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Fifty-Two

RHODES

“Bro, what is that?” Kane uses his stick to point at my skate during the other team’s time out. I glance at the laces and hide a grin. A pretty blue ribbon is intertwined within the laces, something I did right before the game after getting off the phone with Sunny.

“A good luck charm from Ellie,” I lie, flinging water down the hatch.

It most definitely isn’t a good luck charm from my daughter. I slipped the ribbon in my bag after losing yet another battle with myself at the innocent hands of Sunny, and when I saw it there before the game, I found myself wanting to hold onto it for good luck.

How pathetic.

Am I a teenager or in my thirties?

But that’s just it, isn’t it? Sunny makes me feel like a teenager again. I’m antsy when we’re apart, and now, she’s starting to run laps in my head. She’s all I can think about, and for the first time in my life, I’m eager to get back home to see my daughter’s nanny instead of dreading it.

Sunny in my bed will be the perfect reward for winning on the road—and we will win. We’re up 3-1, and as long as we hold the line for the next few minutes, we should be destined for the W.

Malaki zips past, and we get into position. Kane skates up toward the refs and says something mouthy to the other center, and just like that, we’re off.

I’m skating with a purpose tonight, and I know it’s because I have someone important watching me from home.

Except, she didn’t text me back during the last intermission.

Fuck, focus.

I clear my head as best as I can and follow the puck.

It hits my stick with force, and I skate up the line, passing it back and forth between my teammates. There’s an opening up ahead, and Kane hikes it toward the goal but misses by a hair.

I slip behind the net and play with the puck, tossing it back and forth before flinging it around the wall with it ending back in Malaki’s possession. A defender elbows him and steals possession, giving us a turnover.

Shit.

They’re going to pull their goalie to the bench, and it’ll be six of them against the five of us.

We’ve been in this position before, though, and we’ve practiced the drill too many times to count, constantly tweaking and reinforcing pressure.

I skate quickly toward the commotion but hear my name being called from the bench.

Coach is pulling me in?

We don’t need fresh legs yet.

In the end, I listen to him. I trade off. I slump on the bench to grab my water.

“Volkova.”

“What?” I snap, glancing down the bench at Coach.

Time is ticking, and the pressure on our guys is heavy.

I need to be out there.

He flicks his head toward someone, and I lean back to see who.

My stomach falls.

And just like that, I forget about the game.

I stand and start to rush past my teammates toward Kevin, the team manager. I’ve seen this look before. Something is wrong, and it’s a blunt hit to my chest. I’ve grown so comfortable with Sunny taking care of Ellie in my absence that a problem at home didn’t even occur to me.

Malaki comes to the bench to rest, and his brow furrows when I brush past him.

“Where’re you going?” he asks through heaving breaths.

I leave my stick with him, but I don't answer.

I’m hopeful the cameras are on the ice and not watching me disappear down the hall. The media will start to speculate, and there will be all sorts of rumors.

As soon as Kevin and I are away from the crowd, I turn and wait for an explanation.

“We just got word that there’s been a car accident.”

My legs nearly give out.

“Where is my daughter and her nanny?” I force out.

I follow my manager into the locker room and start to strip as fast as I can.

I’m several hours away by plane, but they better get me on the next fucking flight.

“I was told that Ellie is perfectly fine.” Thank God. The dread is still present, though. My hands shake, and the adrenaline is swift.

“And Sunny?”

My manager pauses for a second. The question must’ve surprised him, but why wouldn’t it? I’ve never shown anything but disdain for my nannies in the past. Sunny is different, though.

“Uh…” He pulls out his phone and scrolls. “She’s…banged up, but…” He quickly reads a message. “They’re at the hospital now and?—”

“They’re at the hospital?” My tone is level, but I am anything but.

Fuck, Sunny is probably freaking out.

“Get me on the next flight.”

I pull on my hoodie and a pair of shorts, not even bothering to lace my shoes.

“Let’s go.”

There isn’t room for arguing.

My girls need me, and they need me now.