My lower back screamed anticipating the hell that was installing and uninstalling a car seat. Even if Jack got them out, I’d likely be getting them back in by myself.
Jack shrugged. “I’ll get it out for you. And uh, just give me the address and I can get your daughter.”
He was just . . . going with it. I stood wide-eyed and dazed. I’d have to call the daycare to say Jack was authorized to pick up Hazel, maybe fill out a form.
He was waiting for me to move on. “Where’s your car?” he asked, my phone ringing yet again. “I can get both car seats. I’ve got a big car. And you’ll probably have to call the daycare to let them know I’m not a kidnapper.”
“Um, before we do that,” I started, “can I Google you? I know you’re probably not a criminal but?—”
Jack didn’t laugh at me. He just nodded. “I get it. Go for it. I’ll pull my car around while you’re doing that. Just point to which one’s yours.”
I sucked in a breath. It was so very rare that I ever had help outside of Gabi. It would be a real break to have someone else pick up the slack now.
“Right over there.”
FOUR
JACK
SEPTEMBER
“Where’s your mom?”
I stiffened hearing Aspen ask that question, wondering how Harper would answer. I hit my head on the door frame since I was bent to unclip Mara’s daughter from her car seat. She looked on the verge of tears, so I tried making a friendly face.
“Mommy and Daddy are divorced,” Harper answered Aspen. “That means I have a room at my mom and my dad’s house.”
“Mine too!” Aspen said, and they high-fived like it was another cool fact they shared. It’s funny—kids will share what shows they watch and how often they poop, but they won’t talk about basic things like where Mom and Dad live.
So that confirmed Aspen’s mom being single unless she was dating someone. Not that I cared. I wasn’t ever going to try loving someone again. All Sydney brought me was hassle and big bills. It was going to be me and the kids until they were eighteen. And then who knows? Maybe go coach somewhere. Maybe spend the rest of my life rotting in peace.
Peace sounded good.
The baby, Hazel, brought me back to the present, her little lips flipping into a scowl.
“I’m not scary! I’m not scary! Your mama will be here soon!” I tried. “Look! Your brother’s right there.”
Hazel eyed me with deep suspicion, huffing like she was deciding whether or not to cry. She was still in her pumpkin car seat, but she was too old to be left in it to nap. I was going to have to play with this baby for what, another hour or two?
“Hey, Aspen, what snacks does Hazel like?”
“Puffs,” he threw over his shoulder before dashing off with Harper and Jace to the backyard.
Four kids is a lot to juggle. I had to go back to the school to get Jace at 3, then to the daycare to get Hazel at 5. We’d been in and out of the car half the day. I’d thought smart and fed Aspen and Harper, taking them to the playground until I had to pick up Jace. Then it was back home to regroup before getting Hazel. Three pickups, four kids.
Hazel watched the three older kids run off. Mara had sent me a flurry of talk-to-text messages on her way back to work, some of which were half coherent. She warned me that Hazel couldn’t walk yet, but was trying and could stand. I peeked down in the diaper bag I was sent home with and found some of the prescribed puffs.
I put Hazel on my hip, grabbed the diaper bag, and closed all the car doors. “Whaddya think, kid? Should we follow them?”
We went out back to find the older kids climbing into the hammock I’d strung between two trees. I bought this house as a post-divorce gift to myself. I wanted the kids to have somewhere comfortable to be when they were with me, and that included a small yard with a pool where they could play. Plus, I didn’t really want to move after I retired from hockey, which could be sooner rather than later. I was thirty-five, which is borderline ancientfor a professional hockey player. Even The Great One retired at thirty-eight.
And I had a little more incentive to quit early. I’d rather raise my kids myself if at all possible, and being on the road for such a big chunk of the year didn’t let me do that. I felt like a dick for not just hanging it up when Syd and I split, but I do still love the game. Did that make me a bad dad for not choosing my kids first over my sport?
“Sing,” Hazel said, pointing to the hammock.
“You want me to sing?” I asked, horrified as I looked at her. “Oh,swing. Yeah, we’ll swing in a minute.”
The kid started to chuckle, those little baby “hyuck hyuck” laughs. I couldn’t help but join her. Hazel had Mara’s crystalline blue eyes and a wispy version of her red hair. I was shocked that it was fun having a baby around again.
