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FOURTEEN

MARA

NOVEMBER

“I can’t believe we’re going on some behind-the-scenes extravaganza because Harper’s dad has a crush on you.” Gabi was enjoying our trip to the game a little too much, reading into every possible detail.

“He’s probably just horny,” I said, looking around to make sure the kids couldn’t hear.

Gabi guffawed. “If that’s all it was, he could probably just find some willing fan.”

I focused on loading the diaper bag with snacks and distractions, going through my mental checklist of every possible thing that could go awry at this game to make sure I had everything.

“Ooh! I think he’s pulling up now!” Gabi called from the window.

At the same moment, my phone buzzed.

JACK LEROY

Here

Be right down!

But when I swung the front door open, Jack stood leaning against the door frame—in a three-piece suit. “Hey.”

Had I swallowed my own tongue? “Hi!” I croaked. “I feel . . . underdressed.”

He lightly shook his head, surveying me from head to toe. “You’re not. Let’s go.”

“Aspen! Harper’s here! Are your shoes on?” I called out.

Aspen came skidding into the front hall and I opened the door to let Jack in. He held out a hand to stop me. “Kids are in the car. I don’t like them to leave my sight.”

“Oh, right. Duh. Makes me sound like a bad parent.”

Gabi cleared her throat behind me, and I turned back toward her while Aspen put his shoes on. “Hi, Jack,” she said with a smug grin.

“Hello.” Jack flashed his teeth with his grimace smile.

She was undeterred by his attitude. “Thanks for bringing me along! You know, even if I am just free childcare.”

Jack’s mouth flapped. “I . . . can pay you. I don’t want you to feel like?—”

Gabi waved him off. “No, no. Stupid joke. I’m excited for the game.”

Jack had his phone out. “What’s your Venmo?”

“It’s really fine,” Gabi assured him, scooping Hazel up and lowering her into her car seat.

“Ready!” Aspen chimed.

I squatted to fasten Hazel’s buckles, but Jack appeared at my side and took over.

“Hey, buddy,” he said to Hazel.

Hazel gave Jack a broad, toothy grin. “Hi.”

“You remember Mr. Jack?” I asked. “Say ‘hi, Jack.’”

“Hi, Jack.”

Jack’s eyes crinkled at the edges even if he didn’t outwardly smile. “Hi. You ready to see me play hockey?” he asked, and again, his voice had that tiny hint of baby intonation. “I won’t have you to help me like last time.”

“Hockey,” Hazel repeated.

“Yeah, good job, kid,” Jack said, with a genuine smile this time.

Okay, fine. The cute moments between Jack and Hazel were starting to pile up. I was never going to use my ovaries again for their intended purpose, but if I were, this is the sort of thing that would get them going.

Ovulating was still fun. And god, sex when you’re ovulating? Top tier.

Sex with Jack when ovulating? Who knows. I shouldn’t have been thinking about that.

I mean, of course, I had some sort of feeling about him. He had next to everything going for him in my book. He was a little gruff, sure, but he seemed like a good dad. And well, he was hot. His mop of dark curly hair had dashes of salt throughout. Then add brooding brown eyes and that scar in his eyebrow that was somehow hotter than the Disney lion. I’d seen his face in a few variations of shave, but never completely clean.

And the tattoos. Good god, the tattoos. Ink crept up the side of his neck, down his arms, across his hands, and from the times I’d seen him in exercise clothes, I knew he had a massive crow on one muscled thigh.

Those hands. I just. Ugh. I had a strong emo phase and inked up boys (and girls for that matter) were just my thing. I had a decent amount of ink myself: a My Chemical Romance art piece on my inner arm, a skull on my ribs, and the Believers Never Die Fall Out Boy album cover on my thigh. So yeah, Jack and I had that in common.

But then there’s the whole rich athlete thing that brings reality crashing back in. I was about as outrageous as a middle schooler thinking they’re going to marry their favorite boyband member (also something I may have thought).

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the view.

I must have zoned out because Gabi tapped my shoulder. Jack was headed out the door and down my apartment’s steps with Hazel’s car seat in hand, Aspen already talking his ear off.

“I think he’s got a little buddy,” Gabi said.

“Stab me in the heart,” I muttered. “Or ovaries.”

“It’s cute!” she objected.

“Oh, I know,” I said, raising my eyebrows at her. “I’m well aware.”

We got to Jack’s giant SUV thing and he came around to open our doors, something I wholly did not expect from him. I pointed Gabi to the front seat and she shook her head, gesturing me on.

“Somebody has to get in,” Jack sighed, tired of our shenanigans already. “Hey, do you need your cane?”

“I’m good today,” I said. “Thanks for checking.”

“You sure? I saw you limp.”

“What are you, the walking police? Sometimes I don’t want to deal with it. If I’m mostly fine, I skip it.”

Jack bit the inside of his cheek. “It’s a lot of walking, sweetheart.”

I could feel but not see Gabi tittering like she’d explode. “Yeah, sweetheart. Go get it.”

Jack held out a hand. “Give me your keys. I’ll get it. Is it inside the door?”

I blustered, caught off guard by his enthusiasm. “Uh, yeah. There’s one in the front hall.”

Without a word, Jack took the keys from my hand and sprinted up the steps, his butt not even jiggling once. I had forgotten that little benefit of playing hockey. Gabi got into the bucket seat in the back and I climbed in the front. Before I could lean out to close my door, Jack was back by my side, laying my cane between my leg and the console and shutting my door for me. I turned around to shoot Gabi a look, but she was absorbed in the kids.

“Hey, Miss Ordonez,” Harper said.

“Well, hello, Harper. Is this your car?”

“Yep. It’s Daddy’s. He got it so he didn’t have to get a stupid shitty minivan.” Harper said it so plainly, like foul words weren’t coming out of her mouth.

Jack had just sat in the driver’s seat and pressed start. “I never said that.”

“Yes, you did,” Jace said, backing Harper up. “You said minivans are for sad moms who have given up.”

I stifled a laugh. “Damn, Jack. Teaching them some judgy stances at a young age.”

“Okay, everybody shut up,” he said. “Is everybody buckled? Jace?”

“Yep!”

“Harp?”

“Yep!”

“Aspen?”

“Yep!”

“Hazel?”

“Uh, she says yes,” Gabi cut in.

“Alright, and you two grown-ups?” Jack reached over and tugged at my seatbelt like he was checking it for stability.

“Yes, we’re good,” Gabi laughed. “Man, thorough.”

“Safety is serious,” he said.

“Don’t you get in fights all the time?” I asked.

“Not all the time,” he sighed like I was being so annoying, turning up the music and tapping his inked-up fingers on the steering wheel. I reached to turn it down a little.

“Kinda loud,” I yelled over the music.

“Daddy needs to get pumped!” Harper chimed in.

“You mean driving around two adults and four children doesn’t get you pumped?” I teased.

“I’m sorry. Is this Nickelback?” Gabi cut in.

“Yeah, so?” Jack snapped, looking harried from everyone’s wheedling.

Gabi snickered and Jack pushed on. “What?”

“You unironically listen to Nickelback?” I asked, trying not to let mirth leak into my voice.

He screwed up his face, lifting his hand off the wheel to point at me. “It’s fuck—messed up that people make fun of them. They’re a great band.” He sang along for a few lines to prove his point.

“Wait, wait, you’re Canadian, right?” I asked.

“Yeah. Nova Scotia, why?”

“Makes sense. Canadians always love Nickelback.”

“Every one of you secretly loves them,” he said, starting to bang his head while maintaining a school zone level of speed as we cruised out of the neighborhood. “Hey, I need a snack. Reach in the middle there.”

“Chocolate chip cookies?” Gabi said, incredulous.

“Yeah. Gimme one.” Jack flipped his hand back toward Gabi.

“Make it two!” I said, taking one from his hand. “You make these?”

“Yep. Your recipe.”

“Let’s see how you did,” I said, taking a bite. “Not bad! You actually cook or something?”

“I have to eat, so yeah,” he grumbled.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to insult you. Just—my ex never did. He was a helpless man unless it was hot dogs.”

“Helplessness is learned,” Jack grumbled.

Red rushed into my cheeks. “That’s ableist.”

“No, it’s not,” he argued. “You do everything you can do. I see you. It’s not your fault some stuff’s hard for you. Your ex was choosing to be helpless so you’d do it.” Like we hadn’t just stumbled into a serious conversation, a new Nickelback song played, and he turned it up. “Ready to kick it, kids?”

And for the rest of the ride to the arena, Jack and his kids belted out hits from Nickelback, and who would believe it, Creed.

Gabi had Hazel in her arms and I held Aspen’s hand.

“I want to hold Harper’s hand!” he objected.

“Fine, but let’s get through the parking lot first.”

“Ah, shit,” Jack said, turning to me. “They usually take pictures when we walk in. I can tell them not to if you want.”

Aspen gasped. “I’m going to be famous?”

“Up to your mom,” Jack said. “I get it if you don’t want them photographed.”

“Oh, um.” I was flustered, not expecting this. “What do you do?”

“I’m used to the kids being seen now and then. They’re classy with it. But I can ask them to blur their faces.”

I hesitated and Jack narrowed his eyes at me. “Hang tight.”

Jack took off down the hallway that was to serve as the catwalk, and Aspen and Harper went skipping off behind him, Jace not far behind them. “Aspen, wait, please,” I called.

“Wait for your mom,” Jack said, turning around with a smile.

Hazel, seeing the older kids taking off, lunged to get out of Gabi’s arms. I barely caught her, my back twinging. Jack’s eyes darkened. “You hurt yourself? Where’s your cane?”

“I didn’t need it, Jack?—”

But before I could finish my thought, he was wrestling Hazel out of my arms. “Come here, you,” he said under his breath to her.

So there we were, walking in as a mass of people with the photographer cheering us on. “We all have to hold hands!” Harper cried.

Gabi put her hands up. “No way.” She stepped back and bumped into a man walking in behind her, also looking sharp. His hands gripped her upper arms to steady her, like it was out of some 90s romcom. I made big “we’re talking about this later” eyes at her.

“Are you . . . a guest of Leroy?” the man asked.

Jack tugged on my hand, the rest of the group waiting for me. Gabi’s voice became a drone in the background as I stepped ahead with Jack, his kids, and my kids, a massive clump of people.

Within a few steps, Hazel was kicking to get out of Jack’s arms. He put her down and she toddled after the older kids, laughing her little head off. Jack stopped holding my hand, but we stood back and let the kids steal the show.

I felt a brush along my outer hip and realized that while Jack wasn’t holding my hand, he was still holding me.

What the hell? Maybe the crush was more serious than I thought. Maybe that almost kiss was . . . something.

Harper and Jace dragged Aspen into the locker room and I shuffled to catch up.

“They’re fine,” Jack assured me. “We’ve got a lot of kid-friendly guys in there.”

He steered me ahead by my lower back and we entered the chaotic pre-game scene. Some guys were already out of their suits and taping their sticks. One guy was juggling to the kids’ amazement. “That’s Obi. He’s our goalie. Literally a magician,” Jack said, leaning down to my ear.

“So, uh, this is where you work?”

Jack was quite self-conscious all of a sudden. “Yep. This is the office.”

Jack’s goalie teammate pulled a quarter out of Aspen’s ear and he gasped. Hazel stood back, eyeing him cautiously. “I don’t trust him either, Haze,” Jack announced to everyone’s laughter.

“Jackie baby, when’d you get two more kids?” A man with longer reddish-brown hair wandered in from the doorway and gestured to me. “And who is this?”

“This is Mara. They’re hers. Her son Aspen is Harp’s best friend,” Jack said. “Mara, that’s Mikey. He’s a royal pain in my ass.”

“You love me, you big lug,” Mikey said, kissing each of Jack’s cheeks, then extending his hand to me. “Nice to meet you, Mara.”

He crouched down to Hazel’s level. “Who’s this?”

“That’s Hazel.”

“We just had our first baby. A little girl,” Mikey beamed, and I couldn’t help getting a little doe-eyed over such a proud papa moment from one of Jack’s teammates. So much for hockey players being thugs. Maybe Bryce just attracted the wrong kind. “How old is she?”

“She’s fifteen months. And congratulations!”

“Gosh. She’s still both little and big,” he said.

“I remember those just-born days. Bet you’re tired.”

Mikey got a wistful look. “My wife’s doing an amazing job. I hardly notice.”

“Anyway,” Jack announced, cutting that conversation off. “Aspen, do you want to help me tape my stick?”

Aspen’s eyes lit up and Jack reached into his locker.

“Let me go get changed and I’ll be right back in.”

Gabi sauntered over with flushed cheeks.

“Where have you been?” I murmured. “You make a friend?”

“Seems I’m the new ambassador to Russia,” she said, acting all proud of herself.

“Oh?”

“He asked for my number,” she said, refusing to meet my eyes.

“Nice, Gab!”

“Not nice! I’m a first grade teacher,” she hissed, gesturing around us. “I have no business with all this. I’m a commoner.”

“Stranger things have happened,” I sang.

But then I looked up and choked on my own spit, perhaps like a pelican might if it were swallowing a large fish and having difficulty getting it down. I held a fist up to my mouth as I coughed.

Jack motherfucking Leroy had entered the room shirtless, stepping to his locker and pulling some outrageously tight long-sleeved shirt over his head. My mouth must have been hanging open watching the sinews of his muscles and the tattoos that covered them ripple through such a basic movement.

I tightened my jaw to bring me back to life. Stop ogling your kid’s friend’s dad at his job.

“Alright, Aspen,” Jack said. “Let’s do the tape job.”