Page 51 of Like A Daydream
Andrew grins, ruffles her hair, and takes a bite of ice cream, watching Harper as she finishes hers. His heart is doing something weird in his chest. It’s softer, mushy even, and he thinks that he might not just like Danielle, he might like Harper too.
She’s brave, and smart, and so easy to love that he can practically pretend she’s his own. He can imagine both she and Danielle fitting into his life seamlessly, and he wants that. Desperately.
He never thought that he’d want to be a dad, had always assumed that his life would be hockey until he was near forty and ready to retire. Then, if he felt the pull to, he could settle down with someone, no matter how hard it might be to find a girl that would want him as he was.
It’s been something he’d been insecure about, but coped with, in his own way. He’d always been too busy, especially once he’d gone to the NHL, to even consider something permanent.
And yet, here he was, kid sitting in his lap, and making him dream something that had never been a possibility in his mind. Something he rarely let cross it to begin with, especially with his past dating history.
“You’ll have to make sure you tell her that.”
“I will,” she says with a shrug, and with that, the conversation is closed and Andrew tries to wipe more of the blue-goo sticky mess off of her hands before helping her into his truck.
Danielle
“The hell is Andrew Fisher doing here?” a customer asks, spotting Andrew from the door. He’s got a bit of an accent and is wearing his sunglasses indoors, when it’s not bright in the store to begin with, and it’s cloudy outside despite the warm weather.
Danielle immediately moves to head him off, but the customer is too quick. He’s tapping Andrew’s shoulder before Danielle can even get across the sales floor.
Andrew turns, soft smile on his face, expecting someone else, only to be met with an irate customer in board shorts and a cut-off American flag t-shirt, ready to settle a score.
Andrew’s eyes dart around the room, landing on Danielle as he backs a step away and she moves toward him, digging her phone out of her pocket to call the police if necessary. It’s not often that she sends customers away, but this guy is clearly a tourist and about to heckle Andy.
Danielle is not about to sit by and let that happen. She wants to be prepared, and the way Andrew backs up another step, his quiet confidence evaporating from his frame, she thinks calling the police for support might not be the worst idea if the guy won’t leave.
Andrew backs up another step, away from the man in front of him as he speaks in a low, angry, tone of voice, trapping Andrew in a corner between the wall and a shelf. Andrew looks like a caged animal.
Danielle reaches him just as the guy says ‘I hope you get traded, useless sack of shit,’ and steps away, opening his mouth to say something else.
“Is everything okay, over here?” she cuts in.
Andrew’s eyes fly to her, a mix of relief and fear as they land on her face. He releases a shuddering breath, slipping out from where the guy has him cornered.
“Are you okay?” she asks. Andrew just swallows, doubling over, hands on his knees, as his breath comes quicker and shallower.
That’s a no.
She rests a hand on his back, putting pressure on him so that he knows she’s got it handled. He looks up at her, eyes red and glassy, and then he stands to his full height and disappears around a shelf.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” she says, turning to the customer and folding her arms over her chest.
“For what?” the guy asks. He’s an overly-confident jock-type, with dried mustard on his chin.
Danielle fights to keep her tone even and professional, but she’s about to boil over in rage. “I cannot allow customers to heckle my employees.”
“That dick is an employee?” the customer asks, eyes sparkling with glee, “the NHL really did kick his ass to the curb, didn’t they?”
“No, it was “fans” like you!” she says, using air quotes around ‘fans’. “And I use that term loosely. You realize that he’s a person, right?”
“He’s not a person, he’s a player,” the guy says, folding his arms over his chest, “and he screwed up. Bad.”
“And he’s been hearing it for over a month!” Danielle says, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You don’t have the right to come into a place of business and harass him.”
“Listen, lady,” the guy says, taking a step towards her, “he missed the shot, not me. He’ll be lucky if he can even make it in Calgary after a mess like that.”
“Calgary made the playoffs this year, dumbass,” she shoots back, realizing that she was being really unprofessional, but sick of his attitude. “That player you just berated is a human, even though you idolize him in a way that’s completely toxic and uncalled for!”
Even though she should be afraid of this guy in front of her, she’s not. She knows she can handle it, though he’s slightly larger and definitely weighs more than her. He opens his mouth to reply, but she’s faster.
