Page 96 of The New Guy
“Tell me about when you were little. My papa had good stories about that. He was a little boy in Boston. That’s by New Hampshire. Where were you?”
“I was born here in New York, but I was too little to remember living here. Then we lived in Toronto. That’s in Canada. And then Denver, which is in Colorado. My papa was a hockey player, so he traveled a whole lot. My mom and I used to go on some of his trips. One time he took me skating on the river in Ottawa. You could skate for miles.”
She lifts her head and looks at me in the dark. “Really?”
“Really. It was cool.” Honestly, this babysitting gig isn’t so hard. I smooth the hair away from her forehead and let myself think about a winter day from over twenty years ago. “I’d never skated on a river before. There were lots of people out there. Like a party. Some men sold hot chocolate and waffles from carts at the edge.”
“Did you get to have both?”
“Yup. It was really cold out, and I was hungry. But you could skate right under the bridge, with cars going by right over your head.”
“Cool.”
I keep talking, telling her more about the sled dogs I saw on that same trip. And eventually she falls asleep again. Her small face looks peaceful, her dark lashes touching her cheeks.
When I glance at her sleeping face, I feel an unfamiliar sense of pride. Like I’ve done something important. Objectively, I know it wasn’t much—all I provided was some TV and takeout food. But comforting her is strangely satisfying.
Hockey is great, but I rarely end the day feeling like I made a difference for anyone other than me.
I close my eyes and listen to her soft breathing. The pillow smells like Gavin. And his words come back to me.There’s no other place you need to be right now.
Truly there’s not.
THIRTY-THREE
Gavin
It takesme a long time to get out of the rink tonight. We gave rapid flu tests to the whole team after the game, and luckily none of them came back positive.
But it’s after eleven when I climb out of a taxi and drag my tired ass up the stairs. When I let myself into the apartment, it’s dark and quiet. Reggie isn’t home yet. Hudson is not on the sofa, which means he must be asleep in my bed.
I don’t trust myself to go in there, though. He needs his rest. And if he looks at me a certain way, I might accidentally give him a get-well-soon blowjob.
But then I tiptoe into Jordyn’s room to give her a goodnight kiss…and find her bed empty. So I go looking for her in my room.
And the sight I find there makes my heart swell. Hudson is asleep on his back, on top of the covers. Jordyn has snuggled herself against his side, her skinny bottom tucked up against his hip, her feet pushed against his calf, her head pillowed on his biceps.
It’s so cute that I stop breathing. There’s a greedy place in my heart that craves having a family again. A man to come home to—someone my daughter trusts.
I push that thought away, and I carefully lift my sleeping daughter off the bed.
“Daddy,” she murmurs while I carry her into her own room.
“It’s late,” I whisper. “You feel okay?”
“Mm-hmm,” she says, and wraps her arms around me.
I tuck her in and kiss her on the forehead. She doesn’t feel feverish.
Then I brush my teeth and change into sleep shorts before returning to my bedroom. I sit down on the side of the bed and palm Hudson’s forehead. It’s also cool to the touch. So that’s progress.
His eyes flutter open. “Hi,” he says thickly.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”
He takes my hand and holds it. “S’no trouble. We had Italian food and watched the game. She made me tell her a story.”
My heart doubles in size. I lie down beside him and put a hand on his strong chest. “What’s your genre? Sports? Ghosts?”
