Page 8

Chapter eight

Emmett Foster

“Whoa!” One of my teammates, Oliver, turns his body to the left, holding his palms up.

“Sorry,” I mutter and pass him to continue down the aisle of the plane. I’m not usually so distracted, but I was checking to see if Hazel had texted me back. I was hoping to hear from her one more time before takeoff.

“You almost ran over Oliver,” another teammate, Emerson, adds as I take the seat beside his.

“You’re being dramatic,” I say in return, watching my screen to see if any bubble appears to let me know she’s typing.

I wouldn’t be mad if she didn’t respond right away. She’s taking June to school right now. I wanted to know if June had a good morning. Some trips are better than others as far as her missing me goes, but she’s seemed fine with Hazel so far. I was worried that something would go wrong while I wasn’t home, but Hazel has proved herself to be a great nanny.

“You’re even more grouchy than usual,” Emerson points out.

I shoot him a glare, then whip my head back toward my phone when it buzzes in my palm.

Hazel: June had a great morning! She ate all of her breakfast, and I just dropped her off at school.

She attached a photo of June smiling over a plate of pancakes, fruit, and eggs. June’s hair is in some kind of elaborate style with braids and two buns on the top of her head. While I learned how to style my daughter’s hair, I’ve never been able to do anything as intricate as that.

“Who’s Hazel?” Emerson asks. He’s so close that his chin is almost touching my shoulder. I shove him away.

“Why are you so nosy?”

“You don’t talk much, and since friends are supposed to know things about each other, I have to take matters into my own hands.”

I run a hand over my beard. “I don’t remember ever saying we were friends.”

“That’s another thing we’re working on,” he replies with a grin. “Now who’s Hazel? Did you get yourself a girlfriend while we were off?”

I let my head fall back against the seat. “I wish we didn’t have to travel as a team.”

He laughs. “Come on, man. Tell me and I’ll leave you alone.” I raise a brow in disbelief. “For at least an hour.”

With a sigh, I answer his incessant questions. “Hazel is June’s nanny. My parents are overseas on a trip, so I hired Hazel.”

Against my better judgment, I open up my phone again and scroll through my text thread with Hazel. A few texts up is a photo of her and June smiling, park swings in the background. Their cheeks are rosy like they’ve been exercising, and they have matching ponytails in.

“This is her,” I tell him, turning the phone so he can see.

He whistles. “She’s gorgeous. Is she single?”

My brow furrows. “How would I know?”

I hadn’t thought to ask. Even if I wanted to date someone, I certainly wouldn’t ask out my daughter’s nanny . Hazel would balk at the idea as well, what with the ten-year age gap between us.

“Could have come up in the interview process.” He smirks. “It would have come up in mine.”

I shake my head. “This is why we’re not friends.”

“Don’t be like that,” he says and throws an unwelcome arm around my shoulder. “We’re M&M. You can’t break us up.”

What is it with all my friends giving me ridiculous nicknames? Shaw started calling me E.T. after he found out my middle name is Thomas. Emerson has called the both of us M&M since he joined the team last year. Neither of them cares that I hate nicknames.

I toss his arm up off my shoulder and let it drop. It lands on the armrest between our seats.

“I told you what you wanted to know. Now I want an hour of silence.”

“You’re cashing in on that now? We’ve got a whole flight. You should probably break it up into chunks or choose a time when you know you’ll really want it.”

I reach into my backpack and pull out the noise-cancelling headphones I never travel without. As soon as I put them on, the plane goes blessedly silent. Emerson mouths not fair to me before I close my eyes and sufficiently block out the world.

He’s a nice guy, but no matter how great the person, I’m not the type to talk for an entire plane ride. Especially not after two days of being around people nonstop. I desperately need a break.

As I relax into the seat, an image of June and Hazel comes to mind, making the corner of my mouth hitch up on one side. It’ll be good to see June again.

“Daddy!” June yells as soon as I walk into the kitchen from the garage.

She hops down from a stool and runs toward me. I bend to scoop her up into my arms for a hug. She wraps her legs around me, not letting go even when she pulls her face back to kiss my cheek.

“I missed you, did you miss me?” she asks.

“Of course I did. Did you have fun with Hazel?”

I walk her further into the kitchen, noticing Hazel watching us with a smile while she spreads cheese onto what looks to be homemade pizza dough and sauce.

“We had the bestest time! She did my hair in a new style each day and took me to the park, and now we’re making pizza.” June wiggles out of my arms and goes back to where she was standing beside Hazel.

“How was your trip?” Hazel asks. She hands June the cheese, letting her finish spreading it across the three personal-sized pizzas. Three . She thought of me.

“It was fine,” I reply. Her smile shrinks a little. I must have sounded more curt than intended. “We won,” I elaborate.

“I saw that! Congratulations. I showed June the highlights while we ate breakfast this morning.”

“Yeah, we couldn’t watch it because it was soooo late at night,” June chimes in while placing pepperonis on one of the pizzas. “Miss Hazel said all princesses need their beauty sleep.”

A smile tugs at my mouth. The way Hazel explains things to her is much more creative than I ever have. From the beginning, I explained things to June like she was older than she really was. I think it gave her a bigger vocabulary and some independence, but she’s likely been lacking in the childlike wonder area.

“You must have gotten a lot of sleep, then, because you’re the most beautiful princess in the world,” I say and reach across the counter to squeeze her chin.

She giggles and pulls back, almost falling off the stool if not for Hazel catching her.

“Careful, silly girl,” Hazel says as she makes sure she’s steady before going back to making the pizza in front of her.

I’d forgotten Hazel was here for a moment. I normally wouldn’t have spoken like that in front of anyone but June and my mom. I don’t like to share those personal moments with anyone, but I guess it’s okay. I wanted to see June smile and laugh after we were apart these past few days.

“Do you want to make your pizza?” Hazel asks. “I can if you’d rather sit down and rest. All I need is for you to tell me what you like.”

“I can make it,” I say, not wanting her to do anything else for me.

I wash my hands, then take the place on her right side, with June on the left. The pizzas are positioned close together, so that means we are too. I grab the bowl of sauce and try not to touch Hazel in the process.

“I’m all done!” June announces with a clap of her hands.

“Why don’t you go wash up in the bathroom. Make sure you wash your face too, you got flour on your cheeks,” Hazel tells her before I can say anything.

“Yes, ma’am!” June hops down and skips off.

“Oh!” Hazel exclaims, glancing up at me. “I’m sorry. You’re home, so you probably don’t want me telling June what to do.”

I shrug, which causes our arms to brush. “It’s not a big deal. I would have told her to do the same.”

“Okay, if you say so.”

We fall into silence. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Hazel gently rearranging June’s pizza. She put all her toppings and cheese in the very center, assuring that the middle would be undercooked and possibly soggy. Without Hazel moving things around, the pizza would have been practically inedible.

I reach for the olives at the same time Hazel does. Our hands collide, her soft fingers brushing against mine. Warmth travels up my arm at the contact. She immediately jerks her hand back.

“Sorry.” The word comes out as a squeak.

“It’s okay,” I say, my voice coming out a pitch lower than I intended.

I chance a look at her. Her cheeks are flushed like they were in her picture at the park, and she’s moving a pepperoni to the left a centimeter, then to the right again as if the placement will be graded.

Do I…make her nervous? I’ve been known to inspire anxiety in people, but that’s usually in batters at the plate or people I want to leave me alone. Why would she be this way? Maybe I’m worse at social interactions than I thought. I hope I don’t scare her off. With how much June loves her, I can’t afford to lose her.