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Chapter Twenty-Six

Hockey Dads. Just like us!

Spotted in the wild! Three Chicago Rebels players visited Lincoln Park Zoo with their children yesterday.

The second week of November saw the first frost of the year, which meant the Rebels kids were bundled up in the latest fashions.

At almost two, Jane Jacobs, daughter of center Cody Jacobs, rocked a cuter-than-cute Burberry trench while her big-girl friend, Tilly Kershaw, radiated tomboy energy in jewel-embroidered Stella McCartney jeans and a varsity-style bomber jacket from Sadie Yates’s kids’ range.

But the true star of the show was Lars’s Nyquist’s daughter Mabel, who shone in her pink shearling bodysuit from Zara, which still allowed enough range of motion for the curious little girl to touch the goats at the petting zoo.

The usually stern Lars was seen laughing with his teammates, Theo Kershaw and Cody Jacobs, which we hope can only signals better relationships on the ice! Daddyhood suits you, Lars. Go Rebels!

- Hot Goss

Adeline

The scents of cooking wafted through the air, picking up strength as I entered the kitchen. Lars stood over the stove, stirring something.

“You cooked?”

“Yep. Come taste this.”

I approached as he held up a wooden spoon coated with a red sauce. My tongue flicked out and tasted. A little spicy, absolutely perfect.

“I thought you wanted me to babysit.” He’d texted to say he had a dinner date with his agent that he couldn’t get out of.

“I lied.” The corners of his eyes crinkled with a smile. “I wanted to make you dinner.”

My heart flipped. A thank you dinner? A goodbye dinner?

In the last week, as Lars’s suspension continued, we’d enjoyed each other’s company, watching movies, cooking for Mabel, and playing songs, despite a faint ticking sound always in the back of my mind.

Still no sign of Mabel’s mom, but that last conversation about needing to start my life had stayed with me.

The happy-family bubble had to prick soon.

It was just a matter of who held the pin.

“I’ll never say no to a man cooking for me. What can I do?”

“Open the wine? I’ve already fed our girl, given her a bath, and put her down.” He nodded at the monitor.

“You’re beginning to sound like an old pro at this, Lars Nyquist.”

He shook his head. “Remember how terrified I was that first day? I didn’t even know I needed to change her diaper.”

“Your face when I told you.” I smiled fondly. “You’ve come a long way.”

He didn’t deny it. “So you know how she says ‘Yabby’ a lot? Today, I’m pretty sure she said ‘Yaddy’.

Now before you say anything, I know that it’s a little early in her development for speech, but she’s such a smart girl, that it could be possible.

I read today that some babies are speaking at ten months. ”

I wouldn’t be the one to point out that Mabel was a few days shy of the eight-month mark.

He eyed me. “You think I’m crazy?”

“You’re just a proud dad.”

He grinned and passed me the corkscrew. “The wine, sweet thing.”

Hiding my smile, I did as I was told. The table was already set with a bottle of red, real napkins, and candles. Between getting plates, silverware, and a block of parm, we criss-crossed the kitchen several times, a domestic dance that made me heady.

“Where did these flowers come from?” A gorgeous bouquet of roses, chrysanthemums, and eucalyptus was set in a pretty vase on the counter. Curious, I plucked out the card.

My dick sends his gratitude. –Jacobs

“Do I want to know?”

“Just Jakey thanking me for getting his wife in the mood to jump his bones.” Chuckling, he filled me in on how Insta images of Baby Mabel had made Zara broody and kickstarted the Jacobs’ love life.

“Lars Nyquist, uterus whisperer,” I said with a grin.

Ten minutes later, we were seated with spaghetti and meatballs.

“Not as fancy as burgers at the club,” he murmured.

“Damn, those burgers were fine.”

He leaned over and swiped at my chin, then sucked on his thumb. That little move, so comfortable, made me shiver.

We continued eating, chatting about Mabel, about last night’s game, about my latest video on Peyton Bell’s various cellies. It was easy, and I loved every minute.

I pushed the plate aside and rubbed my stomach. “That was so good. Did you really make that sauce from scratch?”

“Carla’s recipe.” At my curious expression, he added, “Dad’s second wife. She taught me how to cook.”

He hadn’t talked about his childhood much beyond that initial panic about his suitability for fatherhood. But Sven’s ghost hovered over everything, making Lars doubt. Was he good enough to be Mabel’s dad? Could he offer her the best possible life?

“You liked her?” If she was teaching him recipes, then there had to be some affection there.

“I did. She lasted about eighteen months? Age ten until my twelfth birthday. Probably the most stable time of my childhood.” He paused before adding, “Sven fucked it up as usual.”

“How so?”

He rubbed a finger around the rim of the wine glass. “He hit her.”

It shouldn’t have shocked me. I knew he was a piece of work, between the gambling and substance abuse, but to hear he also abused a woman he supposedly loved took him from pitiful addict to total asshole.

“More than once?”

A slow nod. “They both drank a lot, so there were a lot of fights. They sometimes got physical, so I think Carla excused most slaps as a ‘takes two to tango’ kind of deal. But on that day—my birthday—he was pissed at me because I slept in. Typically, I’d be up at five for practice, Carla didn’t wake me because … ”

“It was your birthday.”

“Right.” He grimaced. “But Sven didn’t care. He—” He broke off, the emotion of the memory obviously affecting him deeply.

“Hey.” I jumped up, circled the table, and took a seat on his lap. “You don’t have to tell me but I’m here for you if you want to share.”

“No, it’s okay.” He rubbed a hand along my thigh, a move that seemed to soothe him.

I’d noticed him rubbing Mabel’s back when he was upset.

“He dragged me out of bed and beat the living shit out of me. Carla tried to intervene, and he hit her so hard it knocked a tooth out. That’s when she decided she’d had enough. ”

My heart dropped. “And she left you? With him?”

He frowned. “She had her own stuff to deal with. Her own healing to complete. And I got a decent spaghetti sauce recipe out of it.”

She abandoned a child to an abuser. This reminded me of Lars’s concern for Vicki, that she might be in a tough spot with her husband. He understood about a woman’s need for self-preservation after his experience with his stepmom. “Did he continue to hit you?”

“I told him I’d quit hockey if he got physical with me again. It was the only leverage I had so I used it, though the idea of giving up hockey killed me. It was my way out. I called his bluff, and he caved. The odd slap here and there but nothing that left bruises. I could handle that.”

My eyes welled. “Lars, that was so unfair.”

“Hard to say if it was or not. It shaped me, gave me grit, built character.” He swiped at my tears. “Don’t be sad for me, enkelini. I’m okay.”

But was he? I’d grown up with so much and it wasn’t right that Lars didn’t have the same. Mabel was truly a gift. With her he could finally appreciate the miracle of a close-knit family.

I was still pissed at a dead man, though. “Then he almost got you kicked out of the league before you’d even started.”

His lips twitched, probably amused at my defensiveness.

“I was furious at how he tried to throw me under the bus. It definitely left a bad taste. I’d always felt like I was of use to him for one thing—to make him look good—but once he tried to blame me for his mistakes, I knew we could never be a real family.

Luckily hockey has no shortage of mentors. ”

Like my dad. They were closer than I had imagined, becoming even tighter in recent months. It made what we were doing so much more reckless.

“Aurora says you need someone to love, something to give you focus other than hockey. She seemed to think Mabel would be the making of you.”

“Did she now?” He considered that for a moment.

“Your family have been good to me, this last year especially. I wasn’t in a great place when my dad died.

Everything was unresolved. Your dad pulled me back from the brink, your mom welcomed me at her table, and your great-gran makes the best martinis on the planet. ”

“The Scandi Noir! I can’t believe she named a cocktail after you.”

He shrugged. “What can I say? She’s always had a thing for me and my beard.”

Not the only one. “We Kershaws tend to go all in on people.”

He paused a moment, like he was gathering his thoughts.

“I know I’ve said I’m grateful, Adeline, but it’s more than that.

It’s not just the practical help, shopping, appointments, and all that.

It’s the assurance you give me that I’m not like Sven.

I can be a good dad to Mabel, no matter what happens with Vicki. ”

“What’ll you do if she shows up?”

“Can you believe I’m almost hoping she doesn’t? I know that sounds strange?—”

“It doesn’t.”

“If she does, we’ll come to some sort of arrangement. Now I’ve had a taste of fatherhood I’m not going to just hand Mabel over.”

This man was in love with his little girl, and it was so beautiful to see.

“What are you smiling at?”

“I love seeing a happy ending. You and Mabel are so great together.” Only there was no room for me in this happily-ever-after.

“I love our chats,” he said, before dropping a light kiss on my lips. “I love our time together.”

My eyes stung, and I tried my best to hold it together. “So do I.”

The unspoken lay between us. I’ll miss this when it’s gone.

We both knew we were on borrowed time. This new life with Mabel, how in-sync he’d become with his team and especially with my father. I couldn’t compete with that.

He moved in to kiss me. He tasted of wine and need, and I couldn’t get enough of him. Of this. Of us.

But there was no us. This was a precarious time for Lars.

This conversation today had only confirmed what I suspected: he needed the support network of my family.

If he lost that—if he lost my dad’s friendship—then he might fall apart.

We had Mabel to think of. The Rebels. The success of my dad’s final year in the pros.

Everyone but us.

Lars

We cleared up the dishes, working side by side in the kitchen like the team we were solidifying each day. It was strange to think it. Teamwork up until this point in my life had meant hockey, and nothing else. I had no other family that qualified.

Now I had the Kershaws. I had the Rebels. I had Mabel.

And I had Adeline.

People said it took a village to raise a child.

For me, it had taken paid employees and abused women, not exactly the most heartwarming of combinations.

Talking about my father and his bad behavior made me wonder about Vicki.

Was she safe wherever she was with this husband who made her choose him over her child?

Then there was Adeline. I had no idea how this was going to play out. I just knew that I wanted more with this woman, and that was going to cause problems with my hockey partner and closest friend on the Rebels.

The dishes squared away, I poured the last of the wine into her glass and rinsed the bottle. We stood at the kitchen counter, staring at each other.

“You trying to get me drunk, Lars Nyquist?”

“You’re already intoxicated by me.”

She giggled. “Oh, really?”

“C’mere, sweet thing. Let me take care of you.”

She fell into my arms and damn, the feel of her was powerful.

Not just the physical molding of her curves to my body, but the way it pulled my heart and stretched it like taffy, like I could do anything because this was the endgame.

Adeline and Mabel, the family I would fight to protect. My beautiful girls.

We kissed, the connection between us suddenly deeper and more compelling than ever.

I’d unburdened myself tonight, shared the hurts inflicted on me, the doubts I had about my potential to be a good dad.

She had listened, defended, supported. She had stood in my corner, cheering me on. No one had ever given this to me.

“Thank you,” I whispered as I applied another lingering kiss. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ll always be here for Mabel.”

I drew back. “Not thanking you for Mabel—well, I am, always—but for being you. For being my rock, but also for being my angel. For lifting me up. For offering your strength, your body, your wit. Everything about you is so damn perfect.”

Her eyes welled. I thought she might say something, but words appeared to fail her. She kissed me instead.

Breathless, we separated, again gazing upon each other like we were seeing for the first time. I didn’t want to impute too much significance to this, but it felt big. Real. Terrifying.

She clasped my hand and led me upstairs. I loved seeing her take the lead; I was a slave to her and would happily follow her anywhere.

In the bedroom, we stripped each other slowly, taking our time. Recognizing that this thing between us had entered a new phase.

I kissed down her body, spending a few heady seconds on those perfect breasts, the flare of her hip, the curve of her ass. Those soft inner thighs were perfect against my lips, and when I tasted her, the tang of her arousal sent blood rushing to my cock.

After the slow strip, I tried to keep what followed on the same speed setting.

But I wasn’t getting any younger and waiting had never been my strong point.

Suited up, I entered her in a single thrust. She bracketed my body with her thighs, pulled me deeper, whispered sweet words of desire and need in my ear.

Rocking into her, I let myself fall into pleasure and push away the trouble rearing its head.

And when she cried out, I captured that pleasure with my mouth, holding it, dragging it inside me, until I could no longer keep it behind the gates. Mindless, I let go with a final stroke inside her, loving how she held me tight. Loving her.

Knowing this was likely the end of one important relationship, but recognizing in my heart that it was the start of another.

A family of my own.