Page 6 of Hot Puck
“Is this what you want, baby girl?”
I’ve had little experience with babies this small, enough to know how to hold them and to check the temperature of formula before sticking a nipple in a little one’s mouth. It takes a bit of juggling, but I manage to check the warmth of the milk then offer it to the now quiet baby.
Candace.
The baby’s name is Candace.
The older two girls are Cassidy and Crystal.
I need to remember that. Use their names when I think about or speak to them.
And I assume the man upstairs is Chase. In his panic to be ready for a call while getting Candace changed and fed, and finding me on his doorstep, neither of us introduced ourselves.
Moving over to the sofa, I lower myself to the soft-as-it-looks-cushion without jostling Candace.
Although I needn’t have worried. Her little mouth is latched onto the nipple and is not letting go. She’s already sucked down a good amount in the minute or so she’s been drinking, and I hope it fills her belly long enough for Chase to return.
Because I have no idea if this little one is only on formula or if she needs solid food as well. She’s not quite five months and my knowledge of babies doesn’t stretch to when they start eating solid food. Does she have teeth?
No. Drew is seven months and only just teething.
Looking around, I don’t see a highchair and breathe a sigh of relief. If Chase isn’t back, I don’t want to have to search out anything that might tell me what to do once she finishes her bottle.
With Candace content for the moment, I let my gaze roam the room and take note of all the pictures on the walls. Family photos from years gone by right up to the newest one, a group shot of the whole family, probably taken within hours of Candace being born.
My stomach clenches.
Taking this family from their home is going to be difficult.
Despite the circumstances, I believe Chase deserves a chance to play in the NHL. And if anyone can give him a chance to shine on the ice, it’s the Rogues.
We’re built for families. It’s part of our mission statement. To support every player and employee of the Rogues organization in and out of their job.
We built Rogue sportswear the same way and the two companies are closely entwined, especially now we’ve constructed our newest sportswear manufacturing plant in Baton Rouge.
The hollow sound of air being sucked from a container snaps me out of my thoughts and focuses my attention back on Candace.
“Wow. No wonder you were screaming your lungs out. You were starving.”
Removing the bottle from her mouth, I tuck it between my knees then lift her to my shoulder. I might not have had much to do with babies this small, but I know you’re supposed to burp them after they finish a bottle.
I get a good loud, body-jolting burb followed by two smaller ones and I pull her away from my chest, a smile on my face, but I almost drop her when from behind me a booming voice yells, “Fuck!”
Chase
I have my pants up over my hips and I’m tugging a shirt over my head when it dawns on me what I just did.
“Fuck.I left my baby sister downstairs with a fucking stranger.”
Yanking the shirt down off my face, I sprint from my room. I have to grip the side of my jeans to keep them from falling off. I don’t have time to button and zip. I need to get to Candace.
There’s no noise filtering up the stairs. No baby gurgles or whispered words or squeak of baby toys. And every worst-case scenario from Candace being dead on the floor to she’s not even in the house flashes through my head as I beeline for the lower floor.
I’m not even sure my feet touch the steps as I take them two and three at a time.
The front door is closed, the foyer empty. The living room shows no sign of life—or death. And my heart is lodged in my throat, the thing beating a million miles a minute as I tear through the house in search of my sister, and the woman I handed her to.
My chest and gut clench painfully.
