That was an understatement.
The front door banged open again, and Ava burst in with so many shopping bags she looked like she’d mugged a Target delivery truck. “Mom, I thought you were exaggerating when you said you’d bought out all the local baby boutiques,” she said as she dropped the bags on the ground.
Ava moved closer to Mom. “She’s even cuter in person, right? Like a tiny grumpy Drew but adorable instead of annoying.”
“Thanks for that,” I muttered.
While Ava unpacked groceries and baby supplies thatcould stock a small department store, my dad and I put together the crib my parents had bought. They’d insisted on helping me out, and I wasn’t going to turn down their generosity.
“Oh, this fits perfectly,” Mom said, straightening a stuffed animal in the crib. When she faced me, the expression on her face made my chest tight. “I’m proud of you, Drew. I know this isn’t what you planned, but even in the few hours we’ve been here, I’ve seen how much you love on that baby girl.”
My voice was hoarse. “Thanks, Mom.” I’d been bracing for a lecture about responsibility or suggestions that I couldn’t handle this, but they’d completely surprised me. “That means a lot.”
“You’re doing the right thing,” Dad said quietly. “Stepping up. That’s what matters.”
Emotion clogged my throat. “Thanks, Dad.”
They stayed for dinner, my mom insisting on cooking for all of us, and as scared as I was that I might fuck up this whole dad thing, I now felt confident that I wouldn’t mess it up too badly. Not with this many people in my corner.
FOURTEEN
The sound of skates cutting across ice and the sharp crack of sticks hitting pucks usually centered me, but tonight my head was completely elsewhere. Even as I settled into my defensive position for the opening face-off, watching Foster line up against Denver Tech’s center, all I could think about was Rory.
She’d been crying when I left her with Ava an hour ago. That red-faced, hiccupping kind of crying that made my chest feel tight. I’d fed her, changed her, bounced her around the living room for twenty minutes, but nothing worked.
What if something was really wrong? What if she was sick and I just left?
Foster won the draw cleanly back to me, but my pass up the ice was garbage—sailing wide of our winger and right into a Denver Tech stick. They immediately turned it back toward our zone.
“Fuck, Drew!” Liam barked as we both scrambled back. “What the hell was that?”
“Just rusty,” I muttered, but that wasn’t it. I kept scanning the stands like Ava might magically appear with Rory, even though I knew she was back at the house probably losing her mind trying to figure out why babies cried for no fucking reason.
The first period was a nightmare. I missed an easy defensive assignment, leaving their forward wide open in front of Gordy. Only a miracle save kept it from being 1-0. Then I completely whiffed on a clearing attempt, sending the puck right to their power play unit. Liam had to cover for me again, throwing himself in front of a one-timer that probably would’ve broken his ribs if he hadn’t been wearing pads.
By some miracle, we went into the first intermission tied 1-1. Foster had scored on a beautiful individual effort, and Gordy was playing out of his mind to keep us even.
“What’s going on out there, Dumontier?” Coach Maxwell barked as soon as the locker room door closed. “You’re playing like you’ve never been on defense before.”
“I’m fine, Coach. Just need to settle in.”
“Settle in?” His eyebrows shot up. “Since when have you needed extra time to get your head in the game?”
The guys were all staring at me, and I wanted to disappear into my gear. “I’ll be better in the second.”
“You better be. Liam can’t cover for both of you out there.”
The second period wasn’t much better. Every shift, my brain kept wandering. Was Rory still upset? Had Ava figured out what was wrong? What kind of dad leaves his crying baby to play hockey?
We managed to take the lead 2-1 when Foster set up one of our wingers on a beautiful passing play, but DenverTech tied it back up on a power play. A power play that happened because I took another stupid penalty—interference for finishing a hit two seconds after the puck was gone. It was a dumb fucking move and one I never would’ve made if my head wasn’t elsewhere.
“Seriously?” Liam asked as I sat in the box. “What the hell, Drew?”
I watched helplessly as they moved the puck around our zone, Liam and the penalty kill unit scrambling to cover. Gordy made three huge saves to keep it tied, but I could see the frustration on everyone’s faces.
Going into the third tied 2-2, I knew I was hanging by a thread.
“Get your shit together,” Liam said during a line change, his voice low and intense. “I can’t play defense for both of us. I know you’ve got a lot going on, but we need you here.”
