Page 58 of Hot Damn
For us and the league.
And we’re ready.
Excitement, determination, and confidence pump through all of us, and I know being away from home won’t change the way we play.
Because we aren’t about home turf. Our home turf is the team, the guys, the coaches, the equipment staff, the trainers. As long as we’re together, we’re home.
Tossing my bag in the back, I hop up into the driver’s seat andcrank the engine. Hot air blasts through the vents and I quickly hit the buttons for all the windows hoping to rid the interior of the suffocating heat faster.
A glance at the clock has me swearing under my breath. I was supposed to pick up Whit five minutes ago.
Since the incident with her tires and finding out the culprit was none other than Kenneth Dupre, the reporter who knocked on my door the day after, I’ve been taking her to and from school when I can and someone from the Rogues does it when I can’t.
Usually Cami does it. But Chase has done it a few times when he’s picked up his sisters, even the Rogues GM picked up Whit and the twins one day and brought them to the practice rink when a video viewing session ran long.
They told me to embrace the Rogues family, and I have, but it’s more the other way around. The other players’ partners have helped out. Front office staff, even the arena staff have pitched in. And it’s not just me they’re helping. I saw a cleaning staff member walking Chase’s baby sister up and down the corridor the other day. Everyone pulls together when someone needs a hand.
It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever been part of and I’m happier than I ever remember being.
And Whit is blossoming.
Watching her grow is one of my greatest joys and she’s doing it in leaps and bounds here.
Maybe it’s her age, but I think a lot of it is the people we’re surrounded by. They’re the family I could never give her on my own.
A family of cousins, aunts, and uncles. Hell, even Pa, Oakley’s grandfather, has taken on the role of grandfather to all. Child or adult, it doesn’t matter, and he’s in his element doing it.
It’s bittersweet.
On one hand I’m thrilled Whit has this now. On the other I’m sad I hadn’t found this for her before.
The Bluetooth in my car sparks to life scaring the shit out of me. A look at the screen has my heart lurching into my throat.
Hitting the button on the steering wheel to connect the call, I demand, “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“Whitney is fine. Cami Nelson is here with her.”
“Why is Cami there?”
“Ms. Nelson was talking to the tenth graders about journalism. We’re having a few people from various occupations coming in throughout the year talking to the sophomores in preparation for choosing subjects for future careers,” Mr. Dalton explains.
“That doesn’t explain your call.”
A sigh fills the space around me. “When Ms. Nelson left this afternoon, Whitney was with her, thankfully, because a reporter was waiting outside and tried to speak to your daughter. Unfortunately, he was a little aggressive and when Whitney stepped back, she bumped into Ms. Nelson, who was moving to intervene, causing her to miss the top step and tumble down them.”
“Fuck! I’m on my way.” Shoving the truck in reverse, I squeal out of my spot then slam the gear stick into drive while pressing down on the accelerator. Screeching tires and a revving engine accompanying me out of the parking lot. “Is Cami okay?”
“Yes. The EMTs are looking her over now but I believe she’s come away with only a few bruises.”
“And the reporter?”
“Ah, well, he didn’t stick around after Ms. Nelson fell.”
“Did you call the police?”
“Of course. They’re here now. Talking to witnesses.”
“I’m ten minutes away but I’d like to talk to the police when I get there—can you make sure they don’t leave before I arrive, please?” How I remember that small piece of my manners when my heart is racing faster than my car I haven’t a clue.
