Page 110 of Play Dirty

The weird thing is, Brenna didn’t look particularly thrilled that she won, her face completely devoid of emotion. Philippe wasn’t with her because he had a game back in Nashville, so it was weird to me. I thought sure she would be willing to take some sort of payout, but she didn’t seem interested, and now it’s over. I’m officially divorced, but I’m relegated to seeing my kids a few weeks in the summer and occasional holidays.

I don’t know how the hell I’m going to deal with that.

One option, of course, is getting traded to the team in Tennessee.

That means dealing with Phil every fucking day, and I don’t know that I can keep it civil. Even for my kids.

But then if he gets traded again, I have to follow him or lose proximity to my kids anyway. There are no guarantees in pro sports, and at this stage of my career, I don’t know how much bargaining power I have. I’m still a decent player, but I’m turning thirty-three soon, so my hockey days could be numbered.

I’ve just pulled up to the house after practice and see an unfamiliar car in the driveway.

My heart sinks.

I know it’s Brenna.

She said she would bring the kids by to say hello after practice today but I thought she’d call first. Now I have to put on a happy face so the kids don’t see how pissed off I am at the world.

“Daddy!” Martin is out of the car and running to me the minute I get out of my SUV.

“Hey, buddy.” I scoop him up and hug him tightly, breathing in his scent, letting the warmth of his body envelop me.

“Mommy said we’re having lunch here!”

“Yup.” I nod stiffly.

Brenna gets out of her rental with Bradley in her arms and he immediately starts leaning away from her, reaching for me.

Fuck, this is hard.

I put Martin down and take the baby from Brenna without looking at her. “Hey, baby boy. Did you miss me?”

“Burble okey-okay.”

“I know.” I nod like I have even an inkling of understanding.

“Daddy!” Emma comes running to me next, wrapping her arms around my leg.

“You were supposed to call,” I mutter to Brenna.

“I know.” She looks genuinely apologetic. “But I didn’t realize you’d changed the locks.”

“It was time.”

We go into the house and I put Bradley down, trying to figure out what I’m going to feed them. The food currently in the house is geared toward my nutritional needs and not for three kids. I’d been planning to place an order if I won yesterday. Since I didn’t, there seemed to be no point.

“I can make them grilled cheese if you have bread,” Brenna offers.

“Fine.” I don’t have it in me to argue with her.

She goes to work like she still lives here, pulling out a frying pan, bread, cheese, and butter.

“You want one?” she asks me.

“No thanks.”

Martin disappears and I hear his footsteps on the stairs, most likely heading for his room.

I put Bradley in his highchair and find some Cheerios for him to munch on while Brenna makes lunch. Then I sink into a chair with Emma on my lap, trying to keep my temper in check. I want to rage at Brenna, scream and yell and tell her what a selfish bitch she is. I can’t do it in front of the kids, but I really want to.

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