go back into your room. Now. We don’t have time for that. Where did you have your gloves last? They haven’t grown legs and climbed out of your bag, so they have to be somewhere.”

“Dunno.” He shrugs, then continues to fire the balls at the net.

Tension crawls up the back of my neck, and I turn to face the window. I squeeze my eyes shut before taking a deep, steadying breath. It’s always a stressful time whenever I need to go on the road, even more so today because I’m exhausted and in desperate need of a coffee.

It’s not the kids’ fault I’m an unorganized mess. There’s no excuse for it. I’ve known about this road trip for a while. I’ve had plenty of time to get their bags packed and ready for my mom to pick them up, so I have no one else but myself to blame for falling asleep on the couch after opening a bottle of wine last night instead of packing my own bag.

Hello, failure as a parent, it’s me.

It’s only the first week of October, and I already feel like I’m burning the candle at both ends. But the fool that I am, I’m too proud—okay, maybe more like too stubborn—to ask for more help than I’m already getting.

The regular season is now underway, meaning my parents are pretty much taking care of the kids for me. Most mornings, I can take them to school and occasionally pick them up if it’s not a game day, but usually, it comes down to my mom and dad. Isabela is now in preschool for longer hours, and Ryan has moved up into a mites hockey team and trains multiple times a week after school. It’s been a case of finding the right balance.

Something I’ve failed to do so far.

I don’t want to ask my parents for even more help. They’ve already done the school run and hockey practice years with me and my sister. This is supposed to be their retirement. A time to relax and take it easy. Not picking up the pieces of my life after me.

I spend the next twenty minutes frantically packing both their bags, and by the time my mom walks through the door, I’m flustered and impatient as the coffee machine slowly whirls to life.

Her gaze bounces around the open-plan kitchen/family room, jaw gradually dropping open. There’s stuff everywhere. Clothes, toys, colored markers, and pieces of paper. You name it, it’s probably on the floor or the couch or the countertop. I’m grateful my housekeeper is coming while I’m gone, but it doesn’t mean I don’t feel like an ass for leaving it in this mess. I make a mental note to leave her some extra cash on the side.

“Wow, Jackson. I thought I’d taught you to be a lot cleaner than this.” My mom picks up a plate with a half-eaten slice of toast.

Glowering, I take the plate from her and discard the food into the trash before putting it in the dishwasher and slamming the door closed.

“Now is not the time to be commenting on my housekeeping skills, Mom,” I say between clenched teeth.

She holds both hands up in submission. “Hey, no need to be snappy. What do you need me to do?” She flicks her wrist to look at her watch, then eyes my disheveled state with furrowed brows. “Don’t you need to leave soon?”

“Yes, I do, but I haven’t showered, or had a coffee yet, or packed my own bag.”

Sighing, she walks into the kitchen and pats my hip with the back of her hand, motioning for me to move out of the way. “Go get in the shower and sort your bag out. I’ll make you a large cup of coffee and deal with the kids.”

And like they’ve been summoned, they come running down the stairs like a herd of elephants, shouting, “Gigi!” and launching themselves at my mom.

Not needing to be told twice, I disappear up the stairs without a word and into my en suite. I strip out of my plaid pajama pants and T-shirt and step under the warm spray.

As much as I love my kids and wouldn’t change them for the world, I’m looking forward to this road trip. But the relieved feeling is soon replaced with guilt because what parent looks forward to a night or so away from their children?

I know Laura’s and my divorce was for the best, but it’s fucking tough being a single parent. I’m fortunate I don’t have the financial pressures other parents do, allowing me to pay for a housekeeper and a chef to prepare meals for me so I only have to think about feeding the kids when my mom hasn’t fed them already, but it’s a constant juggling act. During the season, I’m working hard to keep my performance up, ensuring I eat well and rest enough. Being one of the older guys on the team means I have to work that bit harder than the younger guys. It’s being on the road and missing important moments in the kids’ lives. It’s spending quality time with them, both together and alone, and making sure they know they’re loved and supported while also providing structure and discipline.

And while I’m trying my best at doing all of that, it’s remembering who I am too. Not as Jackson Wilde, forward for the Chicago Thunder and alternate captain, or Dad .

It’s remembering I’m also Jackson Wilde, the guy who enjoys cooking and listening to Frank Sinatra and enjoys lazy Sundays in bed with a good thriller.

Because outside of every other hat I wear, I’m not sure I remember who I am anymore.

And it kinda sucks.

We arrive in Boston just before noon. Once my mom left with the kids, I headed to the practice facility for a light workout before our flight, and the moment the plane door closed, it was like the chaos of the morning caught up with me because I was out like a light and slept for most of the two-hour journey.

Now we’re at the hotel, and we have some downtime ahead of tonight’s game. Some of the guys head into their respective rooms, either to take a nap or FaceTime with their partners, but me? I always feel a sense of melancholy whenever I’m in Boston. The last thing I want is to hole up on my own, so I drop my bag, then head toward the elevators.

I haven’t lived in this city for fourteen years, but it still holds a lot of memories for me. I started my career here. I was drafted at eighteen and spent a season on the development team in Providence before being called up to play my first game in the NHL game just shy of my nineteenth birthday.

And it’s where I met Hayden.

I was already in awe of him before I was called up. He started his professional career as an undrafted free agent, and even early on, he was a polarizing figure, making waves from his first game. You could say I was captivated by him before he opened his mouth and introduced himself. It was easy to fall in love with him.

We had three blissful years together until I got traded to Los Angeles and it all fell apart.

“Hey, Jackson?”

I turn at the sound of my name, mentally snapping myself out of the cloud my head disappeared into. Elliot jogs down the hall, having changed into sweats and a hoodie that looks a few sizes too big for him.

“Are you going for a walk?” he asks, stepping into the elevator with me when the doors open.

“Yeah, I am.” Normally, I go for a walk on my own, but something in Elliot’s expression is telling me my goalie needs company. “Did you want to come with?”

“That would be cool, if you don’t mind.” He slumps against the back wall. He’s staring at his Converse, blond hair falling around his face.

We’re silent as we head out onto the street, and I lead us in the direction of Boston Common. It’s only a short walk from the hotel, but it’s always been one of my favorite places to visit. No matter the weather, I always make time to do a lap around the park. It’s beautiful this time of year too. The greenery has started to turn a gorgeous, vibrant mix of deep yellow, red, and orange, making it a sight to behold.

“So, what’s up? Is everything okay?” I ask.

“Yeah. I mean…” He sighs and shakes his head. “Yeah, it’s fine. My brain’s just a little loud at the moment.”

I nod in understanding. “I get that. It makes it hard to nap when your brain’s busy. ”

We fall into a comfortable silence again as we pass the bandstand and continue our way around the trail. It’s a mild day, so we make sure to move out of the way of a few runners and dog walkers.

At least five minutes have gone by when Elliot’s question catches me off guard. “Do you ever get lonely on the road?”

I tilt my head toward him. “What do you mean?”

“Like, everyone is pretty much coupled up now, apart from you and Peyton and a couple of the younger guys. But road trips used to be fun. We’d play Ping-Pong or gate-crash Zach’s room to play video games, but now… Now, they don’t wanna play Ping-Pong. They just wanna be in their rooms and speak to their partners.” He shrugs. I can tell he’s trying to appear unbothered, but I can see the underlying hurt. “It can be lonely, I guess. I’m not very good with change.”

I think through my words carefully. I’ve come to learn that Elliot’s a sensitive soul beneath the laughter and bubbly persona. He takes things to heart a lot more than others would, and I can imagine the change in the dynamic with his twin getting married has caused some of this.

“Sometimes,” I admit, because it’s the truth. I’ve only been in two relationships, but there are days where I miss having that someone in my corner, no matter how the game went. “But usually, I’m so focused on the game ahead and trying not to beat myself up for leaving my kids and feeling like a shit dad that I don’t really have the time to think about anything else, you know?”

He stuffs his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie and nods. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“And when I’m not feeling guilty, I’m enjoying the fact I can get a decent night’s sleep without being woken up by getting kneed in the balls at 4:00 a.m.,” I chuckle.

Elliot lets out a bark of laughter.

“Does this have anything to do with your brother getting married, by any chance?” I ask after a beat.

“Yeah, kinda. Don’t get me wrong, I love Alex. I think he’s so awesome, and I’m so happy he’s my bro-in-law, but…” He worries his bottom lip, then makes a frustrated noise. “Ugh, I feel like such a dick for thinking this, but I feel like I’ve been replaced in Blaine’s life. And I know that’s not the case, but the irrational part of my brain doesn’t want to get on board.”

“I don’t think you’re an asshole for feeling like that. You two have a unique relationship, something only other twins can truly understand. Maybe it’ll be easier once you meet someone yourself?”

A pensive look crosses his face. “Have you ever had that? Where you have the need to be with them all the time, even if it’s over the phone?”

Hayden instantly comes to mind. Something that’s happened a lot over the last three months. We were inseparable during our relationship. We spent every moment possible together, whether it be on the road, in the confines of our home, or even in the locker room. We would play together, train together, and eat together. At night, we would sneak into each other’s hotel room on the road, and I pretty much lived at Hayden’s apartment in Seaport until the day I was shipped off to LA.

A trickle of annoyance claws up my throat, making my skin heat. It’s like he’s planted his handsome ass back into my mind since the wedding, and I’ve been unable to think about anything else but him. Along with all the unanswered questions I have.

“Yeah, a long time ago. It didn’t last, though,” I say.

We finish our loop of the park, then head back to the hotel. The fresh air and Elliot’s company have helped clear my mind, and hopefully, I’ve done the same for him. He’s a good guy, and I hate knowing he’s feeling dejected.

“Hey, Jackson?” Elliot calls out as I reach the door to my room. “I know it’s easy for me to say, but you shouldn’t feel guilty. You’re an awesome dad, and you’ve got two awesome kids who love the hell out of you. You should give yourself some grace and stop holding yourself to this made-up standard.” He smiles. “You’re doing awesome, okay?”

“Thanks, El. I appreciate it.” I smile back. “And I’m here if you need me, okay? You’re not alone in this.”

Once I’m back in my room, I set an alarm and strip down to my boxer briefs. My eyes are heavy by the time I slip under the covers, and like every time I’m in Boston, I fall asleep with the thought of Hayden on my mind.