The music straight out of a karaoke bar on nineties night.
And then, when the Jeep door swings open, my smile widens to a full-blown grin because the person currently hopping out of the car with a giant purple bag over one shoulder and a pair of hockey skates slung over the other, sunglasses pushed up on her head and holding back a mass of red hair, is the woman who has taken up permanent residence in my thoughts.
What are the fucking chances?
CHAPTER FIVE
CAM
“Looking good, Wildcat,” I call across the parking lot, forgetting for a second that I have a kid on each side of me.
Oops.
But the oversight is worth it when Maddy’s head whips in my direction, and for the second before she schools her face into a neutral expression, I see it. The flash of heat in her eyes, like she thinks of last night every time she looks at me the same way I do when I look at her. The light flush that creeps up her cheeks.
And then, as quickly as it was there, it’s gone, and she’s stalking across the parking lot like she has places to be and asses to kick.
I wish I didn’t find that so fucking hot.
That’s a lie. I’m glad to find it so fucking hot. I’m glad for every minute I get to look at her. I also suddenly have an entirely new list of things I want to know about her, starting with the reason for the skates slung over her shoulder.
“Your car is really cool!” Riley calls, unprompted, as Maddy crosses the lot. I can tell she was going to try and sail right byme, but at the sound of Riley’s voice, she hesitates, reluctantly changing directions to walk towards us. God bless my daughter and her uncanny ability to talk to anyone about anything when she’s in the right mood.
“Thanks,” Maddy says, glancing between my two kids with a smile but avoiding eye contact with me in a way that has me biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “Celine is the great love of my life.”
Riley laughs. “You named your car Celine?”
Maddy smiles, adjusting the skates over her shoulder. “I sure did.”
“Why?”
“Because my car is awesome, and it deserved to be named after someone as amazing as Celine Dion.”
I have no idea why I find the idea that Maddy named her car after a nineties pop star so endearing, but I really fucking do.
Riley furrows her brow. “Who’s Celine Dion?”
Maddy gasps dramatically, holding a hand to her heart. Now she actually does look at me, and I feel a little zing when her gorgeous green eyes lock on mine. “I assume these children belong to you, and I have to say, the fact that one of them is not acquainted with the undeniable queen of power ballads has me calling your parenting skills into question.”
I chuckle, laying a hand on each of their shoulders. “They do, indeed, belong to me. This is Riley and Ethan, and I take the entire blame for their lack of nineties pop ballad knowledge.”
“He’s a pretty good dad,” Riley says with a shrug then she shoots me an evil grin. “Most of the time. How do you know him, anyway? He called you Wildcat, which I guess is a nickname, and he’s only ever given nicknames to me and Ethan.”
Maddy’s gaze shoots back to mine, and I can hear her as if she spoke the words out loud.
Be cool and don’t fuck this up.
“We work together,” I tell my kids, praying neither of them asks me why I call her Wildcat, because there’s no way my braincan conjure up a kid appropriate explanation for that question that won’t have Maddy kicking me straight in the balls. “Her real name is Maddy, and she’s the head psychologist for the Renegades.”
“What’s a psychologist?” Ethan asks.
Maddy turns her attention to my son, and something about the way she’s standing here, talking to them and answering their questions like it’s the most natural thing on earth, has my heart kicking up in my chest. “It means I’m in charge of making sure all the players are mentally prepared to play the game. They can talk to me about things that might be making it hard for them to play their best, and I help them find a way to fix it.”
“Like when I sprained my ankle playing hockey last year and I was afraid to go back on the ice when it was healed?” Ethan asks curiously.
Maddy bends down so she can look him in the eye. “Exactly like that. When athletes get injured, it can be hard for them to get back to playing because they’re afraid of getting hurt again. I help them face that fear and go back even stronger than they were before they got hurt.”
Ethan nods seriously, like he gets it, and the care she took to explain that to my son in a way that he would understand makes me feel all the things. “Do you play hockey like me? You’re at the arena and you have hockey skates on your shoulder.”
