Page 48

Forty-Eight

RHODES

“Volkova!” A line of guilt slams into me like I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t be.

I can thank fucking my hot little nanny for that.

Might as well get it out of our systems…

That came from me. I was the one to say that line of total bullshit. I lured her onto my bed and stripped her bare in an attempt to scratch an itch that I knew would only get worse. Now, I’m on edge.

“Yeah, Coach?” I stand, half-dressed for the game. I’ve been here since we watched films this morning, catching a ride with Malaki since I gave Sunny permission to drive my truck.

“Get in here for a sec.”

I catch the eye of Malaki while walking toward Coach’s office. He shrugs, and I turn away because, either way, whatever Coach has to say, I’ll keep to myself, despite my closer friendship with some of my teammates.

“Close the door.”

Now I’m intrigued.

I make sure the door latches and sit in the chair at the foot of his desk.

It takes me a second to realize that this is the first time I haven’t immediately tensed with dread at him pulling me aside. My first question is always, Is everything okay with Ellie? But lately, I haven’t had the notion to even think that.

I know she’s okay if she’s with Sunny.

“As team captain and someone who has been on this team long enough to see players come and go, I want your opinion.”

I remain expressionless and stay silent.

“I’m thinking of bringing in some help.”

I lean forward. “Some help? Like some more players for the reserve?”

Coach shakes his head. He leans back and starts to chew on the end of an ink pen. “A skills coach.” He pauses and lets me digest this. “We’re good this year. Our points are stacking, and we’re slotted for the wild card for the first time in a long time.”

This makes sense.

I knew the team funds were being rearranged, and this must be why.

I nod in his direction. He’s right. We’re tighter this year than we’ve ever been. The media has been saying that it’s because we traded Juke and gained an even better goalie, but I’ve seen tidbits of Kane’s lethal ability to fake out the other team with his shots on net. It’s probably a bit of both.

The media has also mentioned that I’m more focused than ever.

They’re not wrong. Thankfully, they’re not aware of the reasoning as to why I’m more focused, but I am. The entire team is focused, though they’re still going on about their bullshit of me fucking Sunny to stir things up.

Little do they know…I have fucked her.

“Okay.” I nod. “What kind of skills coach are we talking about? Offense? I’m assuming that’s why you’re calling me in here.”

That will mean more practice. At the beginning of the season, I would have argued that I couldn’t add extra time in the rink to my already hectic life with Ellie, but now that I have someone I can rely on and trust, I’ll do what it takes to bring the team to the next level.

Since learning that I was a father—a single one, at that—I’ve felt torn. It was either I gave my all to her, or I gave it to hockey. Over the years, the two have had to share. But now with Sunny in our lives, it doesn’t feel like that.

Coach sighs, and it pulls my attention back. “Our defense is strong, especially with Olson as our goaltender. I’d like to gain some more points to put us into the playoffs. We need to hone our skills.”

I nod. “I’m on par with this.”

“Good.” Coach places his elbows on his desk and steeples his fingers. “Now, I have a favor.”

It’s never good to ask someone for a favor. Doesn’t he realize that means he’ll owe me?

“Shoot.”

“I want you to poke around and ask your former teammates, friends, whatever”—he wafts his hand in the air—“what they think of Washington’s former skills coach.”

Washington .

And just like that, I’m thinking of Sunny again.

I run through Washington’s players—those that I know. “I can ask Blacky.”

We played together in college. He’s a good guy and would give me the truth.

Coach nods. “Let me know as soon as possible.”

“You said former coach?”

Why former?

“He was relieved of his job duties, but I know that doesn’t mean much when it comes to franchises.”

True.

“I’ll ask and get back to you.” I stand and leave the locker room.

I keep to myself while I get ready for the game. For some reason, there’s a fire in my blood tonight. Sunny’s face slips into my head, and the fire burns brighter. Is it because she’ll be watching me tonight? Is that why I’m so eager to do well?

No .

It has nothing to do with her and all to do with just wanting to play well for the team.

I tighten my skates.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

Before heading onto the ice for a warm-up, I check my phone one last time.

My pulse thrums when I read her name on the screen.

Sunshine: If you see a scratch on your truck, no you didn’t.

My jaw clicks. What?

I can’t read her next message quickly enough.

Sunshine: KIDDING. Just texting to let you know we’re here. Good luck!

I really hate that she makes my lips twitch.

Me: You think you’re funny?

She texts me back right away.

Sunshine: Ellie thinks I am.

Me: Well, I don’t.

I retie my skate to give myself something to do while I wait.

I wouldn’t want anyone to know I’m taking my time climbing onto the ice because I’m waiting for my daughter's nanny to text me back, right?

Sunshine: I think you do.

She’s right. I do. I’ve laughed more with her than I have in a long time.

Me: You know what happens when you lie, right?

If I had to guess, she’s blushing right about now.

Sunshine: It was a joke!

The team is starting to head out for warm-ups.

Me: It’s almost like you want me to punish you.

Sunshine: I do not!

I stand on my skates. Excitement rushes to my fingers at the thought of seeing her in the stands.

Me: Another lie? Whatever am I going to do with you?

Without waiting for her to text, I fire off another.

Me: I’ll let you think about that while watching me score a goal or two.

My phone vibrates as soon as I set it in my locker. I grab it with eager hands.

Sunshine: If you score, maybe I’ll let you punish me.

Wrong thing to say, baby.

I told her she was supposed to be the rational one, but I’m so fucking glad she isn’t listening to my nonsense.

Me: Challenge accepted.

I shut my locker and head for the rink with a lot more confidence than I typically yield.

She wants me to score? Consider it done.

Unpopular opinion: I love when we go into overtime.

The crowd is hyped, my team is hungry for the win, and our opponents are testy. It makes for an active and engaging game.

There have been fights, shitty calls, and a whole lot of chirping.

The clock is ticking down, and the rookies are being eaten with nerves.

It’s a good thing I’m not a rookie, though.

Kane moves too early on the faceoff—or so the ref says. I swoop in and take his spot, having a damn good percentage of winning them, despite not doing them as often as our centers. I catch the eye of my current enemy, who’s looking a little too smug in his teal jersey. I wink, and it throws him off. The puck drops, and I’m the first to connect. It slips out to the left, heading right for Malaki.

We skate like we’re on a mission. Malaki, one of the fastest players in the league, zips down the ice, and I follow after him. I block the noise out and focus. Skating toward the corner of the net, I stand with a vengeance and wait patiently for the perfect opportunity.

Malaki fires it off to Kane, and for a second, I think he’s going to overturn it, but Hayes is there to swoop it up. It goes back to Malaki again. Adrenaline rushes to my hands. I grip my stick tightly, wind back, and as soon as the puck comes into play, I fire it off to the upper left side of the net.

I don’t even have to see it to know it went in. I have the confidence of a player who has been in the league for years, and I know when my shots hit and when they don’t.

The guys circle around me and slap me on the back. I grin, unable to keep the smile at bay.

“A fucking hat trick to win overtime?” Malaki grins like a fool. “Now you’re just getting cocky.”

He throws his stick in the air, and it blends with the falling hats from the crowd. The lights of the stadium flicker back and forth, and my name blares through the speakers from Gary and Rickie, our commentators. I skate forward and head over to Emory.

“I don’t know what has gotten into you, but keep it up,” he says.

I know very well what has gotten into me. We bring our helmets together like we do after every game, and then I start toward the bench. I stop in the midst of dodging the ice girls and their cleanup of all the hats.

Two blue ribbons catch my eye in a sea of icy dust and hash marks. Slipping my glove off, I swipe them off the ice and hold them in my grip. I glance at the suite, and there she is with my daughter on her back, smiling wildly. Her hair frames her face, messy from undoing the braid to throw her ribbon to the ice.

I try to hide my grin, because I know damn well the camera is on me. It doesn’t stop me from holding up three of my fingers though.

Three.

Three goals, Sunshine.

I want to make sure she knows.

She rolls her lips, and I know she’s hiding a smile behind them.

I head to the bench where my teammates are waiting for me.

If anyone caught the moment, no one says anything, which is good, because I’m not sure I’ll be able to deny lusting after my nanny at the moment.