Gaining custody of my kid sister has been an adjustment of massive proportions. I went from seeing her once a week to stepping into the father role after ours went out for milk and never came back. Then her mother abandoned her a few weeks before the playoffs last season. Luckily, the judge overseeing the case understood enough of the situation to sign over custody to me. Our Voltage family was persuasive, the entire team, all the coaches, and most of the office staff filling the courtroom.
Now we’re in the middle of camp, and I’ve been late more times than I can count. I’ve tried multiple alarms, laying out clothes and bags the night before, getting up thirty minutes earlier. Somehow, we’re still always behind.
Rooks pulls to a stop outside Ms. Shona’s. Aubrey unbuckles and slips out before I can open my door. She grabs her bookbag, hitches it over her shoulder, and then runs toward the front porch. She pauses at the base of the steps, a slight hesitation before she turns and runs back to the truck.
I’m ready for it, already out of the truck and arms wide. Like clockwork.
As she tucks into my chest, I cup the back of her head, savoring the moments she acts like the little girl she ought to be.
“You’ll be back in a few hours, right?” she asks, her voice small and muffled by my shirt.
“Yeah, little bit. Me or Rooks will be here right after lunch.”
“Promise?”
“A thousand times.”
“Love you, Bubba. Slay it on the ice today.” She presses her little body into me one more time before sprinting to the porch where her tutor waits.
This right here is the reason I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. That little girl is everything to me.
“Love you, too, Aubs. Behave,” I shout as she waves and disappears inside.
Rooker hits the interstate for the half-hour drive to Athens. I try to zone out, willing thoughts of Kates away. My annoyingly optimistic driver has other plans.
“Call her, man,” he says as he fiddles with the stereo, an old rock song filling the cab.
“Drop it, Rooker.”
He shakes his head as he merges into the fast lane. “I was there for the fallout, remember? I helped pick up the pieces and made sure you didn’t shut us out,” he says, eyes flicking to me before returning to the road. “That little girl we dropped off needs to be with you. With us. The team.”
Frustration pools in my gut. “She will be,” I grumble, dragging my palms over my face.
“While you’re still our star center? Fat chance if something doesn’t change.”
Damn it, he’s right. As much as I fight it, I sink into that locker in the back corner of my mind—the one where I keep all the negative thoughts locked away.
I'm not cut out for fatherhood. Oakley was right not to want kids with me. I was never meant to be a dad.
“Hey.” Rooks nudges my shoulder, giving me that look of understanding that guts me every time. “Thoughts are getting heavy over there. Talk to Thorn or see if Marley has any leads. The wives and girlfriends adore Shortstack and want to help, but they aren’t going to say anything until you reach out first.”
“Damn it, man. You talked to Marley about this?” I groan. “I’m not asking for a handout.”
“It’s not a handout when they want to help. We’re lucky to call this team our family—I know that better than most. And hell yes, I told Marley. I tell my sister everything.”
Great. Just what I need: two Jacobs siblings stressing over my life.
“I promise I’m stressing enough for all of us. Just…just back off it. Please. I’ll talk to Thorn after practice.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
He exits the interstate, and the practice rink comes into view—a big white rectangle with a flat roof and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the college campus.
This place was privately funded with the goal of expanding the state’s D1 hockey presence, and it delivered.
Our coaching staff quickly realized that a large chunk of our rookies—four or five of them, since our team is mostly young blood—lived in a townhouse in Athens or wanted to keep taking classes. It works out, since our old rink is open to the public from eight to eight, which made daytime practices interesting, to say the least.
Now we've got private ice and better security, which matters more than ever with Aubrey around most days. With theanonymous calls and the nagging fear that someone could find some legal loophole to take her from me, I need every ounce of peace of mind I can get.
