“Uh.” I look down at the redheaded baby blinking at me. Her little arm reaches up, trying to grab my chin, and I cradle her head. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“You have one of these.” Maverick leans against the counter with a glass of water. “Shouldn’t you be a pro?”
“Tell me, Miller. In the time Murphy has been on this earth, have you ever felt like a pro?”
“Fuck, no.” He laughs. “I’m flying by the seat of my pants.”
“That never goes away. You’re going to be clueless for the rest of your life.” I pause and stick my tongue out at Murphy. She giggles, lighting up, and I forgot how goddamn precious babies are. “Fuck you for making a cute kid, Miller.”
“That’s all Em.” He sighs, so in love it makes me sick. “I hope she inherits her skating skills too.”
“Hartwell did have a way of putting you in your place on the ice.”
“Yeah.” Maverick glances out to the open living room, a dopey grin taking over his face when he finds his wife. “She did.”
“How are you two doing?” I ask.
We’ve had conversations after practice and in our monthly meetings, but I’ve made it a point to check in every time I see him. The last thing I want is for him and Emmy to feel broken and defeated again, and I’ll use all of my resources to help where I can.
“Better than ever. I can’t tell you what taking that time off meant to me, and I appreciate you being so flexible with me. I think you saved my marriage. Saved Emmy, too, and for that, I owe you my life.” He rubs his chest. “You’re a good guy, Coach. I hope I’m half the man you are when I grow up.”
“Shut up, Miller. You’re not much younger than me.”
“And feeling it every day.” There’s a long beat. He waits for a couple of the guys to grab a plate and file out of the kitchen before he adds, “I’m reaching the end, dude.”
“You already decided?”
“I’m going to honor my contract. Two years, then I’m out.” Maverick walks over and touches Murphy’s cheek. I see the same gleam in his eyes I know I have when I look at Liv. It’s been there from the moment I first held her, and it’s never going to go away. “Hockey was my first love. I have no clue what my life is going to look like without it, and it’s going to hurt like hell to walk away. But I have more important things calling my name. Don’t want to spend all my time hitting a puck and miss out on the greatest gift I’ve ever been given.”
“You don’t need to do any growing up, Miller. You’re a man now, and I don’t know If I’ve ever told you this, but I’m proud of you. When I first got to DC, you were a piece of work. I did damage control for you too many times to count. I thought you were lazy. I thought you were a guy who had god-given talent but cared about other things more than what he was blessed with.” I pause. There’s a lump in my throat, and I turn my head away from Murphy so I can cough to clear it away. “But you’ve changed. It’s been an honor to have you on my team, and the day you retire, I’ll have a seat at the bar saved for you.”
“Jesus, man. You need to stop.” Maverick wipes his eyes. “We’ve got the playoffs to get through. Two more seasons together.”
“You say that, but look at her.” Murphy wraps her tiny hand around my finger. I huff out a laugh. Maybe I’d like to have another one. “She’s perfect. No Stanley Cup is ever going to beat this, Maverick. I would never hold it against you for wanting to go now. You deserve to rest with the people you love.”
“We’ll talk after the summer. And fuck you for making me emotional.” Maverick glares at me. “Aren’t you supposed to be an asshole?”
“If Grant keeps playing as well as he has been, he’ll be a better player than you in five years,” I deadpan. “How’s that?”
“There’s the guy I know.” He waves to Hudson. “You want me to take Murph?”
“Nah. Go eat.” I shift out of the way from everyone filing in to the kitchen to fill their plates. “We’re fine.”
I find a chair in the formal living room where it’s quieter and take a seat, rocking Murphy in my arms. She blinks up at me with big, green eyes. I wait for her to scream, to demand to be handed back to someone she knows, but she never does, yawning instead.
“Well, shit,” I mumble. “You’re making it very difficult to want to be done with this life, kid.”
“The theories are true,” a soft voice says.
I look up to find Hannah staring at us with a smile.
“What theories?” I ask.
“A man holding a baby is right up there on the hot scale with backward hats and gray sweatpants.”
My lips twitch. “Yeah?”
“Without a doubt.” She walks over, perching on the arm of my chair. “Hi, Murphy. Gosh, you’re stinking cute.”
