Every time I glanced up, Drew was focused on his screen with that same hurt expression lingering around his eyes. And every time I saw it, the guilt in my chest got a little heavier.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
“You’re right,” I said quietly, focusing on his face, desperate for him to look at me and see the sincerity in my eyes. “I have noticed. But it’s hard to wrap my head around you changing that drastically in such a short amount of time.”
Drew stopped typing. When he finally met my gaze, his expression was still wary, but the hurt had faded.
“That’s fair,” he said after a moment. “I need to apologize too. For everything I’ve done to you in the past. The music building thing, all the pranks…I was an ass.”
I blinked, caught off guard. This wasn’t the Drew Iknew—the one who deflected everything with jokes or shrugs. And this didn’t feel like a ploy to get my guard down either. This felt real.
And it reminded me of a boy I’d once believed a long time ago.
“You expect me to believe you’re not going to pull some childish prank ever again?” I asked, but there was less bite in it than usual. More curiosity than accusation. There might’ve been the slightest bit of hope in there too.
His smile was small but genuine, and it did weird things to my stomach. “Well…maybe not never, but having a daughter changes a guy’s perspective. I’d put any guy in the ground who tormented my girl.”
The way he said “my girl”—protective and fierce—made butterflies take off in my stomach as a sharp pain of need hit me. I swallowed hard, hating that for just the tiniest moment, my heart ached wondering what it would be like to be his girl.
To be someone Drew Dumontier would protect instead of torment.
TWENTY-ONE
The puck dropped, but all I could hear was Rory’s cry echoing in my head—and I didn’t notice the play until it was already past me.
Foster won it clean, but the pass slid right under my stick at the blue line, and Colorado State’s top winger was gone. This was the biggest game of our season so far, and my focus needed to be on the ice. Instead, I was consumed with the memory of Rory screaming her head off when I left her with Sam.
Nothing I’d tried had worked to calm her down. I was almost late getting to the rink because the look she gave me as I left her nearly made me say “fuck it” and quit hockey right then and there.
How the hell did parents leave their kids with strangers? I mean, Sam wasn’t even a stranger and I felt like I’d left my heart at the house, and my head was a goddamn mess over it.
What if something was really wrong with her and I’d just left her again like I had last time?
For what? A hockey game I was failing at miserably? I’dprobably do a better service to my team at this point if I wasn’t here at all.
The next shift didn’t go any better. Foster won the draw back to me, but my pass sailed wide—straight over our winger’s stick and onto Colorado State’s blade. They jumped on it instantly, charging back into our zone.
“Christ, Monty,” Liam called as we scrambled back, his Irish accent thicker with frustration. “You trying out for their team now?”
The entire first period was a disaster. I missed an easy assignment and left their center wide open. Gordy had to make a miracle save. Then I fucked up a clearing attempt on our power play and gave them the puck right back. Liam threw himself in front of their shot, and when he got back up, his jaw was clenched tight, and he was shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“What the fuck is going on with you? You’re playing like this is your first time on the ice,” he asked during a line change, his usual cool replaced by frustrated concern.
“Rory was crying nonstop when I left and I’m worried about her.”
He let out a heavy sigh. “Drew, I love you like a brother, but you gotta focus on the ice right now. Sam’s got her. She’s fine. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to leave her with a babysitter. She’ll survive. Stop worrying and get your head in the game. We have to win this one.”
I knew he was right, but it was also clear he didn’t understand. I didn’t think it was possible to change so abruptly, but being thrust into fatherhood had changed me on a fundamental level. Yeah, this game was important, but it wasn’t life or death. If something happened to my daughter…I couldn’t even think about it without panic slicing through my chest.
We made it out of the first tied 1-1. Foster scored on some beautiful individual shit, but Coach cornered me the second we hit the locker room.
“Drew,” he said, his voice firm but not angry. “I need you here. This team needs you here. What’s going on with you tonight? This is even worse than the game against Denver Tech. I’ve never seen you play this bad, not even in junior league.”
“I’m fine, Coach.”
“You’re not fine. If you were, you wouldn’t look like someone handed a hockey stick to Bambi out there.” He gripped the pads on my shoulders. “I need to know if you can do this, or if I need to bench you.”
The guys were all staring at me, waiting for my response.
