Page 20 of Sweet Thing

He blew out a breath. “I mean, in the sense of me fucking up with a married woman. The kid can’t help being born. What I’m trying to say is that this ismyproblem, and I don’t want other people feeling they need to fix it. No one else can fix it but me.”

My natural empathy rose to the fore.

“Yet good things can still come out of it. I know it’s hard to see that right now when your life has been tossed on its head like this. People want to help.”

“Yeah, I see that. And I’m grateful. Truly.” He shook his head. “I’m not used to accepting it, I suppose.”

“How come?”

He scoffed. “How long have you got?”

Forever.

He didn’t wait for my answer. “I’d best let you get on. Just don’t let your parents boss you around, okay?”

“Says the man who was ordered to take a nap by the Kershaw Sleep Police.”

He laughed, and wow, that sound wrapped me up in a Lars hug. The guy was dead on his feet yet that laugh gave me life.

With one last smile, he headed into the guest room and closed the door.

Lars

How hard could this be?

I could tell Theo and Elle were terrified at the thought of me taking on solo father duties. Hell, I was right there with them, but I couldn’t show it. I had to project calm, so I watched like a daddy hawk while my co-defenseman strapped the kid into the car seat. It didn’t look too difficult as long as you made sure the belt looped through the right holes. If only the rest were that easy.

I thrust my hand toward Theo, who looked at it like it was a foreign object.

“Jesus, NyQuil, you’re gonna need more than a handshake to get you through this.” He wrapped me in a hug and patted my back while I regarded Elle over his shoulder. Her brittle smile barely covered the cracks. She didn’t have much confidence in me, either.

“Thanks, Elle, for staying up to feed her and giving me the crash course in parenting. And for all the stuff.” The trunk was stuffed to the gills.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to come home with you?”

I waved it off, so blasé, like I learned I was a new dad every day. “I’ve got this. The agency will be sending over nanny prospects tomorrow, and hopefully one of them can start immediately.”

I was supposed to leave for an away game the day after, so I sure as hell needed childcare to be squared away by then. Which meant I would probably end up choosing the first nanny who didn’t radiate serial killer vibes.

My next moves felt weirdly robotic, the same as how I felt when Sven would watch every one of my motions on the ice in that first year of living with him. As a professional athlete I should’ve been used to multiple peepers on me. Coaches, players, fans, media. But this new pressure took me back to those early days learning how to play hockey under the critical eye of my father.

Pick up your toe.

Quit dragging your heel.

Not like that, you fucking idiot.

Are you sure you’re my kid?

Yeah, Sven had any number of “critiques” at the ready to spur me on to greatness. He labored under the weird misapprehension that a six-year-old would pick it up naturally purely because of genetics. I thought I’d moved on from that feeling, but here I was again, a bug under a glass, with everyone waiting for me to fail.

Open the door.

One more glance in the back at the kid to make sure she was locked in tight.

Maybe I should tug on the strap to check its tautness? But that would look like I didn’t trust Kershaw when he and Elle were the only reason I wasn’t completely falling apart.

Now or never. But before I could climb in, a strong voice called out, “Hold up! Wait!”

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