Fuck.
They were a week out from the end of the month, and he was going to be short.
He was trying to do everything he could. He got food stamps. He’d maxed out his number of shifts at the coffee shop–they weren’t willing to move him up to full time. He was pushing how much he could deliver groceries with Rowan tagging along.
And even with all of that, it wasn’t enough.
There was an option. One he’d been hesitant to explore now that he had Rowan. But maybe it was what he needed. Maybe it could take away some of the financial stress.
In the morning, he’d ask Sandra and Dotty if they’d be up for a little more time with his son.
Decision made, he finally opened the unread messages.
Jamie:
Please let me know if you guys need anything.
Not to be a creeper, but I just looked down at your seats and you’re not there. Everything okay?
Tyler, please don’t hesitate to ask if there’s something you need.
Okay. Guess you really left.
Have a good night, then.
Tyler closed his eyes. He needed to respond. Heshouldrespond, but sleep tugged at his eyes. He didn’t have time to think about someone else. He knew it was shitty to not reply, but right then, he couldn’t bring himself to worry about Jamie.
Dropping his phone, he let out a slow, deep breath.
Tomorrow. He’d text Jamie tomorrow.
CHAPTER 9
JAMIE
GO GET THE CAT
“Good win, boys.”
Jamie stood at the door of the locker room in his suit, slapping the slick, sweaty hands of his teammates as they trooped in from the ice. It had been close, but with Bergy standing on his head in goal they’d managed to close out the game with a 3-2 victory at home against Washington.
It hadn’t been pretty, but a win was a win.
“Fuck, that was brutal.” Mitch tossed his helmet down in his stall, peeling the soaked jersey from his back. He turned to Jamie, a frown on his face. “See anything from up top that might help?”
“We’re getting isolated trying to get the puck through the neutral zone,” Jamie said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his gray slacks. It didn’t feel right, being clean and dry and buttoned up while the team,his team, bore the evidence of a battle well-fought. “I think working up the walls a little more in practice could help.”
Mitch nodded.
“Cap,” Liam Olsson shouted out.
Jamie wound his way through his teammates to the tall, long-limbed Swede. He was young, only in his early twenties, and stillhad the shadow of acne scars on his red cheeks. Blonde hair stuck out straight from his head. “Good work out there,” Jamie offered, clapping a hand to Liam’s shoulder pad.
Liam shook his head. “I’m getting beat on defense. Playing second line is different. More quick.”
“You’re holding your own,” Jamie said, even though he’d seen how tough the matchup had been for Liam, who was playing up on the second line to fill in for Jamie. “How about I stick around after practice tomorrow and we can run some drills to get your footwork a little cleaner?”
The relief was obvious on Liam’s face as he smiled. “You are very good captain, Sully.”
