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He gives a short huff, a laugh that isn’t really a laugh at all.
“Hey, I’m serious. The decisions you’re facing now are like none other you’ve had to face before. I know this lack of confidence isn’t something you’re used to, and you’re worried about making the wrong choices, but you’re doing agoodjob. So, ease up on yourself, okay?”
His eyes meet mine. “Why do you do that?”
I blink. “Do what?”
“Why do you keep trying to make me feel better? I get why you’re here. It was the only option. But trying to build me up after the pain in your ass I’ve been… Why?”
“Because I know how overwhelming this kind of change can be.” Not because I’ve found myself a single parent with no days’ notice, but because I’ve found myself over my head with too much responsibility for a kid my age and the person who should have been protecting me just asking me to take on more.
I pull my hand back. “And maybe you’re not quite the jerk I thought you were.”
This time, the chuckle is genuine, and after a beat, he steps back from the counter and nudges me aside to make up a bottle. Maybe it’s just that it’s so late or that we’ve both spent some time on the rollercoaster this week, or maybe it’s that I’ve seen a side of Axel I haven’t before… but hearing him like that is nice.
Not get-crushy-over nice.
No way. The guy might be beyond gorgeous, but he’s still a player.
But maybe nice like not-so-terrible-to-have-to-work-with nice.
When the bottle’s ready, he returns to the living room and sets it beside one of the club chairs. I open my mouth to offer something. What? I have no idea because Axel reaches over his shoulder and grabs a handful of T-shirt, whipping it off in one fluid, muscles-bulging, shoulder-flexing, ab-defining move.
“Wha…” I sort of wheeze out, dropping into the chair opposite his.
I can feel my eye twitch. Know that my mouth is hanging open.
“The nurses told me the skin-to-skin contact is good for him,” he says absently, reaching for his son and carefully unwrapping him until it’s just the two of them, shirtless. Otto tucked into the crook between his daddy’s powerful chest and enormous arm. Axel using the utmost care to lay a thin blanket over him to hold the heat.
And then, he reaches for the bottle and starts to feed him.
“Think you got a little drool there…” he murmurs in the voice that’s as gentle as he can make it.
The words filter through a haze of something so thick I don’t even want to try to name it. I start to push out of my chair to grab him one of the burp cloths I washed earlier when Axel’s eyes slant to me, a knowing smirk hooking across his stupidly handsome face, as he adds, “Nora.”
I suck a breath and swipe at my dry mouth, thank you, glowering as he lets out a short snicker I totally deserve but will never hand him again.
Grumbling, I sit back. “Let me guess, the nurses were lining up to help you with your skin-to-skin baby-daddy time?”
He gives me a noncommittal grunt, but his smile saysYes. Yes, they were.
Of course.
* * *
Axel
LeavingOtto for the first time on Friday is tough. Uncomfortable. But Nora’s holding him when I leave, and we set up the baby monitoring system so I can check in and see how he’s doing whenever I need to.
The hardest part is getting in the elevator, but by the time I’m downstairs, Boomer and Bowie are waiting out front. Immediately, they start in with their relentless shit about my “vacation” and whether I’ll remember how to skate or not. It’s obnoxious and exactly what I need to get into the right headspace for practice.
The Slayers are a solid team. I’m not as tight with all of them as I am with Grady, Boomer, and Bowie, but there’s a definite family vibe, and when I walk into the locker room, I’m greeted with a roar of cheers and something that looks like a cake made out of diapers in the center where the laundry cart usually sits.
“Damn, boys, you shouldn’t have.” I laugh as I get a closer look at this thing. It’s held together by Slayers-branded ribbons and on top, there’s a teddy bear wearing a tiny Slayers jersey that says “Otto” and holding a stuffed hockey stick and puck. It’s adorable, and I take a picture to send to Nora.
It feels good to get back on the ice. To know what the fuck I’m doing for a few hours. I’m in my element for the first time in a week, with my team, falling into the rhythm of the play.
Mostly.
