Page 12 of Second Chance with the Single Dad Goalie (Second Chance Hockey Players #2)

Chapter eight

Blake

W hoosh.

That’s the only sound I hear before my instincts kick in.

The puck zips across the ice like a bullet. I track it, knees bent, weight balanced. Jason winds up for a shot, his eyes locked on the top right corner of the net. I know his tells - I’ve seen that same move a hundred times.

I push off hard. My body reacts before my mind even processes it. The puck slams into my glove with a solid thwack.

“Not today, buddy,” I say, tossing it back.

Jason groans. “Man, I swear that was going in.”

“Swear all you want,” I smirk, “but the scoreboard still says otherwise.”

Liam skates by, tapping his stick against my pads. “That’s why he’s our goalie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason mutters, skating off.

Whistle.

The sharp blast cuts through the rink, signaling the end of practice.

“Good practice, boys.” Coach says. “Hit the showers.”

I exhale, pushing off the goalpost and skating forward as my teammates start peeling away, their skates scraping against the ice. My legs burn, my shoulders ache, and my gear feels twice as heavy as it did two hours ago. Today was brutal.

We shuffle off the ice, heading into the locker room, where the stench of sweat and effort hits instantly. The room hums with the sounds of helmets clunking into benches, zippers unzipping, and exhausted sighs.

Tomas groans. “I think I forgot what walking feels like. My feet are officially skate shaped.”

We make it to the locker room, and the second we step inside, gear starts flying - helmets hitting lockers, jerseys peeled off, pads dumped in bags. The place smells like sweat, ice, and that weird mix of menthol and exhaustion.

"Jesus," Jason groans, pulling off his helmet. His hair is a sweaty mess. "Coach really tried to kill us today."

"Yeah, well, if we die, at least we’ll go down as legends," Tomas quips, flipping his stick over his shoulder.

I chuckle, tugging off my gloves. "Legends who couldn't survive a couple of drills?"

"A couple?" James snorts. "We did the skating drills, puck-handling, shooting, scoring, defensive plays…"

"Basically, everything short of running a marathon," Lucas adds.

Liam groans, stretching his arms. "Man, my legs are gonna feel this tomorrow."

I tap my stick against the ice. "Good. Means you actually did something."

He flips me off, but there’s no real heat behind it.

I chuckle as I pull my hoodie over my head. “Speaking of feeling like actual humans again, what do you all say to hitting up The Rustic Roost, later?"

Jason raises an eyebrow. "Why?"

I shrug. " Figured we could get some drinks, blow off some steam after that intense workout."

Tomas grins. "I’m in - on one condition."

I already know where this is going, but I raise my eyebrow.

“I’m in, as long as you’re paying.”

James smacks the back of his head.

Jason shakes his head. "You really have no shame, huh?"

"Aw, come on," he whines. "It’s tradition!"

James smacks Tomas’ head again. "It’s your tradition, you freeloader."

Jason shakes his head. "Man’s addicted to free things."

"I’m not paying for everyone, especially you," I say.

Tomas holds up his hands. "What? It’s fun spending other people’s money. Besides, he’s the one inviting us out - he should pay."

I sigh. "Fine, I’ll cover your first drink. Happy now?"

Tomas grins. "Ecstatic."

"Six sounds good?" I ask.

They all nod, and as I toss my jersey into my bag, I add, "Keith’s coming too."

James gasps dramatically. "YES! I get to see my man crush!"

Everyone groans, shaking their heads as they gather their things, used to this by now. Ever since Keith started hanging out with the group, James has made it his life’s mission to annoy Keith, and Keith gives it right back. It’s basically a sport at this point.

"Seriously, you all act like this isn’t normal," James says, catching up to us. "What? A guy can’t appreciate another guy’s bone structure?"

Liam mutters, "I’m questioning your bone structure right now."

After saying our goodbyes, I hop in my truck and head home.

****

The second I step through the front door, I hear the sound of tiny feet pattering and squeals.

“Daddy’s home!”

My tiny missiles come charging at me, shrieking with excitement, and I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face. I drop my bag without a second thought, crouching down to scoop them both up into my arms, their giggles filling the space around us.

"You two have missed me, huh?" I ask, pressing kisses onto their cheeks.

Mia nods enthusiastically. "A lot!"

Nico echoes, "A loooooot!"

"Well, wanna know something?" I lower my voice like I’m about to tell them the biggest secret in the world. "I missed you both too. A loooooot!"

They burst into giggles, clinging to my neck.

"Were you good for Nana?" I ask, carrying them inside.

Mia nods. "I made pancakes with Nana!"

“I did too,” Nico says, bobbing his head excitedly.

“No, you didn’t. You spilled the flour and made a mess.”

Nico pouts. "I didn’t."

“You did.”

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

And just like that, chaos.

They bicker all the way to the living room, where my mom sits, watching with an amused expression. I set them down, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

"How was practice?" She asks.

"Brutal," I admit, stretching out my sore arms.

She chuckles. "Good. Keeps you in shape."

The kids are still bickering. I sigh, ruffling Nico’s hair. “All right, all right, no courtroom battle needed.”

We spend the next few minutes settling things - aka bribing them with fruit snacks - before I head upstairs for a quick shower. When I come back down, I’m greeted by another chaotic sight.

My mom.

Covered in…, crayon. Bright, colorful scribbles decorate her forehead, cheeks, eyes, and lips.

Red smudges cover her cheeks, and what looks like a very uneven mustache, aka, lipstick, is drawn across her upper lip.

I stare. “Uh…?”

She lifts a hand. “Before you say anything, I’m being a good grandma.”

I glance at my daughter, who beams proudly. “Doesn’t Nana look pretty?”

Oh, my God.

I press my lips together. “Absolutely stunning.”

My mom glares at me. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

Mia claps excitedly before turning her big, hopeful eyes on me. "Daddy, can I make you pretty?"

I recoil slightly. "Oh, uh…, no, thanks. I’m handsome enough already."

Mia pouts. "But Rachel’s dad lets her make him pretty!"

I scoff. "Well, Rachel’s dad needs the extra help.”

Mia gasps dramatically. “DADDY! That’s so rude!”

“What? It’s true. I, on the other hand, am already at peak handsomeness."

Mia nods dramatically. "I know! I wanna make you look way, way, wayyyy more handsome!"

I blink. “Mia, sweetheart, listen. I don’t think…”

She pouts.

Big, puppy-dog eyes.

Lord help me.

“I really wanna make you look more handsome,” she says sweetly, already holding up a red crayon. Waiting.

Trapped.

This is it.

I glance at Nico, hoping for backup. He’s zero help, completely focused on his Lego set.

“I just wanna make you way, way, way more handsome,” Mia coaxes.

I exhale in defeat. “Fine.”

“YAY!”

Before I know it, I’m sitting on the floor, letting my four-year-old ‘beautify’ me while I help Nico put together a Lego spaceship.

“Daddy, stay still,” Mia scolds, holding my face like a professional artist. “Beauty takes time.”

I sigh. “Yeah, well, so does dignity.”

My mom chuckles from the couch. “You’re a good dad, Blake.”

I smirk. “Don’t say that yet. Let’s see what I look like first.”

Halfway through, Mia pauses, tilting her head. "You know, Daddy, red really suits you."

I sigh. "I regret everything."

Mia giggles as she goes in with the blue crayon.

God help me.

By the time I escape the house, and make it to The Rustic Roost, it’s already 6:25. I push through the doors and the familiar scent of beer, grilled food, and smoke hits me instantly.

The place is packed as usual - warm lighting, the hum of conversation, and the occasional burst of laughter filling the air.

As I weave through the crowd, I spot my friends at our usual table near the back. Keith is the first to see me, raising a brow as I approach.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” he drawls.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry, guys.” I clap Keith’s shoulder in greeting before sliding into the empty seat.

Jason smirks. “Late and apologizing? How will you make it up to us? Are you buying us all dinner?”

“Don’t push your luck,” I mutter, flagging down a waitress to order a drink.

Tomas leans forward, resting his arms on the table. “What held you up?”

I sink into the chair with a dramatic sigh, running a hand through my hair.

"Oh, you know, just the usual. Had my face made up like an art project, then I was forced into a tutu and made to do the Moana dance - full performance, mind you. And since Nico didn’t want to be left out, he decided to be Spider-Man and spent the rest of the evening climbing the furniture and shooting ‘webs’ at me. "

Silence.

Then, they burst out laughing.

James wipes a fake tear. "Please tell me there's a video."

I glare. “Over my dead body.”

Jason slaps the table. “Bro, I need to see this.”

“Not happening.”

Liam shakes his head, still grinning. “Man, fatherhood looks good on you.”

I smile. “Yeah, real fun. Don’t worry, it’s gonna be your turn soon, buddy.”

Liam takes a sip of his beer before sighing. "I know. The baby will be here any day now."

“Wow, really?" Keith asks.

Liam nods. "Yeah. And I am so nervous."

“Oh, buddy,” Tomas leans back. “Your peaceful nights? Gone.”

Lucas raises his glass. “To zero sleep and constantly smelling like baby powder.”

Liam groans. “Not helping, assholes.”

Tomas grins. "Dude, you’ve been preparing for this for months."

James claps his shoulder. "And you’ve got a whole army of uncles ready to step in and corrupt - I mean, help."

“Exactly,” Matt adds, smirking. “And since I’m officially the godfather, I’ll make sure your kid has the best guidance possible.”

Lucas snorts. “Nope. That’s me.”

Matt slowly turns to him, eyes narrowing. "Like hell you are."

Lucas shrugs. "Even if it hasn’t been decided yet, we all know who it is."

"Yeah," Matt says. "Me."

Lucas leans back. "Hazel gets to decide. And we know who she likes more."

Matt glares. "Liam also has a say. And we know who he’ll pick."

Without missing a beat, Liam deadpans, “Not you.” He points at Lucas. “Or you either.”

The whole table bursts into laughter.

Matt looks personally betrayed, while Lucas throws his hands up. "Wow. Just wow."

Keith chuckles, shaking his head. "I’m so grateful that I fought no one to become the twins’ godfather."

James smirks. "Yeah, because Blake decided to have mercy on you. Trust me, even your shadow wouldn’t wanna deal with you.”

Keith’s head snaps toward him. "Excuse me? You little…"

"Not today, guys," I cut in before this goes any further.

Keith glares at James who raises his glass in mock cheer.

The banter dies down, and I take a long sip of my beer. “Anyway, speaking of struggles…, I’m dealing with a nanny situation.”

Jason raises a brow. “What happened to the last one?”

“She quit,” I say, rubbing my temples. “And now I’m trying to find someone new. Had two potential nannies meet the kids yesterday, and let’s just say… It didn't go well. The kids weren’t having it, no matter what they tried. Stuck to me or my mum throughout. Technically, they don’t like them.”

“That’s rough.”

“I know.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Keith says, then says, half-joking, "Maybe you should ask Whitney."

I blink, caught off guard. "What did you say?"

He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. "Maybe you could ask Whitney. I mean, I don’t think she is up to much now that she’s at home. And she is good with the kids judging from last time."

I stare at him. "Are you serious?"

Keith grins. "Not really. But hey, it’s an option. If you’re gonna pay her really, really well. I mean, double or triple the amount you plan on paying the other nannies you interviewed."

"Yeah, no," I say quickly. "Forget it."

The guys chuckle, and the conversation shifts.

But the idea lingers longer than I’d like.

We drift back into our usual banter, the hours slipping by like they always do when we’re together. By the time we’re ready to leave, it’s close to 8.00 p.m. Liam left 30 minutes earlier to be with Hazel.

And as I head home, my mind keeps circling back to what Keith said.

Whitney as a nanny?

No. Definitely not.

But as days went on, my options dwindled. Every nanny I interviewed just didn’t click with the kids. No matter how qualified the candidates were, none of them made it past the first meeting.

Each time, Keith’s suggestion came back to him. Whitney.

Despite every reservation screaming in my head, I realize Whitney might actually be the best solution - for my kids. They like her. They miss her.

And if I’m being honest? So, do I.

Asking her to come back into my life, even just as a nanny, feels like opening a door I’m not sure I will want to close again.

But desperate times, right?

So here I am, standing outside her house, debating if this is the worst idea I’m pursuing.

Before I can overthink it any further, I knock.

The door swung open.

Whitney stood there, blinking at me in surprise. She is in leggings and an oversized sweater, her hair in a loose ponytail. Comfortable.

“Blake?” Her brows furrowed. “What are you doing here?”

I clench my jaw.

Then, reluctantly - so reluctantly - I say, “I have a proposition for you.”

Her lips quirked. "Oh? Should I be concerned?"

"Probably," I mutter. Then, rubbing a hand over my face, I go straight for it.

"I need a nanny. And…, I want to hire you. Temporarily."

Silence.

Then Whitney laughs. Laughs. A full, head-thrown-back, this-is-the-craziest-thing-I’ve-ever-heard laugh.

"That wasn’t a joke."

"Yeah," she says, still grinning. “It has to be.”

But her smile falters when she sees the look in my eyes - serious, unwavering.

"Wait…, you’re serious?" she whispers, her voice barely audible as she steps back, hand tightening on the doorknob like she’s not sure whether to let me in - or shut me out.