Turning on me again, he says, “I imagine you’re going to run now that a kid is involved.”
I scoff, right there in his old, puckered face. “Kai seems like a good kid in need of a good home.”
“I’m on the road and Sabrina is busy with her causes,” Lane Sheridan Senior says as if that automatically abdicates him from the responsibility.
Narrowing my eyes, I want to give this man the benefit of the doubt, but he just proved my father right and then some.
Bowling on and surprised by the cast-iron in my own voice, I say, “I want him to have one with us.”
Kai looks at me with the kind of happy surprise that only a kid can—like I told him we’re headed to Disneyland and will remain there for the foreseeable future. I flash him a wink, a look of assurance to say that we’re going to figure this out.
Apparently.
Because I just told one of the most fearsome hockey coaches in the league that I’m going to honor my vows to his son and provide a stable and loving home for his grandson.
This also means I broke my promise to my father.
Lane Sheridan Senior stalks off, leaving Sabrina, Kai and me to talk among ourselves. I get the sense that while her husband is accustomed to getting his way, she truly runs the show and will give him an earful later.
Instead of backing down, something inside of me rises to the occasion. I feel confident and powerful in a way that I never have before. As the game resumes, my entire body whirrs with what I can only describe as electric certainty.
It sticks with me, loud in my cheers from the suite as I make it very clear that I want the Knights to crush the Mustangs and for Lane to win.
When he sinks a goal, he immediately finds me in the stands. The shift in his expression goes from fierce to fleeting, like he can’t believe his eyes.
I’m wearing his jersey.
Even from here, I can see the way his shoulders straighten like he wants to play harder for me, fight harder. The way he skates with new energy and purpose makes my heart race in a way that has nothing to do with the game and everything to do with the realization that maybe I matter to him in a way I never expected.
The Knights win four to two, with Lane scoring the final goal. My friends insist on dragging me to the team after-party here at the facility. Margo organizes these events with careful attention to detail—silver, red, and black streamers cascade from the ceiling while accent lighting bathes the room in a warm glow. Even the drink swizzle sticks are in the team’s palette and she managed to find silver platters shaped like hockey pucks forall the snacks.
The players and their families fill the massive space lined with glass on three sides, overlooking the rink and the Cobbiton winter night.
I spot Lane immediately, standing with his parents and Kai near the refreshments table. He changed into casual clothes—jeans and a longsleeve shirt. Even tired and in need of a shave, he somehow looks even more handsome.
His gaze strays to me and lingers, cuts back, and then returns as if he can’t resist a second glance. Warm shivers rush through me as I approach.
“We should take Kai back to our hotel tonight,” Sabrina says excitedly. “Spoil him a little. He’s had quite a few days.”
Lane looks uncertain. “I don’t know ...”
“We have a huge suite at the Obelisk, and there’s a pool,” Sabrina adds as if that sweetens the deal.
I watch Kai’s face as the adults discuss his immediate future like he’s not standing right here. He’s trying to look excited about the fancy hotel, but his expression is stony, guarded like he’s learned not to get too attached to good things because he’s observed they don’t typically last.
Stepping into their circle, I say, “Kai gets these little spurts of love and attention, and then what? He gets handed off to whoever will take him next. That’s not really fair to him.”
Lane stares at me, and I realize I’ve just articulated something he’s been feeling but couldn’t put into words … or I overstepped. I’m not entirely sure.
“I get that grandparents spoil their grandkids, but he also needs consistency. People who show up every day, in the middle of the night if his stomach is upset, after school to help with his homework, out early to bring him to sports practice.”
At those last particular words, his face brightens.
“You’re absolutely right,” Sabrina says, her respect for me clearly growing.
Shifting my gaze between both Lanes as if what I’m about to say is law, I declare, “He can stay with you tonight and then he comes home to us.”
The wordushangs in the air like a line in the sand. No, in cement. Once we cross it, there’s no going back. I can’t take it back. I don’t want to. Even though I don’t know this kid, in many ways, I was this kid.
