Page 9

CHAPTER 8

EMERY

When the game resumes on the ice, without Alexei, it’s hard to focus. My parents text, letting me know they’ve gone to the hospital just in case they can be helpful there.

Which leaves me with the WAGs, feeling strangely unmoored.

“Should we go somewhere quieter?”

“That’s a good idea. Shannon, can we?—”

“Of course.”

“Emery?”

I jerk my head towards Ani, blinking. “Pardon?”

She rubs my arm. “It’s okay. Come on.”

With a start, I realize Becca and Harper are already gone, and Kiley is at the door, holding it open for the rest of us.

As if from a distance, I see myself put one foot in front of the other and follow them to the team offices. A security guard lets us in a locked door, and the noise of the arena fades away.

Shannon appears out of a supply room carrying a stack of printer paper and a variety of white board markers. “Improvised babysitting materials,” she says. “I’m not sure two-year-olds draw, though. These might be more for Charlie. Emery, can you grab that stuffed piper?”

I pick up the oversized plush bagpipe-holding boar she points at and follow her down the hall.

Becca and Harper are in a conference room with the two kids, watching carefully as Charlie helps Inessa climb onto a couch—and then immediately jumps off.

She stands on the soft cushion, as if to follow, and my heart leaps into my throat.

“Be careful.” The words rip out of me, and I’m crossing to her before I know what my feet are doing. “Here, want a friend?”

She drops back onto her bum, safely sitting on the couch.

I crouch in front of her and hold out the stuffed mascot. Big, dark eyes blink back at me.

“Hi, baby girl,” I say with a sigh, my heart squeezing. She’s so little. “I’m Emery.”

She stares.

“I know, I’m a stranger. But Shannon thought you might like this guy.” I wiggle his bagpipe, and the corner of her mouth twitches. “Do you know him?”

That gets a reluctant nod.

“Do you think he might want to jump off the couch, too?”

Her eyes light up, and she grabs at the toy. I shift back, and she walks him to the edge of the cushion, then sends him flying and laughs.

Charlie climbs up beside her again and jumps.

Behind me, Becca groans. “You are a terrible influence, Charlie.”

Inessa laughs and covers her face with her hands.

I tickle her fingers with the retrieved toy, and she clutches it against her chest for a second before shoving it at Charlie and babbling something I don’t understand.

Keeping one eye on her, I turn to Becca. “Does she mostly speak Russian?”

She nods. “She seems to understand English as much as I’d expect a toddler to, though. But she’s pretty shy.”

“That’s okay,” I murmur, my gaze dragging back to the little girl.

Inessa studies me right back, both of us unsure of what to make of the other.

I give her a small smile. “I think we’re going to hang out together tonight, okay?”

Before she can answer, I get a text message from my mom.

Mom

They’re going to admit her, but it’ll take a few hours. Alexei and his dad are in with her. Dad and I are going to a diner across the street from the hospital, do you want us to pick you up?

Emery

I’m with Alexei’s daughter…is there a plan for her?

Not yet. Do you want us to come back?

Some of the WAGs are here, too. I’m okay.

Sorry, honey. Your dad is hangry. You know how he gets.

Really, it’s okay. We’ll hang out here for a bit.

“Is there an update?” Shannon asks, dropping to the floor beside me.

I tell her the little that I know, then shrug. “How long can we stay in your conference room?”

“All night, if need be.”

Harper joins us, holding up a keyring. “I have Mrs. Artyomov’s car keys. If Alexei can’t come back to pick Inessa up, one of us could take her home and put her to bed.”

Shannon glances at her watch. “We have some time before we need to make that decision.”

On the couch, Inessa rubs her eyes with her little fist.

Harper winces. “Think she might nap here?”

“I might need to take Charlie home for that to happen,” Becca says.

“What!?” Charlie exclaims. “I don’t wanna go home!”

“Which probably means we should have left half an hour ago,” his mother retorts. “Ten more minutes of playing, and then we’ll go find Daddy.”

Inessa watches this exchange, and when Becca says Daddy , her lower lip just out. “Papa?”

“Your grandpa is busy right now,” Becca says.

Inessa shakes her head. “No Deda. Papa.” Her face crumples. “Papa.”

Ah. Papa is Daddy. Deda must be Grampa.

“She wants Alexei,” I say.

And then I get an idea. I pull out my phone and type his name into the search engine.

Thank God the internet is chock-a-block full of photos of Alexei Artyomov—something I never thought I’d say.

Inessa grabs my phone, her eyes wide and her voice watery. “My Papa.”

“Yep.” I show her how to scroll. “That’s your Papa.”

She jams her thumb down on a photo and giggles when it goes blurry.

That gives me an idea. “Can I see that for a second?”

She warily hands me back the phone, but crowds closer so she can see what I’m doing. I quickly save a couple of photos, promising myself that I will not keep them. This is just about entertaining a little girl who doesn’t have anything to do with the grown up, complicated feelings I have for her dad.

Then I open a photo editing app I sometimes use. I select the first download, then apply a clown filter to it.

Inessa shrieks in surprise. “Papa!”

I gesture to the different filters. “Do you want to play?”

She reaches for the phone tentatively, and when I don’t pull it away, she locks on and smashes her little thumbs down on the different filters.

When Becca finally scoops Charlie up and makes him say goodnight, Inessa barely notices that her friend is leaving.

Shannon flicks on a lamp, turns off the overhead light, and closes the conference room door. People start to filter into the outer office now that the game is over—and Hamilton won.

Harper, Kiley, and Ani slip out.

Shannon gets her laptop and sets up at the far end of the table.

I curl up on the couch, and Inessa slides right up against me. We spend the better part of an hour morphing the photos I saved, and searching for more. Sometimes it seems like she’s on the verge of tears again, but she’s pretty easily distracted.

And then her head drifts to the side, leaning heavier and heavier against my arm, until my phone falls into her lap.

Harper steps back into the room, carrying a child-sized bright pink winter coat, and I lift my finger to my lips.

“She’s asleep,” I whisper.

She nods. “Do you think you could lift her up so we can get this on her?”

Slowly, I ease Inessa up against my torso. In her sleep, she winds her arms around my neck, and my chest squeezes tight. “It’s okay,” I murmur. “Harper’s going to take you home.”