by KL Donn
Sometimes it feels like we live on alternate planes in the same universe. I’m the same age, I’m single, and a hockey player, but that’s where the similarities end.
Raising a daughter is a huge responsibility, and not just physically and financially. In an I’m-trying-to-raise-a-strong-empowered-woman way. I’m a role model for her. Even now, she notices things I never expected a kid to notice. The way she sees me treat women is how she’ll think she deserves to be treated by men in the future.
I can’t just go around fucking women. And if I find someone I want to be with, it doesn’t mean I’ll bring her home to meet Paige right away. I have a vetting period. The last thing I want is for her to get attached to someone and then we break up and she leaves her life forever. I’d rather be alone than do that to her.
And though I’m happy to be in the comfortable company of my boys again, a part of me is excited to get back to Paige—and Emma. It’s a complete 180 from how I felt about her when I reluctantly hired her.
After seeing how great she’s been with Paige over the last few days, my early opinion that she’s a snobby know-it-all, is morphing. She’s actually a badass kid-whisperer. The mindset change has brought life into my cock. Instead of engage in parenting battles, I want to get close to her.
And it scares me because she’s only here for the money—just like Danica.
It’s ignorant to make the comparison, because it’s a completely different situation, but it’s something I need to keep in mind. It’s been a long time since I got excited about someone and I have to think about the future before I let my mind run wild with crazy fantasies.
12
SYLVAIN
Except for the first day, where the team doctors conduct physicals and the coaching staff assesses all of us, training camp is open to the public.
There are always some die-hard Chargers fans who make the trip to check us out before the season starts. There are a few fan-centric events planned, like the Charity Golf Tournament we had on the first day and the Alumni hockey game yesterday, that really make it a great experience for fans to get involved and have fun. It’s a low key few days—much different from the mental and physical grind of the season.
Today is the fourth day of training camp—Black and Red game day—where we divide into two teams and play against each other for the fans.
Emma and Paige haven’t made it to the rink to watch me yet. I know they’ve been having a blast exploring Raleigh and the surrounding areas because I’ve heard about it every day after practice—at great length.
But I assumed they would have been here to see me by now.
It’s my own fault since I never told Emma I wanted her to bring Paige to the rink. I’m used to Mom, who knew I loved having Paige here. I want her to see what I do for work. I want her to be proud of me. The more she sees me at work, the more she’ll understand I’m not leaving her because I want to, but because it’s part of my job.
At least, I hope that’s her takeaway. Raising a kid is hard. Most of the time I take it day-by-day, but sometimes I have these flashes that freak me out. I’ll toss and turn in bed wondering how what I’m teaching her is shaping her for the future. Knowing I’m responsible for how another human will interact with the world someday is fucking frightening.
Maybe Emma thinks she needs to keep Paige out of my hair while I’m working. I make a mental note to discuss it with her. She can’t read my mind. She won’t know my expectations if I never make them clear.
Instead of the minor gripe, I should be happy Emma can keep my hyper daughter busy and in line. Though it’s been a busy week and I haven’t had much time to observe Emma, from what I have seen, she’s absolutely wonderful with her.
Paige has behaved better than I’ve ever seen her with anyone. Part of me was worried to bring someone into our life—especially someone who’s been vocal about how much better I could be as a parent.
That’s why I’m happily surprised when I look up into the stands and see Emma and Paige climbing the stairs to sit on benches near center ice.
Even with a gray beanie and a matching scarf covering half of her face, Emma’s still rocket. Fiery, red hair tumbles out from under the cap and onto her shoulders. Sometimes it’s hard to keep my thoughts completely professional when my body responds to her like it does. Especially when we’re only a few feet apart and I’m looking into her bright green eyes.
Suddenly, Paige jumps up and climbs onto the bench. “Daddy!” she yells, waving frantically. “Hi, Daddy!”
My heart soars hearing her calling my name. I smile and wave back at my little girl. Then I lift my glove to my mouth and send her a kiss.
“Is that the nanny?” Blake asks, shaking me from my daze with an elbow to my chest.
“Yup.” I’m grateful for Paige’s distraction because I probably looked creepy staring at Emma. I hadn’t expected her to look that sexy wrapped in a scarf.
“Damn!”
The ref blows the whistle, interrupting our conversation. Blake and I skate into position, lining up for the faceoff.
My head must still be on Emma, because I completely fuck up the play, turning the puck over in my own end to Pearson who sails it past our backup goalie.
Fuck.
“Bergeron! Get your ass over here!” Mac screams.
I skate to the bench immediately and climb over the boards.
“I’m sorry, I must’ve missed the memo that said you were the Chargers new head coach,” he says, pretending to search in the tiny, spiral notebook he clutches during games as I skate past him. “When I call ‘over’ you get in position for over. I didn’t say ‘up.’ How fucking hard is it to follow the play I call?”
Mac’s evil eye is so intimidating, it’s famous. Anyone who’s ever been on the receiving end will tell you the same.
“Come on, Mac! He was skating toward me. My side flooded before he even got the pass off,” I argue, banging the knob of my stick on the ground between my skates.
First mistake: Not listening to the play Mac called.
Second Mistake: Talking back to him.
Third Mistake: Throwing my defense partner under the bus.
I hate baseball with a passion, but I still know what three strikes means.
“I’m gonna let the bullshit slide one time, Bergie. One time. And that’s only because it’s the first week back from summer vacation. But know this—I don’t care what kind of record-breaking season you had last year, you’re already pissing me off and you need to clean up quick or I’ll have you on the next flight to Montreal.”
“Quebec City,” Kravtsov corrects him as he jumps over the boards and onto the ice.
Such a dirty dickbag.
It takes everything I have not to laugh, but I keep a straight face because as much as I love and look up to Mac—he has rigid standards and a hot temper, and I can absolutely see him booking me a ticket home.
“What the hell is wrong with you fuckers today?” Coach chucks his notepad to the ground and stomps away.
Rolling my head from shoulder to shoulder, I shake out the frustration and focus my attention back to the ice. Time to regain my composure before Mac pairs me with our third line D-man. Now isn’t the time to think about hooking up with my kid’s nanny. In fact, I need to remember that there’s never a time to think about hooking up with her.
“You don’t remember difference between up and over? Those are plays you should’ve learned in midget, Bergie,” Nik teases as he skates over.
“Fuck off,” I mutter, sliding my ass across the bench to make room for him.
Nik and I were drafted in the same year and despite coming from different backgrounds and countries, we came up through the Chargers farm team together and got called up to the NHL around the same time. We’ve practically grown up together in our hockey careers.
I glance at Mac, who was still scowling and talking animatedly with his hands, but at least he’s not taking his anger out on that poor notebook.
“You coming out for dinner tonight?” Nik asks before tipping his head back and squeezing water in to his mouth.
“I gotta check with the nanny,” I tell him, glancing into the crowd where Emma and Paige were sitting a few minutes ago. The seats they once occupied are empty, but I’m not surprised or concerned. Paige can’t sit still.
He tosses the green water bottle to the floor. “How have you not hit that yet, Bergie?”
The hair on the back of my neck bristles. “Because I need childcare more than I need pussy.”
“Understandable.” He looks out onto the ice. “I should warn you, Vitya has his eye on her.”
Because I hang around the Russians all the time, I know “Vitya” is what Viktor’s family calls him. Russians have a specific process for names and nicknames. It’s pretty cool, but also very cultural. I would never call Viktor “Vitya” no matter how close we ever got.
“What does that mean?”
“He made a comment about wanting to check your nanny with his dick.”
“Fuck that.” I glance at the ice, watching Kravtsov hustle to the puck.
It’s not my place to tell Emma who she can or can’t talk to, but it’s definitely in my wheelhouse to keep a dickbag like Kravtsov away from her.
13
EMMA
When I read the Chargers training camp schedule online a few days ago, it said today would be Black and Red game day. Since I don’t know much about hockey, coming to watch Sylvain play in a game seemed to be the best way to jump in. Watching a practice sounds pretty damn boring—something for hard-core fans.
“Is that where Daddy works?” Paige asks from the backseat. I look out the window, trying to figure out where she’s looking. According to the GPS, the arena should be around here somewhere, but I haven’t found it yet.
Sure enough, there’s a huge rectangular shaped building with a peak in the middle.
“Good eye, Paige,” I respond, glancing at her in the rearview mirror and turning into the parking lot. As we get closer, the details emerge—life-size, see-through images of Chargers players fill the windows.
“Do you go to a lot of Daddy’s games?”
“Yeah. They’re pretty boring.”
“Well, we’ll watch him for a bit and then head for the beach if it gets too boring.”
After four days with the Bergeron’s, I’m starting to get the feel of their dynamic. I’ve already observed Sylvain’s contradicting parenting methods. If Paige gets upset, he either enhances her frustration by engaging her or he gives in to her to keep her quiet. Though, I can’t quite figure out how he selects the hill he’s going to die on or the one he’ll give into.
Either way, it just causes confusion and frustration for both of them. I still think Paige wins most of the time, because he’s tired and doesn’t have help, and, well, it’s easier to give in. The girl has him wrapped around her finger. And if I remember correctly from interactions I witnessed at Explorer, the grandma was no disciplinarian either.
Paige has always been one of my favorite kids. She’s a firecracker who needs to be reined in and a complete and total love bug. So, technically, she has me wrapped around her finger, too.
Her personality alone is enough to fall in love, but she also knows my expectations. She knows what I will and won’t accept. So far, she’s been really good about following the rules—well, as good as any four-year-old. But she hasn’t been a complete terror or anything—at least not yet.
When we arrive at the arena, I grab the backpack full of snacks and stuff for Paige to play with, grab her hand and walk to the entrance. As soon as we get through the green double doors, we’re stopped by a man who works at the rink.
“Do you already have tickets or do you need to buy them?” he asks.
“Tickets?” I ask confused. I thought watching hockey team’s training camp would be free. Especially for the kid of one of the Chargers players.
He smiles. “Head on over there to the ticket counter and they’ll hook you up.”
“Yeah, um,” I twist my lips, trying to think of how to get out of paying since I have exactly zero dollars in my bank account. “This is Sylvain Bergeron’s daughter. I’m his nanny. Do we still have to pay?”
He cocks his head, probably contemplating if I’m telling the truth or not. “If that’s true, then you’re probably on the VIP list. Go on over to the ticket counter and they’ll check.”
“Oh! Okay. Perfect.” I pull Paige toward the ticket booth. “Thanks so much.”
Sure enough. I’m on the list. Which is exciting in itself because I’ve never been on a VIP list before. Driving BMW’s, being on VIP lists, I didn’t expect these kinds of perks, but they sure are nice. I could get spoiled being Paige’s nanny.
When we enter the rink, I’m surprised at how small the seating area is. It’s nothing like the Chargers arena, which I’ve been to for multiple concerts—but no hockey games.
Paige finds us an open seat on a bench about halfway up right in the middle of the rink. As soon as we sit down, she breaks open the backpack of stuff we brought and pulls out a coloring book. Anything to keep her occupied.
I turn my attention to the ice to look for Sylvain. As I scan the players, I realize I don’t even know his number. Then as if pulled by some unknown force, I catch a glimpse of two guys looking my way. The seats aren’t far from the ice, so it’s easy to tell Sylvain is one of them. They’re standing next to each other talking between themselves. Probably discussing the plan for the next play, I tell myself.
Still, heat rises to my cheeks, flustered by their gaze, so I think of something to take my mind off of it.
“Look, Paige!” I say, elbowing her softly. When she looks up, I point to the ice. “There’s Daddy.”
She jumps up quickly and climbs onto the bench. “Daddy!” she yells, waving frantically. “Hi, Daddy!”
If the two guys weren’t looking at us before, they definitely are now. Along with everyone else in the rink.
Sylvain breaks into a grin and waves back at his little girl. Then he lifts his glove to his mouth and sends her a kiss. Watching Sylvain with Paige melts my heart.
Though we take a few breaks to stretch our legs and get some energy out, Paige watches most of the game. Being at the game is great because she can stand up, dance, and yell. What more does a kid need?
And hockey is actually a pretty fun game to watch—action packed and fast.
When the clock hits zero, a horn sounds and people start getting up from their seats. I turn to Paige and ask, “Is that it? There isn’t another quarter?”
She looks up from the purple unicorn she’s coloring and shakes her head. “Periods, Emma. There are three periods in hockey.”
Schooled by a four-year-old.
I don’t have much time to think about the burn, because Sylvain skates to the glass and taps it to get Paige’s attention. “Hey, sweet girl!”
She runs down the stairs and puts her hand up trying to get him to give her a high-five through the glass.
“You wanna come out and skate with me?” he asks, holding his arms out as if he can pick her up and pull her over the high plexiglass.
She shakes her head. “I’m coloring this amazing unicorn and it needs my full attention.”
He cocks his head, then lifts his eyes to me. I can’t tell if he’s more surprised by her vocabulary or her reaction—choosing to chill out over getting on the ice with him. Normally, she’s a running around like a puppy chasing her own tail. “Are you guys getting hungry?”
My stomach growls as if on cue. “Yes. Paige had some snacks, but I haven’t eaten since lunch.”
He sniffs and swipes sweat off the tip of his nose with the back of his glove. “We’re done for today. Do you want to grab an early dinner?”
I tuck my hair behind my ear, shifting nervously from foot to foot as if he’s asking me on a date. Which, for the record, I know he isn’t. There’s something different about seeing him out there on the ice. He’s al
l sweaty and sexy with hair curling out of the back of his helmet. Makes me wonder how I’d never been a hockey fan before.
“Yeah. I’m sure Paige will love that. We’ll wait out here for you.”
“Cool. I’ll shower and be back out soon.” He winks before skating away.
Did he mean to wink? Maybe it wasn’t a real wink Maybe there was sweat dripping into his eye and he was trying to blink it away.
Ever since I saw him naked, the vibe changed. It’s not loud, more like white noise—humming in the background, but not really noticeable unless you’re listening for it.
After the game, we decided to grab our food to-go because we all look like we’re about to face-plant into our meals. Paige actually does fall asleep on the ride home.
“You guys must’ve had a big day,” he says, checking out his daughter in the rearview mirror.
“Shhh.” I hold my finger to my lips. The last thing I need is for her to wake up and get a second wind.
The last few days have been more activity than I’m used to and I’m feeling it. My body aches and I’m exhausted.
Sylvain grants my request and we ride the rest of the way home in comfortable silence.
Once we’re at the condo, he points to Paige then uses two fingers to simulate walking.
I lean in and whisper. “Are we playing charades?”
“You told me not to talk.”
“You can talk, just not loud,” I clarify with a smile.
“Got it.” He nods, then his eyes dart around the car. “Should I carry her in or do you think that will wake her up?”
Being this close and talking to each other in husky hushed voices is making me feel some kind of way. Our faces are inches apart, our breathing in sync.
All I have to do is…
Before I finish the thought, Sylvain leans over the console and places his lips on mine. At first, I think it’s going to be one of those “testing things out” pecks, but it’s not. He lifts his hands to my face, his fingertips soft as he tilts my chin up.