“Yes, it’s all that,” I choked out. “All that and a bit more.”
“Please don’t leave. If you go, who will save Sophie?”
My gut cramped. I removed my hand from the panel of red buttons. My arm fell to my side.
“I’m not running from her. I would never do that. It was just…” I blew out a breath. How much about me did this man know? Should I tell him that I was freshly out of my fourth stint in rehab? Would he blanch or recoil as many did when they found out I was an alcoholic? Would he forbid me from seeing Sophie after the surgery? Suddenly the need to watch her grow and flourish seemed to be the most important thing in the world. For that to happen, I had to be honest about myself. I drew in a deep breath. “I was having a moment of weakness. I’m a recovering alcoholic and the past few days have been quite auf den Kopf gestellt.” He blinked at my German. “Topsy turvy.” His big blue eyes fluttered nervously. Perhaps I had revealed too much. “If you’re upset about my addiction…”
“No, I… no, of course not. Well, perhaps a little, but you’re recovered, right?”
Sophie held out her eagle to me. “Kiss da bird.”
A chuckle burst out of me as I took a step, then bent down to peck Eddie on his yellow beak. That made her laugh and something fundamental inside me unfurled like a flower opening to the sun. I’d never heard a sound as sweet as Sophie’s laughter.
“I’ll be recovering forever. I hope you won’t hold that against me?” I asked Isaac as Sophie was dropping loud smacker kisses all over the Rebels mascot.
“If you won’t hold it against me for keeping us in a hotel for a few days. You seem like a nice man, but I don’t know you from Adam. I have to keep her safe.”
“Of course, you do.” I wanted to hug them both. Sophie for simply being Sophie and Isaac because… well, I wasn’t sure why. Maybe to show him that I was a nice man. A weak man, yes, but a nice one. Perhaps I wished to hold him because he looked wan and terrified. Or maybe I simply wanted to feel the press of his lithe, hard body against mine. It had been many years since I’d been with a man. Women were simply easier to locate when one was a professional athlete. But this man… there was something about him that was wildly appealing. “Stay where you wish. My home will be open to you whenever you feel comfortable.”
“Dadda, bird hunny,” Sophie announced. Isaac nodded.
“The bird is hungry, which means that she’s hungry,” he explained.
“I read online that they have a wonderful cafeteria here. Would you like to get some lunch?” I offered. “My treat.”
“Okay, thank you. We’re kind of living off the generosity of strangers until I can get back to work,” he shamefacedly explained.
“Work must come second to a child’s health.” I gave him a smile, then had to kiss the bird again. “Let me tell them that we’re taking a lunch break now.”
“What if they get mad?” He glanced back at the door to the conference room.
I shrugged. “Then they’ll get mad. My daughter is hungry.”
Isaac stared up at me with round eyes filled with worry.
My daughter was hungry. And as her poppa, it was my place to feed her. Looking into eyes the exact same color as mine, I found a strength I wasn’t aware of before. That of a parent who would do whatever was needed to protect his child.
His child. My child. My daughter…
Lunch had been quite the experience. We’d dined on chicken nuggets dipped in ketchup, tater tots dipped in ketchup, and pink milk, which I discovered was strawberry milk. I do not like strawberry milk I discovered, but it seemed that Sophie loved it. And ketchup.
Isaac had been withdrawn as we’d eaten. Which was understandable. His life was just as chaotic as mine was now, plus he had the burden of caring for a sick child. As we ate, I did the most talking, relaying about my life growing up in Switzerland, what it was like to move from the National League—which is the premier league in my home country—to the NHL where I’d played for Tampa Bay for many years. A shadow moved over Isaac’s face when I spoke about Florida.
I hesitated to mention his sister still. How would I ever explain? When I’d been shown an image of the pretty young thing, there was no recognition at all. Which had made me sick with anger and regret. Which had led to me wishing I had a drink to dull the shame.
So that was why I was now sitting outside Faneuil Hall watching kids running by in tricorn hats while adults chattered on about the Trail of Freedom and waiting for the nearby Methodist Church to open its doors. There was an AA meeting in the basement at seven p.m., which I felt I had better attend. My demon had poked me twice today after being silent for quite a few months.
I scanned the crowds looking for a man. I’d spoken to the husband of the fellow I was to meet here and have sit by my side as I waded into my first group meeting. His name was Dan Arou, and he’d been an incredibly affable guy who talked at length about his own problems with painkillers when he’d been playing. I knew the name Arou well, as he’d just retired a year or so ago. As for his husband, well, I knew that name too. I caught the flash of bright red hair as the Venomous Pole weaved his way from the marketplace to me carrying two drinks in bright green cups.
“You stick out like a sore dick. Just saying that if you think you’re incognito, you’re not. I knew you were Joachim Löfgren a mile away and all the fans do too. You can’t scam Boston sports fans. Trust me. I know from whence I speak,” Victor Kalinski said as he dropped his lanky ass beside me on the city bench. Sighing heartily, I removed my Rebels cap and sunglasses. “Have an iced tea. It’s not half bad. Not enough sugar, but I’m trying to cut back. Old man has diabetes and I’m fond of my toes. So, you’re a drunk. Me too.”
“Thank you.” I took the drink from Vic and took a sip. It was cold, refreshing, and sadly lacking gin. “Your husband was very nice.”
Vic smiled. “Yeah, he is. Everyone says he’s a few bricks shy of a load to be hooked up with me.” His gaze went skyward. I glanced upward and saw nothing but twilight settling over Boston. “Sometimes I wonder why he puts up with me, but then I recall that I have a massive dick, and it all makes sense.” He jammed an elbow into my side and sniggered. “So, now that I broke the ice, tell me why you called for help. Been feeling the itch since you got out of rehab?”
“No, actually I had been doing well, but the past week has been…” I fumbled around for a fitting term.
“A shit fest of biblical proportions?”
I glanced at the man on my left. He had sharp hazel eyes and a long pointy nose that fit his long face well. His red hair gleamed copper and gold in the setting sun.
“That will do.” I paused to sip and reflect. “Yes, that about covers it well.”
“Yeah, we all have them wicked bad days. That’s why we work the program.” He poked at his drink with his straw. “Want to go into the particulars of your crappy week or do you just want to sit here and watch the seagulls shit on the tourists?”
“It wasn’t so much that it was bad, it was just… intense.” I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to tell this man to be honest. I knew little about him other than he had played hockey for a bit and had retired after a brain injury. Oh, and that he was an alcoholic. Like me. “I found out I had a daughter recently.”