Easy: A Chicago Blaze Hockey Romance Page 3

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, he’s a real prick. But let’s not waste time talking about him. How’s it going with you?”

  “Can’t complain. Kayla and the kids are good, and the rec center is doing well too. We’ve grown enrollment by more than ten percent in the last year.”

  “That’s great.”

  “Yeah, makes me happy to see more kids out there playing sports.” He lowers his brows in question. “Which reminds me, how long are you gonna be here?”

  I shrug. “Originally, a couple weeks. But now, a month, I think.”

  “Good. I was hoping you’d say at least a few weeks. How would you feel about helping me coach the Greentree Falls Rec Center’s Youth hockey team? It’s co-ed. The kids would absolutely love to see you out there on the ice.”

  “Me? I’ve never coached before.”

  “You’d be great. And Kayla said she’ll help out with your mom and aunt while you’re at the rink if you need her to.”

  I laugh. “Sounds like you and your wife got this all figured out, man.”

  “So…you’ll do it?”

  “Of course I will.”

  He clinks his beer bottle against mine, saying, “Thanks, man.”

  “But…I’m the head coach, right? Not an assistant?”

  Cade holds my gaze for a couple seconds, gauging to see if I’m serious, and I burst out laughing.

  “You’re still an asshole,” he mutters.

  “I’m gonna need a whistle.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got your whistle right here.”

  Cade catches me up on the latest in Greentree Falls, not mentioning Allie. I’m always so adamant that people don’t talk about her, but I sometimes wish he’d let something slip and I hate myself for it.

  I find myself secretly hoping she hasn’t gotten married and moved away. As hard as it would be to run into her around town, that would be worse. But Cade never brings her up, and I’ve got too much pride to tell him I’m thinking of her.

  When I drive back to Aunt Jo’s and quietly sneak into her house and onto the couch a couple hours later, though, Allie is still on my mind.

  Four

  Allie

  “I don’t want to see her.” Hazel stares out the passenger window of my car, her tone flat.

  I sigh softly. “I get it. I’m really not that crazy about her visiting, either. But she never stays long, so at least there’s that.”

  “No.” Hazel turns to face me, her voice brimming with emotion now. “She shows up once a year and makes us take a bunch of pictures with her so she looks like mom of the year on Facebook. I’m not doing it.”

  My heart cracks in half as she furiously wipes her cheeks. Hazel is usually my strong, silent kid. But when it comes to her mother, she’s always been the one who hurts the most.

  Max is pretty indifferent about Jenna—he’s told me many times he doesn’t even think of her as his mom. I’m his mom, he says, and it brings me to tears every time.

  Vi laps up every crumb Jenna feeds her, believing her stories about globetrotting on the arms of successful men. Our therapist told me it’s part of how Vi copes. Being abandoned by your mom is the ultimate kick in the gut, and if Vi believes Jenna is off living a fancy, exciting life, it helps justify her mom not wanting her own children around.

  Hazel pretends to be indifferent like her brother, but she’s not. And when I see the pain on her face over Jenna, I despise my sister for it.

  The twins got an extra-bad break. Jenna got pregnant with them by hooking up with a guy while at a concert in Chicago. When she told our parents about the twin girls she was expecting, she was already four months along and was “pretty sure” the father’s first name was Tim, but that she never asked about his last name.

  At least Max has a dad who loves him. Eli Foust was fifteen when he got Jenna pregnant—the same age she was. He was terrified, and his parents insisted he finish high school. And even when he did, he was honest about not feeling ready to be a full-time father at eighteen. He let my parents—and then me—keep Max, but he’s always paid child support and he spends time with his son every Sunday and sometimes on weeknights.

  “I’m not going to make you do anything,” I tell Hazel. “You don’t have to be in her pictures or spend any time with her.”

  “I don’t want her in our house.”

  “I don’t think she has anywhere else to stay.”

  Hazel shrugs. “Good. Maybe she won’t come, then.”

  “If I tell her not to visit, it’ll be a huge drama. It’s easier to just let her blow into town like a hurricane for a couple days and then blow back out.”

  “Easier for who?” Hazel asks bitterly.

  That stings. Sometimes, even after ten years of doing it on my own, I’m not sure how to handle this parenting thing. Especially now that the girls are teenagers. Their emotions can turn on a dime.

  “Do you want me to tell her not to come?” I ask Hazel as we pull into the parking lot of the Greentree Falls Rec Center.

  “Yes.”

  “What about Vi? She wants her to come.”

  “That’s because she’s a dumbass who doesn’t get what a deadbeat Jenna is.”

  “Language,” I remind her, without much conviction.

  “I don’t want to see her,” Hazel says firmly. “And Addison said I shouldn’t be forced to.”

  The mention of our therapist makes me miss our weekly sessions. My parents left me their entire estate in their will, which wasn’t a fortune, but it was enough for me to stay home and take care of the girls until they started school and pay for several years of family therapy, which was very expensive.

  We stayed in their home after my parents died, because it would have been traumatic to uproot the kids at such young ages after losing my parents, who had always been their primary caregivers. After a couple years, I sold their house and bought a more modest one, leaving enough cash to start college funds for all three of them.

  “I’d never force you to see her.” I rub my forehead, thinking about how to handle this situation. “Why don’t you stay with Kelly and Ross while Jenna is here?”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll have to ask Kelly, but I know she won’t mind.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So I’ll pick you up right here at 5:45 tonight.”

  Hazel lowers her brows in confusion. “You aren’t coming in? You have to be here for the meeting after practice. You said you’d be the team manager, remember? All the parent volunteers are meeting.”

  “Oh, right. Okay, I’ll meet you inside then.”

  She nods, stepping out of the car and retrieving her giant gear bag from the trunk.

  “Have a good practice,” I call out the window as she walks in. “Wear your mouthguard!”

  Hazel waves half-heartedly and gives me the look that means OMG stop embarrassing me.

  I smile, remembering the days I gave my dad that same look.

  Damn, I miss him and my mom so much. They’d know what to do in all the situations with the kids that I struggle with.

  “I need to think about it and let you know,” I tell the kids when those situations arise.

  What that really means is I have no fucking clue, but I’m trying to at least look like I know what I’m doing here.

  They’re good kids, though. Overall, they’re really good. So I must be doing something right.

  * * *

  A little over an hour later, I’m back at the rec center. I used the time between dropping Hazel off and now to get groceries, prep a roast and get it in the oven, and peel potatoes for dinner.

  Every minute counts when you’re a working single parent. I learned early on that if I don’t stay on it during the day, working in small chores when I can, I have to stay up after the kids are in bed and do it, and then I’m dragging the next day. Every day is busy—even most weekends with the kids active in sports.

  And yet, I keep volunteering for stuff I don’t really have time for. But Max o
nly has one year of high school left, and the girls are starting high school next year. I want to be as involved as I can before they all leave the nest.

  As I walk up to the rec center, I pull my hair out of its bun, comb my fingers through it and put on a little lipstick. One good thing about small-town life is that eventually everyone sees you at your worst—running to the gas station to buy 7-Up for a sick kid while in your pajamas or to pick up more paint at the hardware store while covered in streaks from the first gallon.

  We’re all just average, everyday people in Greentree Falls. That’s something I love about my hometown.

  The Greentree Falls Rec Center is a place our community takes pride in. It’s not about making money, but about our kids having a place to play sports and have fun. Fox Foods donated to the recent fundraiser for new flooring, and several of our employees volunteered to help lay the hardwood, which still has that fresh wood smell I love.

  I’m no carpenter, but I carried planks of wood back and forth from the cutting and laying areas, and I made several desserts for the team of volunteers.

  “Hey, Allie,” Forrest Hansen says, touching the brim of his John Deere ball cap.

  He was several years ahead of me in school, but his kids are close to my nephew and nieces’ ages.

  “Hey, are you on pickup duty tonight?” I ask him.

  “Yep. Carrie’s busy getting her hair done.”

  “Good for her. Is Alex playing hockey?”

  “Yeah. What about you, are you here for Max?”

  “No, Hazel.”

  His brows shoot up. “Really?”

  “I think she’s one of three girls playing in the league.”

  “Hey, good for her. Hope she doesn’t get hurt, though. Those boys can be rough.”

  “She’s a tough cookie.”

  Forrest opens the door to the rink, the cool air hitting us as we walk inside. I feel a slight flutter in my stomach, but it’s nowhere near as strong as I felt the first time I walked back into this rink with Max when he took ice skating lessons. The more times I’ve come in over the last decade, the less I associate the rink with Erik.

  I spent so many hours sitting in those stands watching the boy I loved play hockey. A Styrofoam cup of hot chocolate and a bag of popcorn from the rec center concession stand would be my dinner on those evenings. I grew to love the game, cheering as loud as anyone when the Greentree Falls team scored. And more than half the time, it was the hockey prodigy I was in love with getting the puck in the net.

  When he’d remove his face mask after a game and look up in the stands to find me, breaking out in that perfect white smile when he did, I’d melt.

  “Hey guys, we’re gonna huddle up over here,” says Cade Donovan, the Greentree Falls Rec Center director.

  There’s already a small crowd of players, parents and coaches gathered next to the stands. Cade passes papers around and starts talking about what we’ll be doing as parent volunteers.

  I’ve got my head down, half-listening to Cade, and half-reading the scheduled fundraisers I’ll be coordinating.

  Ugh, pizza sales. I always end up just buying all the damn things myself and we eat pizza for weeks.

  “Hey, there he is,” Cade says. “Guys, we’re super lucky to have this guy helping coach our kids for the next month or so. Some of you already know him.”

  There are lots of surprised, happy sounds over whoever Cade’s talking about. I look up to see who it is, and my stomach hits the floor. Erik is walking over to hand Cade a stack of papers. He smiles and starts shaking hands with the parents greeting him.

  I want to run. Hide beneath the stands. If only I could become invisible.

  But at the same time, I can’t stop looking at him. I can still see the boy I fell in love with, but he’s changed so much. His chest and shoulders are wider and his hair is a little longer. His face is more mature.

  When I last saw him, even though he was nineteen, to me he was still a boy. But now, Erik is a man. A breathtakingly handsome one, too.

  His eyes land on me and his smile fades. The hurt hasn’t faded; I can see it in his eyes.

  “Oh, shit,” Cade says. “Guys, I didn’t…”

  He looks back and forth between us with a deer in the headlights expression. I only spare him a glance before I look back at Erik. I just can’t stop staring at him, and his gaze seems frozen on me, too.

  Whispers spread around the group of parents and players, anyone who doesn’t know about the history between Erik and me getting filled in on the spot.

  “Hey,” Hazel says, oblivious to what’s going on as she approaches me.

  “Hey.” I tear my eyes from Erik and force a casual smile.

  My smile drops and my mouth gapes open when I see the purple goose egg on Hazel’s forehead.

  “What happened?” I demand, alarmed.

  “Just a cheap shot by a wuss is all,” she says, shrugging.

  There’s muffled laughter from the parents. I’m not amused, though. I’ve taught Hazel better than to talk that way in front of other adults, especially when they include her coaches.

  “Hazel,” I scold.

  “He’s a wuss, Aunt Allie. That’s not even a swear word.”

  “Sorry, Allie,” Cade says. “I would’ve called you but it happened at the tail end of practice. We got her an ice pack. Hazel, I know you haven’t iced it for twenty minutes yet.”

  Silently, she pushes a bag of ice onto her forehead.

  “I think I need to get her home,” I say, picking up her equipment bag and straining under its weight.

  “You need help?” Forrest asks me.

  “No, I’ve got it, thanks.”

  “I’ll catch up with you later about volunteering,” Cade says.

  I shoot him a dirty look and mutter, “Okay.”

  That felt like an ambush, but Cade is a nice guy. He probably didn’t plan for things to go down that way.

  “I’m fine, we don’t need to leave,” Hazel grumbles as we exit the rink.

  “You have a giant knot on your head.”

  “I’m fine, Aunt Allie. I don’t need the boys thinking I’m a delicate flower or something. I can take a hit. Let’s go back in there.”

  “Not a chance.”

  She sulks the entire walk to the car and during the drive home. I don’t even try to talk to her about it. The truth is, I used her injury as an excuse to get the hell out of there. In my current state of mind, a hangnail would have been sufficient cause to leave immediately.

  Erik was just a few feet from me. I haven’t seen him in ten years—not so much as a googled photo of my ex-turned-famous-NHL-star. I knew it would hurt too much.

  And it did. Seeing him again brought it all back—how much I loved him, how badly I hurt him and how much I still miss him.

  God, do I miss him.

  And he’ll be helping coach Hazel’s team for the next month? How am I going to manage if I have to see him again?

  “Are you okay?” Hazel asks me, dropping her scowl.

  I smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  I am so not fine. But for the kids, I have to put on a good face. I’ll have a nice, long cry with my pillow tonight.

  Five

  Easy

  Aunt Jo glares at me over the rim of her glasses.

  “Don’t sass me, boy. I know what it means to be easy, and you should be ashamed of yourself for earning that nickname.”

  I can’t help but chuckle, which only sharpens her glare. I clear my throat and try to explain.

  “It’s nothing like that, Aunt Jo. It’s because of my initials being E.Z., and because they say I’m easygoing—you know, unflappable on the ice.”

  She shakes her head, unconvinced. “You best be keeping it in your pants until you’ve got a wife. And by the way, when will that be? You’ll be thirty before you know it.”

  Aunt Jo was widowed young. Her husband died of cancer when they were both still in their twenties. She never had children and never remarrie
d. And since my mom is her only sibling and I’m mom’s only child, Aunt Jo has always considered herself a second mom to me. She doesn’t hesitate to tell me what I “should” be doing with my life.

  “Thirty’s not that old,” I tell my aunt.

  She just shakes her head and picks up the newspaper in her lap, scanning it.

  All the open space in her living room is taken up by the hospital bed she rented from a medical supply store. Every morning I help my mom get going first and then we both help Aunt Jo get ready for the day.

  After that, I just sit at the kitchen table, answering their endless questions while they watch The View, both of them chiming in to agree with most everything Whoopi Goldberg says.

  This morning, The View starts in about ten minutes, and I’ve just topped off Mom and Aunt Jo’s coffee cups when my phone rings with a FaceTime call.

  I smile when I see my teammate Alexei’s name on the screen. As I answer the call, I head out to the back patio, sliding the door closed behind me.

  “Hey man,” I say. “What’s going on?”

  “Just living the dream, man. How’s Wisconsin?”

  I grunt in response, and he laughs.

  “That good, huh?”

  “Yeah. I’m helping one of my high school buddies coach youth hockey, so that’s fun.”

  “Cool. Teaching ‘em how to throw a solid punch, I hope?”

  “Of course. Fuck skating and handling the puck, it’s all about your fighting skills. I have the kids recite that at the start of every practice.”

  Alexei nods. “Good man.”

  He’s shirtless, his hair going in about twenty different directions. I squint, trying to look closer at his surroundings.

  “Are you in your apartment in Chicago? Why aren’t you in Kauai?”

  “Yeah, I’m home. Graysen had the vacation time scheduled, but another therapist where she works had her baby a few weeks earlier than her due date, so Graysen has to cover her patients.”

  “And you didn’t want to go without her?” I grin. “Adorable. Does she let you borrow your balls on the weekends, or does she keep them in her purse all the time?”