Page 37 of One Last Shot

“Maybe you can call one of them back,” he says, his voice lower and colder than before, “since this is clearly not going to work.”

She walks past me and practically elbows her way past Aleksandr where he stands in the doorway. He turns to follow her into the hall and I hear his low words, in Russian, as he tells her he’s calling the placement agency to tell them about her threats.

I rush across the room to Stella, where I scoop her up into my arms. “Okay,Zaichik,” I say, the nickname from my childhood slipping out from nowhere. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

We head toward the bathroom and get her face washed off. Her eyes are so red and swollen she can hardly open them, but she looks at me so earnestly after drying her face and says, “Thank you, Petra. I was so scared I’d be trapped with her.”

“No way,” I tell her. “YourDyadyaloves you too much to ever let someone like her crush your spirit.”

I don’t know the first thing about raising a kid, but I know I could do a better job than that dictator Aleksandr tried to hire. All Stella needs is a little love, someone in her corner who’s got her back no matter what. That doesn’t seem like so much to ask.

I turn to head back into Stella’s bedroom and almost jump out of my skin when I see Aleksandr standing there.

“I’m leaving for my first playoff game on Tuesday, and I have no one to stay with Stella.” I can tell by his voice that he thinks this is my fault, even though he’s the one who fired her. “Now what?”

“I don’t know,” I tell him, and I can feel myself frowning. He is stuck between a rock and a hard place, and even though I would do it all again, it does feel like I’m the one who put him in this position.

He lowers his voice and switches to Russian. “The guardianship agreement is clear that I’ll have one person to stay with Stella when I have to travel for work. The consistency is key for a child in her situation. I can’t just not show up to work. I have a contract. And I’m at the end of it, so if I don’t play in the playoffs, I can kiss my career goodbye.”

“I ...” I stutter. I guess I didn’t really think about the position I was putting him in, I only thought about what was best for Stella and I knew that witch Irina was not it. Even I would have been better than Irina. But I have a job, and a life, that I need to get back to.

Two thoughts war with each other in my head:Someone needs to be here to protect Stella, to help her become strong and resilient.AndI don’t even like children.

I do the mental math—what I gain and what I have to give up. The give up column is far longer, including seeing my best friend who I haven’t seen in a couple months, the last day of ski season, catching up with my team at work, and being there in person for two upcoming events. What do I gain? Personally, nothing. But Stella will be safe and well cared for, and somehow that matters more than everything I lose out on.

“I could probably help you out for a week or two, just until you figure out a new childcare arrangement.”

CHAPTER11

ALEKSANDR

“You were looking a little slow out there today, old man,” Owen Ramirez says as he jumps up from the locker room bench like the nimble little fucker he is.

“Go to hell, Ramirez.”

“Dude, you’re the captain. You gotta build me up, not tear me down.”

“Your ego needs a readjustment,” I say as I turn to walk out of the locker room. He follows me into the hallway. “You’re never going to get more playing time if you’re not more serious.”

“I was a second-round draft pick,” he says, his chest puffing out like a rooster who’s damned pleased with himself.

“And how much have you played this year?”

He falls into step next to me as he considers the question we both know the answer to. His voice is substantially lower when he says, “Coach doesn’t like me.”

“No one likes a player with an ego they can’t back up. You want to play, you’d better bring it. Stop relying on your college career as evidence of your ability. That got you here, but it sure as shit won’t keep you in the NHL.”

“So what do I do?”

Ah, the real reason we’re having this conversation. In my “old age” I’ve become the team psychologist, the one the younger guys come to with all their problems. Either that, or it’s because of the big “C” I wear on my jersey.

“Same thing I told you on day one. Start by taking a lesson in humility.” We walk a few more steps and he doesn’t say anything, so I remind him, “Who you were before you got here, what you did, it doesn’t matter. It only matters how hard you work now. So work harder.”

“Not everyone can be as focused as you are one hundred percent of the time,” Ramirez says as we push open the doors to the parking lot.

“Yes, they can. It’s a choice. Notice how I go home after practices and games, not out chasing skirts?”

“But, dude, the girls,” he says the word on a long exhale. “When else in my life am I going to have chicks all over me, chasing me down like this? I gotta take advantage of that while I can!”

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