Page 52 of The Nanny Goal

“Youwere hella experienced,” she snaps, cutting me off. “And you forgot to tell me about apregnant girlfriend.”

“Ex,” I bite out. “Very much ex. I told you that.”

“I asked for clarification and you decided to dip instead.”

“I had to leave.”

She tips her head back, staring up at the ceiling of the arena high above us for a long, angst-filled beat. “I know.”

“Do you know?” My voice is tight and tense, and this isn’t the place for this conversation, but somehow, the door to it has swung open, and I’m taking the opportunity to set the record straight. “I swear, Emery, I didn’t know Tatyana was pregnant. Everything changed in that moment. I wanted to stay, but I couldn’t.”

She makes a face.

I take a deep breath. “I had to leave quickly that night because I didn’t know how long she would stay at the hospital.”

Emery sucks in a breath, her gaze jumping to meet mine. “What do you mean?”

I choose my words carefully. “I never speak badly of Inessa’s mother. Never. To anyone. This is another secret, yes? Between us?”

Her head bobs carefully. Yes.

“Tatyana thought she was an expert at getting my attention. And there is the most attention when one is being chased, you know? But I was tired of that game. I had to make it clear that I would be a father, but nothing else to her. And there were legal steps that had to be taken because she was a visitor here in Canada.”

“Was there a difficult custody fight?”

“No. She realized she didn’t want to be full-time parent. She stayed in Calgary for the first two months, but by the end of that period she wanted my parents to watch Inessa all the time. She signed over full custody without argument.”

Emery’s eyes soften beneath tight brows. “Does she ever see her daughter?”

“Last summer in the off-season, we went to France. I rented a villa where everyone had their own spaces. She brought her new boyfriend, and they didn’t stay very long. She made noises about coming here for Christmas, but their lives are in Europe. Calgary doesn’t really compare well to Monaco. And then I was traded and the plans fell apart, because Hamilton… Even less so, apparently. I hope that when Inessa is older…”

I trail off.

It’s hard to say out loud what I hope for, when I’m not sure it’ll ever happen.

“Of course.” She takes a deep breath and whacks her stick against my pads. “We should practice. What kind of shots do you want?”

“Up high first? Then down low.”

“You got it.”

She twists, my jersey riding up on her hips as her strong little thighs power her away from me.

My name and number plastered above that tight, round ass…I wish we had a photographer on the ice right now, because I’d take a banner of that view for my bedroom.

Mine. All fucking mine.

I shake my head, testing my helmet and refocusing myself on the task at hand.

I settle into my stance in front of the net, and Emery starts skating a predictable pattern, warming me up with easy shots to my glove on one side, then my blocker on the other.

She skates so much like her brothers that I find myself anticipating her moves, coming out of the crease a bit more. But she’s not exactly like her brothers—and she makes that crystal clear when she snaps her next shot high, bar down, and the puck tumbles into the net behind me.

“Look alive,” she taunts.

“So we’re done with the soft warm up shots?” I smack my glove against my blocker. “Bring it on, Buzz.”

She gasps. “Is that how it is,Arty?”

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