Page 22

CHAPTER 21

ALEXEI

After my big win against St. Louis, the coaches decide to give Monaghan some ice time in his home town, so I don’t play in Detroit. They still need me to dress as the backup, although they did offer to call someone up on an emergency basis so I could go home.

My parents both loudly dressed me down for that.

“This is what we have dreamed of, Alexei,” my father said. “I went home today and saw Emery and Inessa. They are fine.”

I knew they were. I have a growing collection of photos Emery has sent me, selfies of two happy, busy girls, that prove they were fine on their own for a few days.

But I still let out a sigh of relief when I finally get home at two in the morning, after being gone for almost four days.

Too long.

And yet I’ll have to do it twice next week, and again the week after that. Three more road trips until we get to the playoffs.

Thirteen more games.

Emery thinks I didn’t see the tear marks on her cheeks again after that first call, but I’ve noticed every hesitant note in her face, every blotchy red mark. I know she’s doing the best she can, but she didn’t ask to be thrown into the deep end caring for my two-year-old.

I leave my suitcase in the foyer, toe off my dress shoes so I don’t make any sound, then take the stairs two at a time.

The baby gate at the top of the stairs squeaks a little as I swing it open. There’s a light on in the shared bathroom beside Inessa’s nursery. I peek my head into her room, but she’s not in her bed.

The door to the library on the other side of the bathroom is open as well, so I don’t feel like I’m invading Emery’s temporary space when I glance in there. Nobody’s there, either.

My mouth tugs up at the corners as I quietly stride to the other end of the house, noticing now that there’s a dim glow from my room.

Sure enough, they are curled up in my bed, Inessa in the middle, holding on to Emery’s shirt with a tiny but fierce hold.

I go into my closet, pushing the door closed before turning on the light so I can change out of my suit.

Once I have sweats and a t-shirt on, I try to wake up Emery, but she’s dead to the world.

Inessa, though, wakes up at the slight jostle.

“Papa?”

She sleepily reaches for me, and I scoop her up. “Let’s give Emery the bed to herself, okay?”

She whines and shakes her head.

And I almost give in and let her lie down again. The temptation to stretch out on the other side of her myself is strong.

It’s a massive bed.

It wouldn’t even be the first time I’ve been in a bed with Emery, not that she’d appreciate that reminder.

But I’ve pushed against her boundaries enough over the last few days. It would be wrong to crawl into bed and fall asleep next to her.

The problem is it also feels wrong to carry my daughter away from the big, warm bed where her babysitter sleeps.

In an alternate universe, I should have every right to slide into bed next to them in the middle of the night, and hold them both tight.