Hope bloomed in my chest. He wasn’t demanding anything from me, not taking over, although he had the biological right to make decisions for Sophie. What if he’d been religious and didn’t believe in intervention? What if he’d died? What if… what if he wanted to take her from me?
If he saves her life, then I don’t care.
For months, I’d cried from losing my parents, my grief magnified by the media who circled the tragedy of Hurricane Wilma like vultures. For days, I’d cried for Ashley as I held her hand and willed her to live, wondering how I’d ever come to terms with being alone. Then when they told me about Sophie, I allowed myself an hour of anger, horror, and grief, and decided that for her, I had to rise above all of that and not let the grief at a bleak future consume me. My life mantra was that I’ll find a way to cross bridges when I reach them.
Joachim was a bridge. That was all.
“Do you like it here?” he asked, and I was thrown for a moment.
“It’s a nice suite,” I said.
“I’ve spent a lot of time in hotels when I’ve been playing.” He sighed. “Hockey I mean.”
“I know what you meant.”
“They’re not home.” He stared out the window again. “I have two spare rooms, a yard, and I’m close to water. It’s not much. I’m not… I don’t have a lot left from before, addiction breeds addiction, and I lost most of it.” He grimaced, burying his face in his hands. “But I earn good money. I’ll pay for anything she needs, and I would love it if you decided to come and live in my place, so I can get to know my daughter properly. I have a car you can use, and I’ve already opened an account for you and her, so you have money. It’s not paying you or anything, there’s no catch, although the Rebels’ lawyer is having kittens. I don’t care about all of that. Please move into my home. Even though it’s not much, it’s a cool place, and you’d have it to yourself most of the time. I won’t be around much when I’m training and playing… if I can play.” He turned to face me. “I need to have an injection of a growth factor.”
That was a quick switch in conversation. “G-CSF,” I confirmed. The drug was to encourage the stem cells to move from the bone marrow into the blood, and he would need injections for a few days leading up to the collection, which was penciled in with a date already.
“Yeah, the doctor said it mobilizes the stem cells. The Rebels’ doctor is working with the donor team, and I went to an AA meeting today. So, please can I get to know Sophie? Will you come home with me?”
I waited for more, but clearly, he’d finally run out of the arguments he’d obviously rehearsed before he got here.
“You went to an AA meeting?”
“Yeah, I have a sponsor. He’s a retired hockey player who won’t take any shit. I hit rock bottom, and I know you don’t know me from Adam, but I want to work the steps for myself, make myself whole again, learn to live with the addiction, and be a good dad for Sophie.”
I needed to do research on AA because I was sure there were rules about forming attachments or was that just to other addicts? He didn’t say he was sober only for Sophie, he said he was working to be sober so he could be there for her. My heart hurt for him, and for Sophie, and I didn’t want to be in a hotel, not really.
Maybe he’d shown me enough honesty for me to trust him, and I should trust my instincts. He was so earnest, handsome. I couldn’t help my libido. I’d always been attracted to jocks with their focus and strength, but it wasn’t that part of my body that spoke for me right now.
It was my heart.
“Come and pick us up in the morning. We’ll be ready.”
And his smile was a beautiful, peaceful thing.
Chapter Six
Joachim
It was amazing what a little cash and a well-known name could do.
By eight o’clock the next morning there were painters in my house. Two teams. One was fixing that terrible yellow living room ceiling—and freshening up the walls with some eggshell white—and the other was giving the blue bedroom a new coat of pale cream. As they scurried around throwing drop cloths onto the floor, I knocked back a protein shake and some scrambled eggs with rye toast with haste. I had morning skate to attend to first off, and then I was to pick up Isaac and Sophie at eleven. To bring them home. To my home. My daughter and her cute uncle.
It was kind of silly how bubbly with excitement my stomach was. Today was a big day, and while I knew I was riding a high, I also had to keep life in perspective. For every sunny day, there were rainy ones. Life was all about finding and maintaining that balance. I made a note in my online day planner to attend a meeting tonight, then I left the house in the capable hands of the painters that Xander had recommended. The Rebels chatroom was a true lifesaver.
As I drove to the barn, my radio was set to a talk radio show where the people had such thick Boston accents, I had trouble deciphering some of what they were saying, my thoughts went to Xander and Brady. This morning, we were choosing a new team captain. I felt oddly out of sorts being asked to participate in the selection. I’d been here for a month, had played four preseason games, and had finally gotten the nametag over my cubicle spelled correctly. Someone kept forgetting the umlaut over the O in my last name. I wasn’t sure a player who had just gotten his umlaut should be picking the captain, but the team had insisted. It felt off to me to pick the replacement for the man I had replaced. But that was hockey. And I was lucky to have been given this second chance. To be fair it was more like a tenth or eleventh chance given all my issues over the years. Tampa Bay had been extremely understanding for many years but even they had reached the end of their rope with me and my addiction problems. Which was also totally justified.
What I knew of either man was limited to ice time and a few social gatherings, such as awards and fundraisers. The old captain, Brady Rowe, had always been an upstanding man both on and off the ice. His brother Jamie spoke well of him in the locker room back down in Tampa, and the family was hockey through and through. Xander was an enjoyable sort, calm and cool, always willing to talk to his teammates and offer advice.
Parking in my appointed slot next to Marquis and his sleek new red Jaguar, I stared at the rink as the morning sun glinted off the mirrored sides. Was there anything prettier than a hockey rink?
Your daughter.
“Okay, yes, true.” With a smile on my face, I hustled into the players’ entrance, took a moment to speak with the security guard at the door, and then was swooped down upon by the team owner, who was wearing a white linen shirt, tan pants, and a hat with a wide white band.
“There you are!” Nick shouted and several heads turned. I gave Renco and Austin a confused look as Sinclair threw an arm around my shoulder. Or tried. He wasn’t quite as blessed in the height department as I was. “So how are we feeling? Good? Any side effects from the super solider serum they’re giving you?”
“I, uhm… the injections start—”
“Good! Good. Listen… can you hunker down a bit? There you go. So, I have a favor to ask of you. Rumor has it that your daughter and her uncle are moving into your house.”