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LucaVictor gives me a shit-eating grin as soon as I roll into the locker room, five minutes later than usual.
“Good night?” he asks.
“Great night.” I quickly strip out of my day-old clothes and get into my practice gear. “You?”
“Fantastic night.”
“Yeah?” I ask, though I’m not really surprised. Vic has blond hair, blue eyes and a boy-next-door charm that drops panties. “You meet Kristen Moore?”
He nods. “Met her, got her number, taking her out tonight.”
“No shit?”
He holds his hands out in surprise. “You doubt my game, fuckface?”
“No, but she’s big-time, man. My nieces watch that movie she’s in over and over. And isn’t she a model too?”
“Uh huh.” His eyes light and his grin widens.
Anton laughs from a few lockers away. “You’re too broke for her, son.”
Vic flips him off. I finish changing and sit down with my phone. I had several texts from Cora, but I didn’t have time to check them until now.
Cora: Uncle Luca, y aren’t u home yet????
Cora: Are u OK???
Cora: I’m worried. ?
I text her back to let her know I’m okay and will be back home this afternoon, then set my phone in my locker and sigh heavily. I feel so fucking guilty. I shouldn’t have stayed out all night. Even with my parents taking care of the kids at my house, I should’ve known Cora would worry.
It was a big adjustment going from bachelorhood to, pretty much, single parenthood. I didn’t just have to figure out how to take care of the kids on my own, I also had to help them through the grief of losing their mom soon after losing their dad. We made it through, though. We’ve gotten to a point where there’s laughter in the house. The kids are arguing with each other and whining about how gross vegetables are. Those are the kinds of things I want them doing—not worrying about me dying.
“You okay, man?” Anton asks me.
I nod, looking around and realizing that the locker room has mostly cleared out. I get up and head out to the rink with Anton.
“You’re not okay,” he says as we walk.
“I will be.”
“I’m always here.”
I nod and clap him on the shoulder. Anton and Vic are my closest friends. We’ve liked each other and played well together on our line since Vic’s trade to Chicago. But it was the deaths of my brother and sister-in-law that really cemented our friendship. Those two were there for me in every possible way.
When I got the news about my brother being killed in action in Afghanistan, Vic cried with me. Anton called every sports reporter for every outlet that covers our team—and there are a lot—and told them if anyone contacted me for an interview about my brother or took photos of me or the kids, their outlet would never get an interview with a Blaze player again.
Losing my older brother was harder than I could ever put into words. Matt was my hero, and I was so damn proud of his military service. To me, he was invincible. My brother was always stronger and faster than me. He played hockey, too, but it was never his passion. He always wanted to serve in combat. After he did a couple tours, I stopped worrying something could happen to him.
And then he was gone.
I can’t focus at practice, because Cora’s texts are on my mind. A couple years ago, I would’ve been thinking about the amazing night I had with Abby. But now, my priorities are different.
I swore to Danielle on her deathbed that her children would always come first for me. And after her funeral, I went to my brother’s gravesite and promised him I’d do everything in my power to fill the deep void in his children’s lives. I’ll never be half the father he was to them, but I have to be the best uncle I can be.
“Hey,” Vic says, shoving me. “Wake the fuck up, man. Did you not sleep last night?”
“Uh…a little.”
“Well, phone it in a little better.” He lowers his voice. “Easy and Richter are both on your ass.”
“Richter?” I turn to look at him, confused.
Easy is a second line winger, doing the same job I do on our team. Richter is a third line winger. And even though it’s very unlikely either of them will get my spot and I’ll get demoted, Vic’s right—I can’t risk it.
Vic skates off for his drill, and I mentally shake off the cobwebs in my head. I have to focus on practice, no matter how guilty I feel about Cora worrying about me.
Nothing to really think about, anyway. I fucked up, and it won’t happen again. Spending the night with a woman is too much of a luxury for me now. All my focus has to be on the kids and hockey.
It’s for the best, anyway, because no matter how great the sex was last night, Abby’s obviously not planning to call me.
