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October

I nhaling deeply, the smell of the fresh sheet of ice beneath my skates floods my system as I take the first few strides of my rookie lap. The cool air fills my lungs as an awestruck smile takes over my face. My childhood dream of playing in the NHL is coming to fruition today.

Circling the net, I crossover to pick up speed as I snag a puck from the top of the circles and shoot it in the back of the net.

Fuck, this feels good—like I’m right at home.

Two blondes are cheering me on, banging on the glass beside the home bench, so I make my way over to them. When I get to the glass, I wave at Cadence, who’s wearing a mini version of my jersey and noise-canceling headphones that take up most of her tiny head.

“Uncle Car Car loves you so much, Cadey Cat!” I holler so she can hear me, blowing her a kiss.

The announcer’s voice sounds through the arena. “Make some noise for your Minnesota Wolverrriiiinnneeesssss!” Black and lime green jerseys flood the ice as my teammates join me out on the ice.

Our opponents, the Colorado Summits, also take the ice for their warm-up, but I refuse to look across the ice, knowing that if I do, my eyes will likely land on him , and I refuse to spoil this memory. Instead, I turn my back to the other half of the ice and squat down to stretch my legs.

“Careful, Carsey,” Jax taunts, waggling his eyebrows as he pops a squat beside me. “If you keep stretching your hip flexors like that, you’ll wind up with even more ladies fawning over you on TikTok.”

He says this just as he spreads his knees wide and begins pumping his hips back and forth like he’s fucking the ice.

Chuckling, I reply, “Nah, I’m pretty sure you’re giving them all the content they need.”

When he gets even more into it, looking up and winking at a group of girls with their phones aimed at the two of us, I playfully slash his shinnies with my stick.

“You’re really leaning into that playboy image right now,” I tell him, shaking my head at his theatrics.

Jax leans closer, voice lowering as he asks, “Can you believe we’re about to play in our first NHL game together? How the fuck is this real life?”

“Right? It doesn’t feel real. Want me to pinch you, Jaxy?”

“Oh, fuck off,” he says, swatting my gloved hand away. “I’m not trying to make it dusty in here, but how surreal is it that we played on the same mini mites team together and now we both just took our rookie laps on the same sheet of ice for our NHL debuts?”

Unwilling to get too choked up, I hold my fist out for him as he bumps his glove against mine. “Let’s do this,” we say in unison, chuckling to ourselves.

Hours later, I’ve barely started down the player’s hallway when Mack runs and jumps into my arms. Spinning her around, I bask in this moment with my twin. We’ve always been each other’s biggest cheerleaders through every high and with every low, we’ve had each other to lean on. I can’t imagine Mack not being here on my biggest day.

“Great game, Carse. I’m so unbelievably proud of you. Scoring a goal in your rookie debut? Amazing!” she tells me as she brings me in for another big hug.

“Thanks, Mack. I think it’s because I had my good luck charm here tonight,” I say, letting go of Mack and seeking out Dakota. I don’t see her, but I do see my Cadey Cat. I make grabby hands at my mom, who’s holding her. “Come here, Cadey Cat. Let Uncle Car Car hold his little lucky charm.”

Cadence practically throws herself out of my mom’s arms and into my outstretched ones. She looks adorable in her little Wolverines jersey. “How did she do?” I ask Mack.

“She did surprisingly well. She even tracked the puck and said Ca-Ca a few times,” Mack gushes. That’s our girl!

Ian, my college roommate and former teammate, slaps my shoulder. “Hell of a game, man.”

He then wraps his arm around Mack’s shoulder, and I watch as she stiffens from his touch. I’ve told Ian countless times that he and Mack wouldn’t be good together. Not to mention, I don’t think she’s ready for a relationship. She can tell me all she wants that she’s making strides in therapy to forget Griffin, but I know her.

“Ca-Ca!” Cadence exclaims. She adjusts in my arms and slaps my cheeks.

“Ouch!” I fake being hurt, rubbing my cheek.

Cadence’s responding giggles make us all ring out in laughter, the sound echoing off the walls.

Mack’s laughter is cut off and I stare at her in concern as I watch her demeanor shift, her face paling completely. I turn to see what has her so upset, quickly realizing it’s not what, but who.

While the rest of the Colorado Summits continue to file out of the visiting locker room, Griffin Turner is stopped dead in his tracks. It took everything in me to focus on the fact that I was playing my first NHL game instead of wanting to punch him in the face again for walking out of her life almost two years ago.

“Mama! Look! Mama!” Cadence squeals, pointing toward a mural on the wall.

Mack grabs Cadence from me and wraps her into her arms, nuzzling her neck—breathing her in.

“Hi, baby,” Mack coos to Cadence.

Cadence grabs Mack’s cheeks, placing a big, sloppy kiss on her face before giggling.

Mack turns to me, leans in, and whispers, “I can’t do this, Carse. Please get me out of here.”

Before I can do just that, Griffin growls, “Can someone please explain what’s going on?”

I wince at the tone of his voice. My mom quickly jumps into action, grabbing Cadence from Mack’s arms, which is probably a good thing because Mack looks murderous.

“We’ll take her to the restaurant and meet you both there,” Mom tells us.

“Ian, why don’t you ride with us,” Dad suggests.

“Works for me,” Ian replies.

Walking up to my mom, I wrap her and Cadence into a hug. “Uncle Carse loves you so much, Cadey Cat,” I say before my parents swiftly head down the hallway with Cadence and Ian.

“What’s her name?” Griffin demands.

“Wh-what? Whose name?” Mack stutters.

“Cut the shit, McKenna,” he says in a chilling tone, one I’ve never heard him use before. “What’s my daughter’s name? She’s mine, right? Jesus—of course, she’s mine. Look at her eyes. They’re a carbon copy of mine.”

The anger I thought I had buried starts to resurface. “Alright, let’s take this conversation back here. There’s no one in the film room right now. We can talk away from where the media may overhear,” I suggest before leading us to a room down the hallway.

Once we’re inside, I turn to find Mack staring back at Griff with a thunderous expression. “Is this some sort of fucked up game you’re playing, Griff? What is wrong with you?” she shouts.

“What is wrong with me? Who has a secret child and doesn’t tell the father? Is she mine? Tell me right now.”

“Yes—dammit! Of course, she’s yours. Why are you acting this way—as if you’re shocked? As if you didn’t look me right in my eyes and tell me that you didn’t care that I was pregnant and to stay the fuck away from you?” Her eyes are glassy now, filled with unshed tears.

“You’re lying. You’ve never said a word to me about a baby—a pregnancy.”

“What are you talking about? That night in Boston, when you played against Carson, I came to the after-party to tell you.”

He recoils. “And you clearly forgot to tell me—hence why I had no clue I’ve had a daughter for the past two years—”

I cut in to correct him, “She’s eighteen months. And I was there with Mack.”

Placing my hands on Griff’s shoulders, I say, “I was there that night with Mack when she told you. After seeing you when we got there, I should’ve never let her tell you by herself. I’d never seen you like that, man. It was like you had taken everything under the kitchen sink—you were crazy. She said she told you everything, and you laughed in her face and told her to get the fuck out of there.

“You were in no place to bring a child into this world. Mack was so terrified after that night that she contemplated giving the baby up for adoption instead of keeping her.” Flashbacks of that night still haunt me. I take a deep breath and continue, “I got her out of there and got her home as quickly as we could. The moment she saw Cadence, the light came back into her eyes. Shit, she changed all of our lives for the absolute best.”

She’s everything, and instead of being the man I thought you were, you didn’t just push them away—you threw them away.

“Apparently, everyone but me—her father. Jesus Christ, I have a daughter,” he chokes out the words. “After everything we’d been through, did you think I didn’t deserve another chance to know?” he asks Mack.

Her dark expression tells me precisely how she feels about his remark. A twin look of confusion passes between the two of us. What does he mean he didn’t know?

“Can I see her?” he pleads.

“That wasn’t the only attempt I made to tell you about her. I called you on the night she was born,” Mack states, her voice trembling.

“When? If you called on the day she was born, I would have remembered. I got my shit together after that night in Boston. My dad came the next day, took one look at me, and I started therapy that same day. I haven’t touched drugs or drank in excess since that night.” His admission eases some of the aches in my chest. I should hate him for what he did to Mack and Cadence. I should hate him for not only throwing them away but also our lifelong friendship. But, fuck, I’ve missed him.

“I did tell you again. I called you from Carson’s phone on the night she was born, but like every other attempt, it went to voicemail. So I texted you and told you that I had a girl and to call me. I took one look at her beautiful face inside the incubator they had her in, and I knew I had to tell you at least she existed. That you had a daughter who was a perfect little fighter,” Mack tells him.

“Fuck. Goddammit,” he curses.

“What?” we both ask in unison.

“When was she born?”

“March 29th,” Mack says.

“As in right before the Frozen Four?” he questions.

“Yes, Griffin,” she growls out.

“McKenna, shit, I’m sorry. I can’t say for certain if I was in the right headspace to pick up the phone or not at that time, but I honestly didn’t have my phone anymore. I gave it up after that night in Boston when I started therapy. My agent, Jared, had it, and he hired a publicist to take over my social media accounts. I still haven’t been on social media in almost two years, which explains how I didn’t know until today that you even had a child.”

He could follow her on her socials all he wants, but it’s one of Mack’s top priorities to keep Cadence out of the media. A school reporter approached her last year, wanting to do a piece featuring Mack’s life as a mother and college athlete. She immediately refused, and I couldn’t agree more with her decision to make Cadence’s privacy a top priority. It’s become one of mine too.

“I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around everything. Why did you choose to disconnect your phone?” she asks.

“My therapist suggested blocking out things that triggered my anxiety and panic attacks I was having at the time. One major trigger for me was my old phone because of the photos on it and the social media memories that would come up. Every time I felt like I was coming up for a breath of air, a memory popped up on my phone, letting the grief resurface and pull me back under. So, I handed it over to Jared. He would tell me if anything major came up, but my dad, my coach, and my teammates all had my new number, so I didn’t really use it much. I disconnected my old number when I signed with Colorado after the Frozen Four. I didn’t think to check my messages with the chaos of moving.”

Is literally everyone seeing a therapist besides me at this point? I watch as they continue to ping pong questioning jabs back and forth.

“I’m sorry, but it’s hard for me to believe you when the timing came literally days after I called to tell you about her, Griffin.”

“And you don’t think I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that I just now found out I have a daughter?”

“If I have to try to be understanding of your situation, you need to try to put yourself in my shoes.”

Feeling like I’m interrupting a pivotal conversation, I quietly back out of the room and into the hallway, shutting the door behind me. I try to take a deep breath to ease some of the anxiety flooding me, but my chest is tight with fear and anger.

I’m shocked that Griffin didn’t remember his conversation with McKenna about her pregnancy. All this time, I was sure he pushed aside his responsibilities and chose to abandon them. I’m riddled with guilt, knowing I didn’t push Mack to reach out to him again, that I didn’t just force his hand. If I had, I know I wouldn’t have had to force him into anything.

The Griff I knew growing up was fiercely loyal and one of the most accountable guys I played hockey with. In my heart, I should’ve known he would never willingly abandon his child.

Fuck.

I rub at the tightness in my chest, willing it to subside when my phone buzzes with a text message notification.

Brooke:

Good game, All-Star. If you’re back in town, there’s a Halloween party at Kappa Delta on Tuesday night. Either way, convince your sister she needs to come. The team is dressing up as each of Taylor Swift’s eras.

Shaking my head at my sister’s friend and teammate’s antics, I reply.

Me:

Thanks, B. But there’s probably not a chance in hell she’ll go for that. We’ve got trick-or-treating to do with our Wonder Woman.

I smile at that. Halloween is one of my favorite holidays. I’ve always loved it. There’s something about fall that gets my blood buzzing. No, not something—everything. The way the leaves on the maple trees burn the brightest shades of scarlet, copper, and amber. The way the crisp Minnesota mornings make you reach for your favorite hoodie. And the fact that I’m the most basic of bitches and love every damn pumpkin-flavored thing should be the biggest sign that fall is my favorite time of the year.

I’ve made it my personal mission to ensure we go all out for my favorite holiday—I take dressing up for Halloween very seriously. Last year, Mack dressed as a lifeguard, and Cadence was a shark while I made a costume of a shark attack victim with a bloody bitten abdomen. It was epic. This year, Mack is Catwoman, I’m the Joker, and Cadence is Wonder Woman. I practically begged Dakota to join us as Harley Quinn, but she’s shot me down every time.

Speaking of Dakota, where in the hell did she go? I pull up her contact and shoot her a quick text.

Me:

You joining us for dinner?

My message quickly changes from delivered to read before the reply bubbles appear.

Austen:

I can’t. My brother is in town for his game, and we’re headed to dinner now. Good game, by the way! Nice goal . . . It is a goal, right?

Holy shit. I forgot the Mustangs were playing the Minnesota Voyagers tomorrow.

Me:

Thank you, Super Nanny. Yes, a goal, lol. I’m glad you were here for it. Where are you eating dinner?

Austen:

Nice try! I saw the heart eyes you have for my brother. I’m saving him from the awkward fangirl moment you’d have.

Ha! Of course, I’d fangirl over Brody Meyer. Who wouldn’t? The guy is a legend. But if she only knew the truth—the only heart eyes I have are for her.

Me:

I see how it is. It’s a low blow to deprive a man of meeting his idol and then bash him for a potential, totally appropriate, fangirl moment.

I wait a few minutes, but the text doesn’t change to read, and a reply from my dream girl doesn’t come. Because she’s married and she’s probably eating with not only her brother, but her husband.

A few minutes later, McKenna and Griffin exit the media room. Mack looks exhausted and like she’s about two minutes from withdrawing into herself. I already knew I wasn’t going to stay long at dinner tonight because I’ve got an early morning flight with the team to Dallas for a Monday night game. Now that I see the look on her face, I know the goal is to eat as quickly as possible so we can get her home.