Page 60 of Pucking Fate

But the summer isn’t just about me and Finley. It’s about Maya, too. It’s about showing her that I’m here to stay, that I can be the father Finley deserves and be the man she needs. One day, the boyfriend or husband she deserves.

I have to make this work. I have to make her see that I’m ready for the life we should’ve had all along. The life I want now more than anything, even hockey.

For once, my own father’s words start to make sense to me.

He always told me that there’s more to life than chasing a puck with a stick. I think this, having a family, is what he meant in his own grumpy way. We were that perfect family, until my mom died, my father shut down, and I lost myself in girls and hockey to escape the sadness.

Finley and I order our ice cream—chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry scoops for Finley, vanilla for me—and then we sit on a bench, watching the other kids play. Finley chatters away, telling me about his favorite games and the friends he’s made at preschool who will be in his kindergarten class. I listen carefully, hanging on to every word like it’s the most important thing I’ve ever heard.

“When do you think we can do this again?” he asks, licking his dripping cone. “Like, go to the park and stuff when you go back to where you live? Do they have parks in Greensboro?”

“There are tons of awesome parks in Greensboro,” I assure him. “And I’m not sure when,” I tell him honestly. “But as soon as we can, we’ll visit them all.”

My son grins, his face smeared with chocolate ice cream, making me laugh. I reach over to wipe it away with a napkin. He looks so happy, so carefree, and it hits me again just how much of his life that I’ve missed.

But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.

Well, I am, but it’s not for good.

Hockey may no longer be my priority, but it’s the only way I can earn a living to make sure Finley and Maya have everything they could ever need.

As we finish our ice cream, I start thinking about Maya again, about how I need to talk to her, to show her that I’m serious about being hers in every way. I’ve been trying, but I need to do more. I need to confront her fears and her insecurities and prove to her that I’m not the same guy who left her twice. I’m not going to run this time. I’m not going to hurt her ever again.

Once Finley is full, he trashes his leftover cone and runs off to play on the swings again. I pull out my phone, staring at Maya’s number for a long moment. I want to call her to tell her how much today has meant to me and how much Finley means to me. But I know it’s more than just words. She needs to see it, to believe it.

After a while, Finley comes back, tired but happy, and we start walking back toward my new SUV. He’s holding my hand in his sticky one, swinging it back and forth, and the simple act makes my heart ache in the best way.

“Dad?” Finley says again, and I still can’t get used to hearing it. I don’t think I ever will.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Can Mommy come with us to the parks where you live?”

I smile down at him, ruffling his hair. “Of course she can. I think she’ll love them too.”

Finley grins, and we climb into the car. I fasten him into the booster seat I bought just in case, right after I purchased the SUV, then drive us back toward Maya’s.

When we get to the house, Finley runs ahead, opening the front door and barging inside. I stand there on the porch with my hands in my pockets, trying to steady my breathing.

“Hey, sweetie! How was the park?” I hear Maya ask him.

“So much fun! Me and Dad got a big ice cream cone too!”

I wince at how fast he sold me out to her. Of course, it’s my own fault for caving. Besides, he called me dad again.

“Really? Ice cream? Before lunch?” Maya mutters.

“I’ll still eat all my lunch, promise!” he assures her, then, “Uncle Preston, you want to play the hockey game?”

“Heck yes,” Preston’s deep voice agrees. “I bet Elle wants to play, too.”

I’m so lost in eavesdropping that I startle when Maya appears in the doorway. “Are you going to come in or just stand out there all day?” she asks.

“Hey, yeah, I’ll come in,” I say, my voice a little rougher than I intended. “We had a good time.”

“Sounds like it,” she replies. “Ice cream this early, though? Really, Christian?”

“He called me dad,” I tell her in explanation.

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