Page 30 of Whiskey Wednesdays

“You’re not my dad, although you might be old enough. It’ll be fine.”

“I’m not old enough to be your fucking dad.” He sounded annoyed.

“Another five bucks,” Elodie giggled.

“Shit,” Connor mumbled.

I smiled. “You might want to be quiet for a while.”

He slid me a frustrated look but kept his mouth shut.

The arena was bigger than I expected for a feeder team, and the new facilities were state-of-the-art. When Connor gave me a tour, I found out he had an office at the arena where he worked as the temporary CEO, until he and his partners found a permanent one.

When we got to the floor of the arena, I spun slowly around taking in the entire area. “How many seats are there?”

He watched me. “It can only hold a little over eleven thousand fans, so it’s not that big.”

Somehow I’d forgotten he was one of the owners. Elodie started climbing up the stairs, counting the steps.

“Do you miss playing?”

He looked up at the scoreboard. “Yeah, but it was time.”

“What do you miss the most?”

“Doing something I was fucking great at and I loved doing. And my teammates.”

I started feeling a little sorry for him.

Then Connor smirked. “Also the money and women.”

My sympathy died a quick death. “You’re a walking cliché.”

“I’m teasing. I wanted to see that annoyed, self-righteous look on your face again.”

“You’re an ass sometimes, you know that right? How many years did you play?”

“I was eighteen when I got drafted. Before that, I played in a junior hockey league in Canada. Most players do. I’ve played pretty much my whole life.”

“Why’d you quit?”

“Injuries.” He gazed at me. “ And Elodie.”

“There are a lot of professional athletes who have kids.”

“True. But her mother isn’t capable of taking care of her.”

My heart lurched a little. “Elodie told me her mom is broken.” I held up my hand before he could speak. “I didn’t ask her any questions. She said Mémé has a broken leg and is old as dirt, and her mom is sad and mad. That’s it.”

Connor’s lips curved, but his eyes looked bleak. “Her Mémé is her great-grandmother. And she has a broken hip. She’s also the only reason Elodie isn’t fucked up.”

I touched his arm. “I’m asking in case there’s something my dad and I need to know.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “Her mother’s name is Amelia. She’s also from Vancouver, and we grew up in the same neighborhood.”

Elodie started up the next set of stairs, still counting out loud. I noticed she got to fourteen and started over again. We’d have to work on that.

I glanced at Connor. “How is Amelia broken?”

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