I ground my teeth, trying to come up with something, anything, to say back to her, but the sharp blast of a whistle pierced through the air. My head jerked toward the ice on an instinct I would probably never shake.
A couple of boys were scrapping in the corner, their sticks clattering in the wake of their clash, and one of them was unmistakably Brody. Maisie went completely rigid.
“Move,” she snapped, shoving me aside as she stood up, her voice tight with panic and her gaze glued to the ice. Her cheeks paled.
“Sit tight,” I said, already turning away from her. “I’ll get this.”
“Callum—”
Before she could even finish, I was practically flying down the stands. After quickly shoving my feet back into my skates, I raced back onto the ice. The kids froze when they saw me coming.
Brody didn’t look scared, though. If anything, he looked ready to scrap with me too. His chin was lifted, his fists clenched like he wasn’t about to back down from anyone.
Hell yeah, kid. That fighting spirit will take you far in life. If you can learn to control it.
Surprisingly, this kid reminded me a lot of myself at his age. Too confident and not willing to put up with the other boys not paying attention or giving their all in practice.
I skated over, nodding at a younger coach who had slung his arm around the other, smaller boy. “I’ll take it from here.”
The guy looked relieved enough to melt into the boards. He nudged the other boy, keeping a gentle hand on his shoulders as they skated away.
I met Brody’s gaze and crouched down until my eyes were level with his, my voice low but firm. “Take off your skates, kid.”
He frowned and then let out a soft scoff. “What? I don’t even know who you are.”
“Take ‘em off,” I repeated, still keeping my voice quiet enough that his teammates wouldn’t overhear me but making sure he would realize that there was no point in arguing. “You’re done practicing with the little kids.”
His head jerked like I’d insulted him. His eyebrows jumped up as a storm started churning in that angry green gaze he’d obviously inherited from his mother. “I wasn’t?—”
“You’re too rough for them,” I cut in, leveling him with a stare. “You need to play with kids your own size. Even if they’re older. You’re moving up to the next league, little dude.”
The silence that followed was heavy but almost electric. Brody’s expression was caught somewhere between disbelief and pride as he stared back at me, his mouth twitching like he didn’t want me to see him smile.
I straightened and glanced back at the boards where Maisie was waiting. She stood just off the ice, her arms wrapped around her chest like she was physically trying to keep herself together, but her eyes were locked on me, wide and unguarded. She stared at me in a way that damn near broke my heart.
She’s really been doing this alone? Raising this kid, this fierce oversized seven-year-old who’s already half her size, by herself?
I went over to her and said, “I’ll see you tonight,” keeping my voice low so only she could hear. “We’re having a redo. Same time, same place.”
Leaving her standing exactly where she was, I went to find Gage. Brody wasn’t wasting another practice stuck in the wrong group. Not if I had anything to say about it.
CHAPTER 8
MAISIE
Against every shred of better judgment I had, I found myself pulling into the same cracked parking lot of the same bar where we’d met before. The neon sign buzzed weakly over the door and a single streetlight flickered in the corner like even it didn’t trust the place.
Brody was at home with Jace, safe, sound, and tucked into his math workbook while Jace finished an assignment he had due on Monday. When I’d left, they’d been setting goals for themselves that would earn them extra dessert when they accomplished them. Both boys had seemed pretty motivated by sugar.
As my car slowed to a stop, I reminded myself that despite how crazy it was to be back here, I’d come because of Brody. Becausemaybe, just maybe, this insane idea would give him all those things I’d never been able to provide him on my own.
Even so, my stomach was in absolute knots as I pushed open the bar’s heavy door. At least I was dressed more appropriately tonight. Jeans and a T-shirt with a light jacket that I hoped gave the outfit a bit of a more professional, businesslike edge.
Callum was already there. It took me no time at all to find him in the dimly lit interior now that I knew who I was lookingfor. He sat at a corner table with his broad shoulders hunched slightly forward, a bottle of beer between his hands. That near-black hair was slightly tousled again, like he’d run his hands through it one too many times.
For a moment, I slowed the brisk pace I’d kept up from the parking lot and just took him in. He looked completely at home here in this dingy, badly lit bar with the cheap carpets, old peanuts on the counter, and sticky surfaces.
I wouldn’t have expected it from a guy like him. AWestwood. To my mind, he belonged at bougie, upmarket cocktail parties or in those restaurants that were so exclusive, you couldn’t walk in or even make a reservation. They either knew about you or they didn’t.
