Page 21 of Hockey Nanny

The All-Star Game was in New York, which was how I ended up standing in the lobby of a hotel that looked like it belonged to a different species of human life, suitcase handle digging into my palm while Henry ricocheted off the furniture.

A few weeks had passed since the season started blurring together. School mornings. Practice schedules pinned to the fridge. Henry learning which days meant games and which meant rest. Somewhere in between, Dawson had invited us to come watch them play at UBS Arena, said it like it was nothing, like people did this all the time.

Henry vaulted off the lobby sofa and landed two feet from the revolving doors, arms outstretched, helicopter slicing through the air above his head.

“Careful,” I said, half-laughing as I dragged our suitcase upright again. “We don’t want to get kicked out before we’ve checked in.”

He ignored me, making engine noises under his breath, boots thudding against marble that probably cost more than my car. A few weeks ago, I would have been mortified. Now I just angled the suitcase out of his path and let him orbit the furniture like a satellite with no off switch.

The front desk was gleaming stone and glass, everything reflective enough to catch my own expression as I approached.Alert. Slightly overwhelmed. Wearing jeans that suddenly felt underqualified.

“Checking in,” I said, sliding the reservation across. “Under Barnett.”

The clerk’s fingers paused on the keyboard.

His eyes flicked up. Back down. Then up again, this time with interest sharpened into something else entirely.

“Barnett,” he repeated. “As in Dawson Barnett?”

I felt heat crawl up my neck. “Yes.”

Another pause. A smile I hadn’t earned.

“And you are?”

“Carissa,” I said. “I’m traveling with Henry.”

Henry chose that moment to climb onto a velvet chair and launch his helicopter from armrest to air, narrowly missing a decorative lamp.

The clerk’s smile widened. “Of course you are.”

I bit back a comment and forced my attention back to the counter. The name seemed to hover between us, doing all the work. I hadn’t changed. My posture hadn’t improved. Yet the shift was instant.

“You’ll be in a suite,” he said, tapping keys with renewed enthusiasm. “Compliments of the organization.”

“Oh. That’s not necessary,” I started.

“It’s already done.”

Of course it was.

A bellboy appeared at my elbow like he’d been waiting for a cue, hand outstretched for the suitcase. I hesitated, then let go. Henry darted past him, helicopter banking hard toward a massive window overlooking the city.

“Henry,” I warned.

He skidded to a stop just short of the glass, breathless. “Did you see how tall it is?”

“I did,” I said. “Which is why we’re not touching it.”

He nodded solemnly, then immediately pressed his nose to the pane.

The elevator ride felt unreal. Plush carpet. Mirrored walls. Henry bouncing on his toes, the helicopter clutched in one hand like a prized possession. The bellboy chatted about the arena, the view, the amenities, speaking to me as if I belonged in this version of the world.

I smiled when required. Answered politely. Internally, I kept waiting for someone to realize there’d been a mistake.

The door to the suite opened and Henry gasped.

His voice echoed.