Page 12 of Puck Love (The Elmwood Stories #6)

12

JAKE

“ C an you push me higher?”

I widened my eyes in dismay at the bossy pipsqueak in a floral sundress. “How high?”

Charlotte pointed north. “To the sky.”

“All right. One trip to the moon coming up.” I grabbed the plastic swing seat and held it at my shoulders, pursing my lips as my little sister laughed like a loon. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

I lifted her above my head, eliciting a squawk and a new round of giggles before I ran underneath it, sending Charlotte flying at a ninety-degree angle.

“Jake!” Dad marched onto the deck with Ella at his heels and scowled. “Be careful! That’s too high.”

“No, Papa! It’s fun,” Char insisted, kicking her little legs in the air. She started singing a Disney princess song at the top of her lungs and swaying her ponytail, supremely confident and without a care in the world.

“Me too,” Ella said, running to the swing set. “Swing me high, Jakey.”

“You got it.” I melted. I couldn’t help it. My little sisters were the freaking cutest things ever.

Needless to say, Ella’s version of “high” and Charlotte’s were a little different.

Dad fussed anyway. “Be careful.”

I gave him the “Oh, please” look he deserved but dutifully kept Ella’s swing moving at a slower pitch.

“Where’s Nathan?” I asked.

“He’s helping Smitty choose pool toys to take to Vinnie and Nolan’s house for their barbecue. You’re coming, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I was planning on it.”

Dad and Smitty usually hosted the annual barbecue welcoming the slew of professional hockey players to Elmwood for Juniors’ Camp, but Vinnie and Nolan’s new pool was a big draw. Smitty claimed he was bummed they’d stolen their party away, but I think they were both secretly happy to pass the baton. My old childhood home was generally party central, crawling with neighborhood kids and friends.

The house was a lot more lively than it had been in my teenage years. I’d had my hockey buddies over occasionally, but I’d also spent a couple of weeks a month with my mom. I hadn’t thought about my father being lonely here till I’d moved away for college. And then he met Smitty and…let’s just say, the house was unrecognizable now.

It was still neat and tidy ’cause Dad was a stickler for organization, but it was a family home filled with toys and dogs and laughter…lots of laughter. There was always food on the stove or yummy leftovers in the fridge, always a kid or three on hand screaming with glee when I walked in the door. It was pure chaos.

I had a perfectly nice house on the edge of town with a brand-new kitchen and a huge private yard that abutted the woods, yet somehow, I preferred this. My place was a sweet respite from the mayhem, but…it was kind of lonely. Here, there were no unused rooms where silence clung to the walls like lost ghosts.

“Good. I could use help keeping an eye on our swimmers,” Dad said, squeezing my shoulder.

A word about Bryson Milligan. He was a handsome man in his fifties, tall and lean with salt and pepper hair. Dad was a successful real estate agent, a devoted father, and the nicest guy in the Four Forest area. Ask anyone.

He was the type who went out of his way to be involved in the community. He’d signed up for every volunteer position in town from bingo master to high school dance chaperone, and donated to every cause. Dad was quick with a smile and had a knack for remembering names. When I’d been a kid, everyone had gushed about how lucky I was to have such an amazing father.

They all loved my mom too, but she was an Elmwood native who’d never had to worry about fitting in. I’d never thought about how difficult it had been for him to be a single gay divorcee coparenting a kid in a small town where everyone knew your business. But he’d never complained. In fact, my dad had gone out of his way to make his entire life revolve around me.

And I knew it.

I’d always known there were sacrifices—fun-filled weekends curated to fit whatever activity I’d shown interest in as a child had been interspersed with long days alone for him. He’d never seemed to mind driving me to hockey practices or traveling to games all over the East Coast. To me, it was our thing. Mom was there too, but she had an outside life with her new husband that I hadn’t really been part of. And that was fine by me.

Dad had me…and together, we had hockey.

I’d been a pretty sensitive kid, though, and I’d sensed his loneliness, but I hadn’t known how to help. Mom had told me not to worry so much. That Dad just wanted to see me play…and hopefully win. She’d added the part about winning as a joke, but at some point, I’d decided that I owed it to him to win. To be the best.

I’d scoured the crowd looking for him before every game, waving with a big toothy grin in my bantam years to a subtle, cool kid up-nod in high school. I’d celebrated every win with my father and commiserated every loss. He’d been with me when I found out I was drafted to the AHL and then the NHL. Passing him the Stanley Cup after our win a few years ago had been one of the biggest highlights of my life. It was his win too.

We’d done it together.

I hoped to do it again, but let’s be real, time wasn’t on my side now. I’d been in the league for over a decade and it showed. I nursed my knees every day, all year round, and did my best to avoid major collisions after my last concussion had sidelined me for two months last year. I couldn’t afford to be off the ice. There were too many young talented players gunning for my job, wanting their shot at glory, and I wasn’t ready to give up. Life after hockey wasn’t something I wanted to contemplate.

Who would I be? What would I do? It had been hard enough to acknowledge Dad didn’t need me to play for him anymore. His life was full. He had Smitty, Nathan, Charlotte, and Ella, and I was happy for him. And for me. I’d always wanted to be part of a big family, and I had that now.

But in a funny way, I was still alone, wishing for a reason or purpose greater than myself.

Yeah, yeah…this was where the “Maybe you should try to meet someone, start a family of your own” advice usually poured in. I got it. A lot of the guys who’d come up in the league with me were married with kids. Some were already on their second or third marriages.

Me? I didn’t date much…never had. Hockey had always come first. It wasn’t that I preferred the occasional quick liaison with a stranger, but it was easier. No muss, no fuss.

Maybe it was time to try an app. I needed to think about something or someone else, stat. Someone who wasn’t Mason fucking Trinsky.

The fact that I’d replayed everything we’d done and said over and over in my head for days on end was downright disturbing. It was novel and new, and it had felt amazing to flex my bi muscle for the first time in years.

But Trinsky? Ugh .

“Okay, kiddos. Looks like we’re good on floaties and noodles!” Smitty marched into the yard with an inflatable rainbow unicorn around his waist and an armful of those Nerf-like swim noodles.

Nathan skipped in front of his dad, wearing Ella’s floaties like boxing gloves on his fists. “Woohoo! I helped blow them up for you, Ells.”

“I want the unicorn,” Charlotte called out.

“No, I want the unicorn.” Ella frowned, wiggling in her swing. “Will you slow me down, Jakey?”

I did as she asked and helped her jump off the swing, then stepped aside to avoid getting caught in the midst of a mini war on pool gear just as my cell buzzed in my pocket. I was going to ignore it, but as predicted, Ella burst into tears when Charlotte took the unicorn while Dad assured her there was another one for her.

Smitty and Dad could handle this crew, I mused, slipping my phone out.

“Hey, McD. What’s up?”

My agent whistled in response. “Who knew that a damn camping expedition would turn into a publicity boom? Me, that’s who.”

I slumped onto the nearest patio chair and groaned, head in hands. “Oh, brother.”

About that. McD was right. The post-season hockey lovers were hungry for news, and they couldn’t resist an orchestrated press ploy featuring two rivals forced to camp together. So cringeworthy.

According to…everyone, the video footage Ray had taken before his fall was a gold mine of snippy commentary and frequently bleeped-out zingers. He’d even managed to film us from the pit, adding to the lore of Team Trinsky-Milligan. The public had loved that we’d set aside our differences to help someone in need almost as much as they liked the consistent trash-talk.

The PR firm assigned to this “story” had interviewed the campers who’d vouched that we were a volatile pair, and that everyone had been shocked we’d survived not one but two nights in the same tent unscathed.

Of course, if they knew what had really gone on in that tent, they’d have been really shocked.

But no, I wasn’t going to think about that. Or any of it.

I was in it for good publicity for Elmwood and…myself, I supposed. McD insisted that I needed it so…cool, it was done. Time to move on.

“I need you in LA this week.”

“Los Angeles? That’s nice, but I can’t. Juniors’ Camp starts Monday and?—”

“No can do. You’ll need the week off. Get this…” He paused for theatrical effect. “They want you on the Hey, LA show.”

I frowned. “Me? Why?”

“Trinsky’s from Southern California, and LA loves their native athletes.” Oh, for fuck’s sake. “They want to interview both of you and before you say no, you can’t. He’s involved with a charity for kids based in Los Angeles, and he’s supposed to do a plug for them. I’m not sure if it’s an image-boosting project for him, but you’ll look like a schmuck if you don’t show up.”

“But he’s the one from LA. They don’t need me.”

“Like it or not, you two idiots have chemistry. Don’t you see? That’s why this so-called feud gets press. You’re both good-looking jocks who play a notoriously rough sport, but you each have a soft spot for kids and giving back to the community. Sappy or not, we have to take advantage of public interest. This is good for you and your career,” McD insisted for the thousandth time in an unapologetically firm tone.

“And what am I supposed to say on TV?”

“That camping together was an enlightening experience or that it was all about the kids. I’ll work on some verbiage and make it easy. But listen, that’s only one of the reasons I need you in LA.” McD cleared his throat, his excitement bubbling through a cellular connection. “The Kings are interested.”

“In what?”

“In my Aunt Martha’s quilt collection,” he snarked. “ You , Milligan. They’re interested in you. They’re losing a star forward next season. Phillips is retiring, and they want a big name. You fit the bill. I know you don’t want to leave Boston, but here’s where I remind you that this is all part of the negotiation process. So pack your bag. I’ll have my secretary book you on a private jet tomorrow.”

“That’s…too soon. I can’t do that.” I scrambled to my feet. “Vinnie needs?—”

“Vinnie will do a flipping cartwheel. Just let him know you’ll be pimping Elmwood with your new best friend, Trinsky. I have business in Atlanta, so I won’t make it to the taping, but I’ll be there for our meeting with the Kings. See you in La-La Land, Milligan.”

I slipped my cell into my pocket, my heart hammering as I watched Dad and Smitty laughing uproariously at the kids chasing the dogs who’d stolen their swim noodles.

This was chaos. The fun kind of life-affirming sweetness that left you with a warm heart and good feels.

A week in LA with at least one day that included my “new best friend” was chaotic chaos or evil chaos—something unsteady, uncertain, and…dangerous.

Trinsky and I hadn’t left on bad terms, but I’d been counting on at least four weeks of calm in Elmwood before he arrived for his yearly coaching stint. I’d even thought about taking those last two weeks off to go on a real vacation—maybe a trip to Europe or the Bahamas or…anywhere that he wasn’t.

But apparently, evil chaos had won this round.