Page 15

15

Christian

T he birthday party the next day turned out even better than I had hoped.

Thanks to Preston’s connections with the Warhawks, he was able to get the bird mascot to attend, along with five current players. Only one is a starter, but none of the kids or their parents seem to care. They’re all from a championship winning team.

Seeing Finley having fun laughing with his friends, soaking up being the center of attention and showing off his skills to the other kids, I’m filled with more pride than scoring any goals or winning any games.

Maya and I may not have ever planned to get pregnant, but there’s no doubt we created an amazing little guy together. I’m so glad that I finally get to be a part of his life, even if all the time I missed out with him still stings when I look at the photos and videos. Seeing clips of the special moments in Finley’s life and him celebrating holidays isn’t the same as being there with him.

God, I wanted to tell Finley this morning I was his dad when I gave him his present. He went nuts over the tabletop game with rods like foosball, but with plastic hockey players instead.

My son deserves to know the truth about who I am, and I’m not sure how much longer I can wait, despite Maya’s lingering concerns.

“Christian freaking Riley?” Spencer Williams, the Warhawks’ backup goalie drawls when he skates up to the goal I’m tending without any pads on. I’ve only been blocking about a quarter of the kids’ shots, letting everyone get a puck in at least once since that shit is good for their confidence at this age. “What the hell are you doing up here at a kid’s party in the middle of the summer? Did you lose a bet to Preston or something?”

“No, I didn’t lose a bet,” I tell him with a grin. I should tell them that I’m just here as a favor, but for some reason, I find myself blurting out, “Actually, I’m the birthday boy’s father.”

Spencer’s jaw falls open comically. “No shit? Hell, now it makes sense why Preston gave you all those beatdowns. I said hello to his sister, and he almost decked me one time.”

His outburst makes me wince, worried someone will overhear. I sort of regret my impulsive decision now. Maya will kill me if the truth gets out before she’s ready. “I had no idea until recently,” I explain to him. “And, um, Finley doesn’t know yet. Neither does the media. So, if you could keep it quiet…”

“I won’t say a word,” he promises. “Trust me, I don’t want to give Preston any reason to kick my ass.”

“Good,” I tell him, letting out a relieved sigh that his fear of Preston, his former teammate, will hopefully keep his mouth shut.

“You and Preston’s sister aren’t together now, are you?”

“No, we’re not together,” I admit honestly with a heavy sigh. Maya sadly didn’t change her mind about no visiting while Preston and Elle are there. Which means she has no intention of telling Preston, which tells me that fooling around with me is just a little fun for her during the summer.

I let another puck sail past me and into the goal, causing the kids to scream in celebration of their friend’s score. To Spencer, I say, “Thanks for coming out today. This is a party none of the kids will ever forget, especially Finley.”

“Honestly, Preston wouldn’t really take no for an answer, but I don’t mind. The off-season gets boring as shit.”

“True enough,” I agree, since the off-season is usually the loneliest time of the year for me. There are no fans screaming my name, no microphones or cameras being shoved in my face, and no daily practices to keep up with the guys.

“I’ll take over goalie duty for you now if you want?” Spencer offers.

“Thanks, man. I know it goes against your goalie instincts, but could you try to let a few pucks slip past you today?”

“Will do, even if I’ll have nightmares about those damn goals tonight,” he replies with a shudder that makes me chuckle.

Maya

I’ve just finished getting all the kids photos taken with the mascot near the end of the party when a tall, lean man skates over to me in massive pads, a goalie. He towers over me even though I put on skates for the party too.

“Hey, you’re Maya, right? Preston’s sister?” he asks. Removing his helmet, his short, brown hair is a little sweaty, and his intelligent eyes seem to lock onto mine with a surprising intensity. I blink, momentarily caught off guard by the random man’s sudden attention.

“Yes. Hey. It’s Spencer, right?” I manage to say, trying not to sound like a complete idiot.

A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me.”

“Of course I remember you. My brother hasn’t been gone from the Warhawks but a few weeks,” I say, trying to recover from the surprise of his attention.

He laughs softly, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, I know, but I think you and I only met once, briefly, at a family cookout, before he ran me off.”

“That sounds like my brother.” Nodding my head over to where he’s helping Elle clean up the leftover cake, I tell him, “He’s not quite as overprotective as he used to be.”

“I don’t blame him. He’s probably spent his whole life beating back guys from you with his hockey stick.”

With a laugh, I tell him, “Not really. But he’s been a good big brother.”

There’s a brief silence as we stand there, awkwardly smiling at each other. It’s strange talking to a guy like this, to have a hot, professional athlete looking at me with interest, flirting with me. Well, someone other than Christian Riley. I do remember meeting Spencer before, but only that he was nice before Preston gave him a look that had him scurrying away.

Finley, ever the curious one, comes over and interrupts the silence by tugging on the side of my Warhawks jersey with Preston’s number and name on it, matching Finley’s smaller one. “Mommy, what’s this goalie’s name?”

“This is Spencer Williams. He plays for the Warhawks and knows Uncle Preston,” I say, smiling down at Finley before turning back to Spencer.

“Backup goalie for the time being,” he amends.

“Spencer, this is my son, Finley,” I say, knowing it’ll likely send him skating away faster than an evil look from my brother.

But Spencer doesn’t even flinch. He just smiles and holds out his hand to Finley, “Nice to meet you, birthday boy.”

“Thanks for coming to my party. Can I have one of your jerseys?” he asks, making me wince and Spencer cough out a laugh.

“Finley! You can’t just ask every hockey player you meet for a jersey!”

“Why not?” my son looks up and asks me.

“Because it puts the players on the spot,” I tell him. Then to Spencer, “I’m so sorry. He’s a huge hockey fan like his uncle, obviously. And he gets carried away.”

“It’s no problem. I would love to get you one of my jerseys. Want me to sign it too?”

“Hell yes!” my son exclaims.

“Finley!”

“Oops. I meant, heck.”

“Right,” I mutter with a sigh.

“How about I get your mom’s number and set up a time to get you that jersey? Size youth medium okay to give him some growing room?” Spencer asks me.

“That would be great. Thank you.”

“Yes!” Finley cheers before he skates off, no doubt to go tell his friends the good news.

The next thing I know, the hockey player is asking for my phone, putting his number in it, and handing it back to me. His own device buzzes an instant later, like he sent himself a message from it.

“I’ll give you a call soon. Maybe we can have dinner too?”

“Dinner?” I repeat in surprise.

“Yeah, like a date? I asked Christian and he said you two aren’t together now. Are you seeing anyone?”

“Ah, no, I guess I’m not seeing anyone,” I reply, disappointed that Christian told Spencer we’re not a couple, even if we’re not. I seek him out on the ice, finding him talking to some of the Warhawk players.

“So, how about dinner, just you and me, or with Finley, too. I don’t mind either way.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t mind if I bring my son along on a date.

“That didn’t sound like a promising oh .”

“Let me think about it?” I ask rather than turn him down flat after his generous offer.

Spencer flashes me a smile and nods. Then, he clears his throat and starts to skate away backward. “Think about it as long as you need, Maya. It was nice seeing you again and getting to actually speak more than two words to you this time.”

“Right,” I say with an answering smile. “And thank you for coming to the party on short notice.”

“Of course,” he says, grin widening. “I love kids. They’re my favorite fans, helping me remember why I do this even though I spend most of my time on the bench, you know?”

“Yes, I do,” I agree before he skates off.

The flirtation was nice, but I doubt if I’ll ever hear from the goalie again.