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  I shift my body so I can pull her more against me, cradling her with one arm around her waist and moving her head to my chest. She wraps her arm around my stomach and it’s our first really tender moment.

  “Do you think I should deny him visitation?” she asks.

  I’m flattered she wants my opinion.

  I’m terrified at the same time.

  This goes beyond complications.

  But I am invested, and I actually do have an opinion. “I think if you can safely allow it, you should let Felicity see her dad. Because he’s her dad and she needs the opportunity to have that relationship. You’ll just have to prepare her for failure.”

  Emory jerks slightly and then lifts her head, looking at me as if I have warts all over my face. “How did you get so wise about the ways of familial relationships that are complicated by drug usage? And for that matter, how are you so attuned to what a child needs?”

  “So I’m right about what I suggested?” I ask hesitantly because I have no clue if what I said was legit.

  Emory shrugs. “Hell if I know. I just know I’m thinking along the same lines. She loves her dad. She remembers him. She misses him. I have to give them a chance. But I also need to be transparent with her and let her know he might fail expectations. I just don’t know how to have that conversation with a seven-year-old.”

  “Nora,” I say, a light bulb going off in my head.

  “Nora?” she asks, confusion not diminishing the beauty of her face at all.

  “Tacker’s wife. She’s a therapist. Why don’t you talk to her about it?”

  Emory frowns. “You think she’d mind? I’d pay, of course.”

  “I know she wouldn’t mind,” I assure her. “In fact, she does equine therapy. Maybe we can head out to her ranch and let Felicity ride horses and you can talk to her. I’ll call Tacker to set it up with Nora.”

  It shouldn’t affect me as much as it does, but the sheer relief washing across Emory’s features right now makes me feel like I just conquered the world. I gave her something that has not a damn thing to do with orgasms or having fun.

  I supported her, gave her advice, and at the time, inherently made clear that I’m by her side on this.

  Shifting up a bit, she puts her hand on my chest and leans in to kiss me. It’s just a graze of her lips over mine.

  A gratitude is all.

  It might be the best kiss I’ve had with her.

  “Thank you,” she whispers. “For helping me uncomplicate things, even if just for tonight.”

  “You’re welcome,” I reply, and I kiss her this time. She sighs into my mouth and once again, it feels fucking fantastic to be there for her.

  I know I could get used to this feeling.

  CHAPTER 16

  Jett

  I knock on Emory’s office door, having once again charmed my way past the receptionist.

  It’s slightly open so her voice is clear when she says, “Come in.”

  Her head raises when I push the door open, and I’m relieved by the transformation on her face. Lines of intense concentration furrowing her forehead smooth out to pave the way to a brilliant smile. “Hey, you,” she says in surprise, standing up from her chair. “What are you doing here?”

  I hold up the bag of food, containing her favorite poke bowl and one for me too. “I was hoping to wrangle an early lunch with you before I start game prep.”

  Tonight is a home game against the Pittsburgh Titans and even though the puck won’t drop until 7 PM, most players spend a good chunk of game day at the arena. There will be a team meeting at some point, and food is provided—usually a buffet that’s continually replenished—that’s protein and carb loaded. Many players slowly warm up on bikes or do a light workout; some get massages or therapy. And then others just hang out with their teammates. Socializing, relaxing, laughing—deepening bonds. This is often done in the player’s lounge replete with large screen TV’s, plush couches, and snacks. It’s where I’ll head to kick back for a bit after I eat with Emory.

  “Ordinarily I’d say I couldn’t say no to a poke bowl,” Emory drawls with an impish smile as she walks around her desk toward me. “But these days, I don’t think I can say no to you.”

  And to my surprise—and fucking delight—she moves right into me and tips her head back, lips slightly parted.

  Door to her office wide open, she’s invited me to kiss her, and I’m not going to pass up that opportunity.

  Bag of food in one hand, my other goes around her waist and I pull her into me hard. I love the tiny gasp out of her mouth, eyes flared slightly before my mouth crashes down on hers.

  Both of Emory’s arms go around my neck, and she returns the kiss like there’s no tomorrow.

  I suppose it would have gone on and on, shortening the amount of time I’d have with her to eat, but we jolt apart when a voice sounds at the door—Dominik Carlson’s voice to be exact. “You should either get a room or at least close the office door if you’re going to kiss like that.”

  Emory’s face flushes beet red but I don’t have an ounce of shame. That was a fucking awesome kiss.

  I can tell Dominik is totally teasing by the grin on his face, but Emory doesn’t know him the way I do. She starts stammering first apologies he had to witness such an unprofessional display of behavior, and next, that she got involved with a player.

  “Relax,” Dominik says raising a hand to quiet her. “You’ve done nothing wrong, and I was just teasing. Totally didn’t know you two were seeing each other, but I wouldn’t mind seeing this guy settle down. He’s ready for it.”

  Okay, that makes me flush a little. Dominik not only having called me out as a player, but that he thinks I have the potential to commit to someone, which means he might know me better than I know myself. I’d been suspecting as much, but to hear him so confidently say I’m ready actually carries weight.

  Before either of us can reply, Dominik disappears out the door.

  I bring my gaze to Emory’s, who stares at me like a deer caught in the headlights for a moment, before she lets out a huge snort followed by a deep belly laugh. “That scared the shit out of me.”

  “You’re cute,” I reply and loop my arm around her neck to pull her in. This time, I only kiss her forehead before releasing her. “Let’s eat as I don’t have much time.”

  After she clears some space, we get settled in on opposite sides of her desk. I pull out the poke bowls but before we dig in, I tell her, “I talked to Tacker this morning and he talked to Nora. She’d be glad to talk to you to give you some general advice on how to handle Shane’s re-entry into your lives.”

  “You mean Felicity’s life,” she corrects me, using her chopsticks to stir all the ingredients in her bowl.

  “If he’s in Felicity’s life, he’s in your life too,” I point out, and I’m impressed with how sage my advice sounds despite me not having an ounce of experience in these types of family matters, or even in personal, romantic relationships.

  She nods in understanding. “I hear you. And thank you… I’ll call Nora after we finish eating because I talked to my lawyer today and her advice is imminently needed.”

  I’m not sure if it’s my business what her lawyer said. I feel like it possibly is since Emory brought me into the knowledge of her past, and she brought it up just now, but I don’t want to assume things.

  Yet I can’t help but ask. “Good news or bad news?”

  Emory shrugs, dips her chopsticks expertly into the mishmash of rice, salmon, and veggies, and pulls up a large bite. I suck at chopsticks and use the plastic fork provided. “I guess it depends on perspective,” she says thoughtfully. “Basically, my lawyer said I can fight Shane on visitation. It will be a long, costly battle, and ultimately, the courts are going to give him some type of rights if he’s sober. Probably supervised like we had before.”

  I don’t say anything, just take a thoughtful bite and wonder what I’d do in her place.

  She takes a sip of water from a bo
ttle on her desk. “My lawyer’s advice is to not fight him since the end result is most likely not winnable and would only delay the inevitable—meaning he’d get some rights. On the flip side, if I dragged it out, given his track record, chances are he’d relapse before the case was even decided.”

  We’re silent for a few bites, and I can tell she’s pondering everything she just told me, which means she’s not made a decision.

  “What do you think I should do?” she finally asks.

  I shrug, pushing my bowl away because eating while talking about something this serious seems incongruous. “There’s no right answer, Emory. Only the one you think is best for you and Felicity.”

  The smile she bestows upon me says it was exactly the right thing to say.

  She jabs her chopsticks down into her bowl but doesn’t pull up. Rather just jabs, and jabs, and jabs as she forms her words. When her eyes come to me, she says, “You told me last night that I should give Felicity the opportunity to see her dad, and that really stuck with me. Because it’s not about Shane’s rights or what’s fair to him. It’s what’s best for Felicity, and I think you’re right… she has to be given the chance. I can’t decide for her whether or not she should have a relationship with her dad.”

  Now that is actually the right answer, I realize. Nothing matters except what’s best for Felicity.

  Fuck she’s an awesome mom, and I know a thing or two about great moms since I have one.

  “I think your daughter is very lucky to have you,” I say, my gaze dropping back down to my bowl as I pull it toward me.

  “Jett,” Emory says softly, and it’s the gentleness of her tone that has my head snapping up to look at her. “Thank you for saying that. Being a parent is all about second-guessing yourself.”

  She’s being very serious, and I’m greatly touched that I touched her. But it also freaks me out just a bit, because it’s a lot of responsibility to have that power over someone.

  I play it off, giving a nonchalant wave of my hand. “Hey… I’m just trying to butter you up to get back in your pants soon.”

  Emory laughs and her eyes turn mischievous. “We could lock my office door and go at it real quick?”

  And now I’m overly interested in where this conversation is going. “Really?” I ask, a mixture of shock and hopefulness.

  Emory rolls her eyes at me. “No, not really. Dominik might have given his blessing on our inter-organizational relationship, but we are not having sex in my office.”

  I press my lips into a smug smirk. “Maybe not now, but one day I’ll have you on that desk.”

  “In your dreams,” she chortles.

  We go back to eating. I’m clearly not getting a little office sex before the game, but it’s all good. I let her bounce ideas off me on how the visitation would work. Emory has all the power right now, so it’s whatever she wants.

  “I’ll talk to Felicity tonight,” she says, pushing her bowl away even though she’s only eaten about half of it. “I’m sorry… I’m not going to be able to meet you tonight after the game,” she says with an apologetic wince.

  They were tentative plans we’d made as I was leaving her house last night. I invited her to come hang with us at Erik’s house after the game. It’s a special night since Baden is coming to the game with his best friend, Wes Hollyfield, who played for the Pittsburgh Titans. They started their professional hockey careers together with the Buffalo Wolves before they were both traded to other teams. They’ve remained best friends and Wes has come to Phoenix several times to visit Baden through his recovery. Erik offered up his house for the team to get together and hang with Baden outside of a hospital setting, while also giving him some time to hang with Wes before the Titan’s team plane departs the following morning.

  “It’s more important you handle this with Felicity,” I assure her, knowing there will be plenty of other opportunities to hang together.

  As a couple.

  In front of the team.

  Because if she had come to Erik’s tonight as we had tentatively planned, it would have been as a couple.

  We’d have made the statement tonight that we are together, although some of my linemates suspect as much.

  “Is it too forward of me,” Emory says, and I jerk out of my thoughts to look at her. Her expression is playful, and dare I say, a little naughty. “To ask if we can set up a night I can come stay at your place? It’s been far too long.”

  “It’s been four days,” I point out.

  Actually, four days, six hours, and roughly thirty minutes but who’s counting.

  “Tomorrow night?” I offer. “Since we don’t have a game, we could cook dinner at my place?”

  Emory smiles, but it doesn’t fully reach her eyes. “It depends on when I have Shane over to see Felicity. If it’s tomorrow night—”

  “Of course,” I interject. “That’s more important.”

  This exasperates Emory and she shakes her head. “No, I’ll still come over tomorrow night, but if Shane comes over, it might be a late dinner. I’ll come as soon as he leaves and Felicity goes to bed.”

  “Then it’s a date,” I say, dipping my fork back into my bowl. I intend to eat the rest of my lunch as my stomach is far bigger than Emory’s.

  “It’s a date,” she agrees, leaning back in her chair and watching me.

  Her eyes on me aren’t intrusive in the slightest.

  CHAPTER 17

  Jett

  It’s been too long since we’ve hung out like this.

  Just the players.

  With half the guys on the team having significant others, meaning they are more prone to go home to their women, it’s often just us single dudes. While The Sneaky Saguaro is the “unofficial” team hangout, it’s really where the non-committed guys go to celebrate and hook up.

  Which makes this get-together at Erik’s house all the more special, because most of the guys are here. I don’t think anyone really wanted to pass up an opportunity to hang out with Baden outside of the rehab hospital.

  Not that he is going to be in it much longer. He is getting released next week and is moving into a handicap-accessible condo downtown, about four blocks from me. While he’s still making significant progress in learning how to walk again, his main mode of mobility is still the wheelchair.

  The evening is starting to get late and while we don’t have a game tomorrow, we do have an early practice. I wish I could see Emory tonight, but she’s been in bed and asleep for a few hours already. Tonight is the night she had her talk with Felicity about her father coming back around. She had sent me a text after—which I didn’t read at the time as I was actually on the ice playing against the Titans—that she had the talk and it went fine and she’d tell me more about it tomorrow.

  Her text ended with, Exhausted and headed to bed. Miss you.

  It didn’t bother me that she didn’t stay up to watch the game on TV. While I know she’s a Vengeance fan—hello, she’s employed by the organization—I also know she’s a Jett Olsson fan—she’s told me as much and on more than one occasion—I don’t have any expectations that she’ll be glued to every game. Emory has her own life. She has obligations far more important than me, and I’m okay with that. I also hate that she carries so much on her shoulders, so I’m glad she’s getting a good night’s sleep tonight.

  “Another beer?” I’m nudged in the shoulder and when I turn, I see Jim standing there holding a fresh one toward me. I accept without qualms as Dominik Carlson had arranged for transportation home for all of us this evening.

  Not that we needed it.

  We know the dangers of driving drunk and there’s not one of us who won’t take an Uber or Lyft home. It was a nice gesture by him though, and it was his way of acknowledging how special it was that Baden was out in society and socializing again. The fact he is continually improving is just icing on the cake.

  I twist the cap off the bottle, holding it in my hand until I can get close to a garbage can. We’re currently i
n Erik’s basement man cave which boasts a big-screen TV, pool table, and vintage video games like Pac Man, Centipede, and Donkey Kong. He had added an elevator several months ago so Blue’s brother Billy could have full access to the entire house. Prior to the elevator, he had to drive his motorized chair around the backyard and down a sloping hill to get to the basement doors.

  This lowest level of the house is large enough to handle a rowdy hockey team drinking beers—despite the fact we lost to Pittsburgh tonight—but we were all given strict instruction to keep the decibels down as Erik’s pregnant wife, Blue, was upstairs sleeping. While we weren’t whispering to each other, it’s safe to say this is just about the quietest this team has ever been when gathered together.

  Doesn’t matter though. We’re all having a great time, made more so by the fact that Baden is having a great time. I think back to the initial weeks after his injuries, and how bleak everything looked. He was utterly defeated, and I never thought I’d see him smile again.

  As I look at him, sitting in his wheelchair with Wes standing beside him and about five other teammates surrounding him—everyone laughing and engaged in energetic conversation—I know that he’s going to be okay.

  No matter what… Baden will be okay.

  “I’m heading out after this one,” Jim says as I hold my bottle out and we tap necks. “That early practice is going to be hell on me tomorrow if I don’t get at least a few hours of sleep.”

  “I hear you, old man,” I tease.

  While no player on a professional hockey team could ever be considered old in spirit or body, it’s fun to tease Jim as one of our veteran players.

  “How’s life treating you?” he asks genially, completely ignoring my jab. I’m sure it’s because he hears it all the time and it’s lost the shine of humor.

  “It’s good,” I reply.

  Jim’s face transforms as he studies me. At first, he frowns, but then he tips his head to the side and his lips curl in a knowing smile. “Oh my God… you’re in love.”