“Is he married?” I ask, my voice almost hoarse from trying to hide the tension in it. My brother and Eli turn their confused stares on me now. “Winnie and I work in tandem on this invasive thing.”
“I assume that a wife or girlfriend or some female of significance usually comes with a child,” Jude says with snark, and I stick my tongue out at him because giving him the finger at the dinner table would be rude. Meanwhile, my brain is reeling. Is he married? Like legally? Is he a cheater? Was he going to cheat with me?
When I look across the table, Dixie and Winnie are asking me the same questions with their eyes. We’ve always been able to read each other’s thoughts without a word. It drives Jude nuts, and even my dad thought it could get creepy. They both look as worried and borderline horrified as I am because it’s a real possibility. Griffin Sullivan might be married, and in that case—I just dodged a bullet.
7
Griffin
Iwalk through the bustling concourse slowly, absorbing the happy energy the fans are filling the air with. I don’t always walk through the public parts of the arena on game days, but today, I needed the pick-me-up. I’ve been in a bad mood since I got served, and I need all the help I can get to shake it. The happy energy the fans have normally helps me relax, but today, it’s not helping much. I don’t think anything will. I turn a corner, my eyes focused on two kids in Thunder jerseys who are bouncing with excitement as their parents walk then through the arena, but then something in front of me catches my attention instead. It’s a quick blur of teal jacket and brown hair moving violently downward. I instantly reach out, my hands grabbing onto her a little roughly, but I manage to keep her from hitting the cement floor.
“Oh, my God, thank you!” she says in a gasp, and I realize I just caught Trish, one of the Thunder’s PR team.
“You’re welcome,” I reply and help her to her feet. I look down and see a bright orange blob of nacho cheese sauce smeared across the floor and on the edge of her high heel. “Some sloppy nacho eating fan almost killed you.”
“That would make for a nifty headline,” Trish replies wryly. “Hockey team employee killed by nacho cheese. As a publicist I can’t thank you enough for keeping that headline from becoming a reality.”
She lets out a little laugh and squeezes my arm. I pat her hand reassuringly. “It’s all good.”
I wave over an arena employee. “We have a spill here. Can you call someone with a mop?”
“Sure thing,” the employee says and gets on his walkie-talkie immediately. Confident he is going to stand there until it’s cleaned up, I thank him and start back toward the doors that lead to the staff area. Trish follows along beside me.
“Since I have your attention, I was going to ask you about the goaltending situation. You know it’ll be the press’s first question,” Trish says as I hold the door open for her. “How is Eli?”
“He appears fine, but we’re keeping him out as a precaution,” I explain. She nods and types something into her phone as I come to a stop at the elevator and punch the up button. “I’m heading up to the team box to watch the warm-up.”
“Thanks again for saving my ass—literally,” she says with a laugh. “Go Thunder!”
She turns to walk down the hall as I step into the elevator.
Ten minutes later I’m watching Noah in net during warm-up. He looks good, stopping the majority of shots his teammates are taking on him. His movements indicate he’s a little stiff. But I’m not worried. I have watched him enough in practice scrimmages to know he’ll loosen up the longer he is out there.
As he leaves the net to skate around a little, I let my eyes drift around the arena. The super-fans, as I like to call them, are gathered down around the boards, watching. I remember the rush of their cheers and the funny signs some of them would bring. I used to love to find the youngest kid and toss him or her a puck over the boards.
But as I search for that young wide-eyed fan pressed up against the glass, I spot someone else instead. Sadie Braddock. She looks like a sexy, free-spirited hippie country girl—which is weird for a nurse from Toronto, Canada—and hot as hell. She reminds me of those country-loving Carolina girls I used to meet on summer vacations with my parents. Only Sadie’s better.
I know it was my decision to stop things before they started with Sadie, but just seeing her makes me want to talk to her again. And I shouldn’t. This custody thing with Lauren isn’t going away any time soon, so I shouldn’t make my life any more complicated than it is. And dating is always complicated, especially as a single dad. I need to leave it alone right now or I’ll screw it up. Again. So I just take this secretive moment, while no one will notice, to drink her in. She’s standing next to Jude’s wife, who passes Sadie the baby in her arms. He’s wearing a tiny Thunder jersey withBRADDOCKon the back. I loved when Charlie wore a little version of my jersey when I played.
She takes the little boy into her arms and lifts his chubby arm, helping him wave to his dad. Jude skates to a stop in front of them, makes a goofy face at his son, and I can see Sadie say something. Jude rolls his eyes at his sister, but he’s smiling and his wife is laughing. Sadie looks down at the child and nuzzles his cheek. It makes him giggle, and she grins. She’s perfect. The thought floods me.
I tear my eyes away from her as the horn sounds, signaling the end of the warm-up. I force myself to leave the box without looking back at her. I make my way down to the locker room and talk over some strategy with Noah and try to gauge his nerves. As soon as we’re on the same page and he’s feeling confident, I leave. I turn to walk toward the elevators, trying to focus on the game ahead and not my personal issues. It feels like an impossible task. And as if the Universe is trying to prove my point, Eli’s voice booms down the cavernous hallway.
“Sully!”
I turn and find Eli, in a suit, standing next to Dixie. And next to her is Sadie. She’s staring back at me with those beautiful light blue eyes. Her expression is indifferent, though, and that kind of stings. I don’t know what I expected; after all, I shut us down before we even began.
“Hey, Eli.” I nod. “Coming up to the box? Hello, Dixie. Sadie.”
Dixie waves. Sadie pauses a moment. “Hi, Griffin.”
Eli’s dark brown eyes pinch for a minute, but then he smiles. “Right! You met Sadie at the hospital.”
“Yes,” I reply, and my eyes move back to her. The air is heavy between us with unsaid things, and Eli seems to be picking up on it as his brow furrows again. Sadie snaps the tension with a simple shrug of her shoulders. “I’m going into the lounge. Later!”
Dixie kisses Eli’s cheek, waves at me again, and follows her sister.
I stare after them until I can’t see Sadie anymore. Eli, still looking confused, says, “Ready to head upstairs?”
