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“That’s a pretty name. I’m Hattie.”
“I have a doll named Hattie!” she says excitedly, grinning widely and showing off a missing tooth. “Or, well, I used to. I kind of played mud fight with her and, uh, I think she got buried out there.” She looks thoughtful for a minute and then shrugs. I think she must be seven or eight and is utterly adorable. “Myrealname is Olivia, but everyone calls me Ollie.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Ollie. Whatcha readin’?” She turns the book towards me so I can see the cover and I grin. “That's one of my favorite books!” I tell her, a vivid memory of my mom readingMatildato me in the hammock by the pond slamming into me like a sledgehammer. It’s a good memory, but it makes me suddenly miss my mom so much it makes my chest ache. My nose burns as tears threaten, but I push them away. It’s like that sometimes, even though she’s been gone for almost six years now. I’ll be fine and a memory will rear up and nearly drop me to my knees. People always say that time heals all wounds, but I don’t think that’s true. I think time just gives you the opportunity to learn how to live with them, to learn to survive around the pain.
“I was actually Matilda for book character day at school three years in a row when I was a kid,” I tell her.
“I was the mouse who eats the cookies last year. I got to wear overalls. But this year, I’m definitely going to be Matilda!”
I grin at her and glance around. No one is paying us much attention or acting like she’s theirs, so I still don’t know who she is.
“Who do you belong to? Is your mom or dad here with you?”
“Oh, I’m just waiting for my uncle.” She glances past me and grins widely. “There he is! Uncle Con! She knows Matilda!”
I turn to find Connor striding over, hair damp and leaving wet spots on the shoulders of his gray shirt. He smiles at her as he approaches us and it’s a new smile, one I’ve never seen before. His entire face lights up, eyes sparkling with deep and unbending emotion. He obviously loves this kid more than just about anything on the planet.
“Is that right?” he asks, looking at me as Ollie stands up on the bench, poised to leap. Connor doesn’t take his eyes off of me as she jumps and he catches her easily, swooping her up and settling her on his shoulders in one practiced, fluid movement that they’ve obviously done a thousand times.
“Yep!” Ollie says before giggling. “Your hair is dripping on me.” Connor winks at me and then shakes his head like a dog, flinging water on all three of us. I yelp and Ollie giggles even more, that great peeling laughter that kids have.
He maneuvers her off of his shoulders and leans down to stage whisper, “I think I saw Uncle Rizzo heading this way with donuts.” Ollie lets out a squeal of excitement and bolts from the gym. I get the feeling that she's quite at home here and knows her way around, and she apparently knows Rizzo enough to call himUncletoo. Connor must babysit her a lot or something. He hasn't mentioned having family in Seattle, and, I realize now, I haven't ever asked. Now I kind of feel like a bad friend.
“So, she’s as cute as a bug’s ear.” He arches a blonde brow and I laugh. “She’s about the cutest thing in the universe,” I clarify.
“That she is,” he agrees easily. He’s still staring towards the door, but finally turns to meet my gaze. “You asked me why I stopped with the random hook ups and partying and being a playboy and all of that? She’s why.” I frown, not quite understanding. “She lives with me. I—” He cuts off as he turns to see Ollie sprinting back into the room, face covered in the remains of a chocolate donut, Rizzo trailing behind her. My eyes are wide in surprise. Sheliveswith him? Like, full time? Does his sister or brother live with him too, then? Is this a temporary situation? Are they ok? I have so many questions.
“Need a spotter, Mac?” Rizzo asks with a waggle of his brows as he saunters up to us.
“Can we get pizza for dinner?” Ollie asks and Connor laughs, that half-indulgent, half-exasperated laugh that parents do. I'm still so confused, and it must be plain on my face.
“Uh, would you like to have pizza with us tonight?” Connor asks, telling me without words that he’ll explain everything over dinner. “What do you think, Olls? Can my friend Mac here come to dinner?”
“Yes! Please, Hattie? We can finishMatilda!” Her tiny brow furrows. “Wait, why do they keep calling you Mac?”
I laugh. “Because hockey players are silly and think everyone needs a nickname.” She considers that for a second, her little face serious as she contemplates my statement, weighs it over.
“They are silly,” she agrees. “But I like Mac. It’s like mac-and-cheese, which is my second favorite food. No wait—third. First is pizza, then dino nuggets,thenmac-and-cheese. Anyway, will you come have pizza with us? I only like cheese, but we can get pepperoni if you want.”
“Uh…" I glance up at Connor, trying to read him, but I'm too curious to pass up the invitation. "Sure, I’d love to.”
“Sounds good. Our place around 7? I’ll text you the address.” He plucks Ollie’s headband off and puts it on his head, and she giggles like a hyena as she jumps up trying to get it back. I can’t help but laugh. Connor winks. “Enjoy your workout. See ya, Riz.”
Ollie says her goodbyes and the two of them leave the gym, Ollie skipping and hopping like a little puppy, gesturing wildly with her hands as she tells Connor something.
“Talk about being wrapped around a little finger,” Rizzo says after they’re gone. I turn to him, questions ready to fly off my tongue, but, in a rare moment of seriousness, he holds up a hand. “It’s not my story to tell, but he’ll fill you in at dinner I’m sure. He’s pretty private about that side of his life. I mean, all the guys know Ollie, of course, but not many others. You should feel honored that he’s letting you into that part of his world.” He studies me for a long second, seeming like he’s going to say something more, but then changes his mind, his customary rakish grin back in place and the levity back in his tone. “So, about that spotter...”
Connor’s house is a gorgeous farmhouse-style nestled back among a thick forest right on the lake. It’s large, but not obscenely so like you might expect a professional athlete’s house to be, and sits on what must be at least a few acres. The long driveway serpentines gracefully through the trees, a stone bridge arching over a small creek, before opening up to a wide front parking area. A four-car detached garage sits off to the right and I spy at least three motorcycles and a jacked-up jeep inside through the open doors. The country girl in me instantly wants to take that beast muddin’.
A wide lawn stretches to the left of the house, the trees surrounding the edges protectively, with a giant playset in the middle along with a trampoline. The door opens just as I put the car in park and Ollie sprints across the wide front porch and down the stairs.
“Hi Mac-and-Cheese!” she says, grinning, her tongue stained purple from a popsicle or lollipop.
“Ollie! Your coat!” Connor shouts as he walks out onto the porch, holding up a purple jacket. I wave and smile.
“Come on, I’ll show you my room!” Ollie says, tugging me forward by the hand. She doesn’t slow, and I give Connor a quickheybefore I’m yanked through the door. I’m immediately enveloped in warmth as we step foot inside. A roaring fire crackles in the over-sized fireplace, giving the whole house that amazing real burning wood smell that I’ve quickly become obsessed with since moving here. I think it reminds me a bit of the big bonfires we used to have back home growing up and just makes me feel safe and happy.
The living room is open to the kitchen, a large island dominating the space, and dark, exposed beams run along the high, steepled ceiling. An open stairway leads up to a loft-type space that overlooks the living area. The back wall of the living room is all windows, and over-sized glass doors open onto a wide wooden deck. A few hundred yards of manicured lawn sit between the deck and the lake, snow-capped mountains in the distance. It's idyllic, like something out of a magazine or movie.
