What????
DADDY-O: You aren’t old enough to rent a car, and I wanted to make sure you made it to the hotel safely. I should have just come with you.
No.
He shouldn’t have.
My dad is only forty-five years old and very much still working. Plus, he’s spent the last two years taking care of me and then taking care of both Ryan and me. He deserves to have a little time alone.
Thank you. I appreciate you so much.
DADDY-O: You need to do this. And know that I always, always have your back. Always.
Smiling, I send him a heart emoji before I bend down and swing Ryan into my arms. With a diaper bag backpack strapped to my back and Ryan in my arms, I make my way toward baggage claim. True to his word, there is a man waiting for me there with a sign in his hand that has my name scrawled on it.
“Wrenly?” he asks.
The man is tall, at least six foot three, and wide. He’s wearing jeans and a light-blue button-down shirt with a black tie. His hair is cut short and slicked back with product. But when he smiles, it makes me feel warm and fuzzy, like a dad smile.
Nodding once, I verbally confirm that I’m myself. He chuckles, then asks me which bags are ours. Before I can even attempt to reach for my bag, he has it off the conveyor belt and on the floor next to my feet.
Ryan and I follow behind him as he carts two bags and the stroller. I don’t understand how he does it all, and as soon as he stops in front of a black SUV, I decide to ask him.
“Do you have kids?” I ask.
He smirks. “Why? Do I look like a pack mule?” he asks.
“You are really good at handling all that stuff at once. I don’t think I could do it,” I confess.
He turns to me, his lips curved up into a smile, and there is a little sparkle in his eyes. “I’m a dad. My kids are a little older now, but you never forget the logistics of carrying luggage or fitting it into cars for road trips.”
Then he reaches for the car seat in my hand once he’s loaded up the back of the SUV with the luggage, and I watch as he expertly buckles and locks it into place in the back seat. I place Ryan in his seat, buckle him in, then climb into the back and sit down beside him.
The traffic isn’t too bad, and I’m surprised that it’s not worse, to be honest. It only takes us about half an hour to arrive at the hotel. When the SUV stops moving, the driver turns toward me and hands me a card.
“Call me if you need anything at all. Your dad instructed me to take care of you and explained the situation. Whatever you need, I’m your proxy dad here.”
My eyes well up with tears, and I choke out a “Thank you” as I take the card. In black type, the name Patrick O’Shea is written and a phone number, nothing else. I don’t know where my dad found this guy, but I’m sure glad he did.
I thank him again, then Ryan and I make our way into the hotel. It’s directly across the street from the hockey stadium, and there are also some places to shop and restaurants within walking distance. Not that I’ll be doing any shopping, but we do have to eat.
Once we’re settled into the room, I give Ryan a bath and put him to bed. He’s just as exhausted as I am from a full day’s travel and falls asleep almost immediately. It takes me a bit longer to find my sleep. My mind and body are far too anxious to relax.
Luckily, I only have to feel this way until tomorrow night.
Until the game.
Until I see Eli Abbott again.
For the second time in my life.
THREE
WRENLY
Ryanand I find our seats in the arena. I was able to get seats just beside the team box. Where the players stay during the game and jump in and out. I don’t know much about hockey, but I started watching it about the time Ryan was born.
Honestly, I still don’t understand much, and every time they get into fights, I have to close my eyes and hold my breath because I don’t want anyone to get hurt. It’s ridiculous. I know it is, but it scares me.
