Stay: A WAGs Novel

by Sarina Bowen

  “The dentist, right?”

  “Good memory. I didn’t say a word when he entered the picture. I thought—Kara is so fucking picky about every goddamn thing. But she knew him in high school, and if she’s brought him into my children’s lives, he must be a good guy. I gave her the benefit of the doubt. But I don’t ever get that with her. Everything I feed them is questioned. I don’t get a say on what school they go to next year, or where they should spend Christmas.”

  “I’m sorry,” Hailey says, stroking my chest. “You’re such a good dad. They’re lucky to have you.”

  “I do okay,” I mumble. I’ve whined enough already.

  She raises herself on one elbow. “I’m not kidding. You’re the best kind of parent. You listen when they talk. You don’t correct every little thing that comes out of their mouths. You just appreciate them.”

  “That’s what anyone would do.”

  “Not true.”

  There’s something vehement in her tone that gives me pause. “Sore spot?”

  She snorts. “Maybe. My mother spent every day of my childhood making sure I knew I’d already let her down. My dad left when I was five, and she told me it was my fault.”

  I sit up fast. “What the fuck, Hailey? Who says that to a child?”

  “I know.” Her smile is wan. “Maybe I don’t have the parenting bar set very high. But you’re good with them, Matt. Don’t ever let her convince you otherwise.”

  Flopping back on the bed, I let out a grunt. “The co-parenting thing is hard.”

  “I know,” she says quietly. “I can’t even imagine the stresses it adds. What did you say to your girls when you moved out?”

  “Well…” I try not to think about that day if I can help it. “Kara sat ’em down and told them, ‘Our family will work better if Daddy lives somewhere else.’ And I just kinda sat there and nodded, like that made any sense at all. I think she got it out of a parenting book on divorce. The girls weren’t even three, though. And I already traveled so often that I’m not sure it sunk in for a while.”

  That whole month is a blur to me now. But it still hurts, goddamn it. I never wanted to do that to my kids. And I was never given a choice.

  “Do you miss Kara?” Hailey asks softly.

  “Fuck no,” I say, and it’s the truth. “Things weren’t great between us. But I don’t give up like that. I made a vow, and I wasn’t going to let a shitty game schedule mess it up, you know? She hated the lifestyle. She said, ‘Being divorced won’t really be any different most of the time.’”

  Hailey makes a noise of distress. “That’s cold.”

  “And short-sighted,” I point out. “I’ll be retired before the girls need braces. We said forever at our wedding, but she can’t count.” I laugh, but it’s bitter.

  She strokes my hip with soft fingers. “Sorry for your troubles.”

  “Not having any troubles right now. Except for croissant crumbs in my bed.” Time to lighten up this conversation.

  “That was your idea, big guy.”

  I roll over and kiss her.

  Eighteen

  Sticks & Stones

  Three Weeks Later

  Hailey

  The holidays pass blessedly fast. The good thing about owning a business like Fetch is that everyone and their mother is overwhelmed by last-minute holiday bullshit, which means I’m able to bury myself in work so that I don’t have to think about my holiday bullshit and mother.

  She didn’t even send a card. Not that she ever does, but it still bothers me. Some people like to believe that parents love their children no matter what, but I realized at an early age that that’s not the case.

  My mom doesn’t care about anyone but herself. My dad…heck, I don’t even remember what he looks like—that’s how fast he ran out the door.

  I didn’t get to spend Christmas with Matt, because he flew to Tampa with the girls to visit his parents. He asked me to come along, but there was no way I could abandon Jackson during Fetch’s busiest season. Jax invited me to Christmas Eve dinner at his folks’ place, which I politely declined. Deciding who I’d want to spend time with the least—my selfish mother or Jackson’s horrible father—would be an impossible feat. In the end, I went to Jenny’s family’s place for dinner and spent the whole night bouncing Jenny’s adorable infant nephew on my knee.

  Now, the holiday craziness is behind us, Matt is back in town, and I’m excited to see what this new year will bring. Good things, I hope. And lots of hot sex. But the sex will have to wait until later tonight.

  “Weather Lady!” Blake Riley bellows as I approach the back booth of the bar. He’s so ridiculously loud that his voice carries over the din of the crowded room, causing a dozen heads to turn in my direction.

  This will be the third time I’ve hung out with Blake, so you’d think I’d be used to his bellowing by now. Yet it startles me every time. And don’t get me started on the Weather Lady nickname. Still makes no sense to me, but Matt keeps advising me to ignore it.

  Speaking of Matt, my big, sexy hockey god rises from his seat to greet with me a suffocating hug and a toe-curling kiss. And now we’re attracting a different kind of attention, in the form of curious stares from patrons and catcalls courtesy of Blake.

  “Leave the poor girl alone,” Jess Canning chides from her perch on Blake’s lap. There’s plenty of space for her to sit on the actual bench, but I’ve noticed that every time Blake and Jess are in the same room, he insists she be draped over him in some fashion.

  Me, I sit down next to Matt like a good girl, even though I’m dying to be a bad one and maul him like a hungry lion. I haven’t seen him in three days because of road games, and he had to cancel our last two dinner dates because of team events. I would have gone to his place last night to welcome him home, but he got in super late and I had to be up super early, much to our equal displeasure.

  It’s weird being Matt Eriksson’s girlfriend. Or, at least I think I’m his girlfriend. He hasn’t said the G-word, and I only use the B-word in my head when I’m thinking about him. But I know we’re exclusive, and I’m pretty sure we’re together.

  Jenny teases me that we’re in a relationship with a capital R. All I know is that I love every second I spend with Matt. He’s so…real. Warm and gorgeous and funny and how the hell did I ever get so lucky?

  “Aw, Hails doesn’t mind,” Blake is saying to Jess.

  “Yeah, I’m sure she’s thrilled every time you announce her presence to the entire bar and then make howling cat sounds while she kisses her man,” Jess grumbles back.

  I grin at the couple. “I don’t mind that part. But the Weather Lady nonsense is another story.”

  “Nonsense?” Blake looks outraged. “Took me for-fucking-ever to pick the perfect nickname for you, WL. You oughta be more grateful.”

  I swipe Matt’s beer bottle from his hands. “Uh-huh. I’m so very grateful, Riley.” I take a sip, then hand the bottle back, earning me a crooked smile from Matt.

  “Yours is right here, you know,” he says wryly, gesturing to the bottle directly in front of me.

  “Oh!” I say, reaching for my favorite local beer. It’s hard to find in most bars, which is why I was thrilled to discover it’s actually served at Sticks & Stones. I knew this place was a hockey bar, but since it’s not close to where I live, I’d never been before until Matt brought me here for the first time a couple weeks ago.

  And I’m blushing happily as I reach for the beer. He must’ve ordered it when I texted him after I got off the subway, because it’s still cold. My boyfriend is thoughtful like that.

  “I’m glad we’re finally making this happen,” Jess says, gesturing around the booth with her beer. “Blake’s been babbling about this double-date idea for ages.”

  “I do not babble,” Blake protests.

  “Yeah, sorry it took a while to get it done,” Matt says, and there’s a guilty flicker in his eyes.

  I pat his thigh under the table. The last double date we tried
to schedule was one of the things he had to cancel, because he’d gotten held up at an interview he was doing for Men’s Health. I ended up going out with Blake and Jess alone, and the next time I saw Matt, he wouldn’t stop apologizing for missing dinner, an unhappy look on his face the entire time. I tried to assure him that it was no biggie, but the man seems to think that canceling on me is a cardinal sin. I suppose I should be flattered that he’s so determined not to let me down.

  I decide to change the subject before Matt starts apologizing some more. “So how was morning skate?” I ask the guys, even though I’d already spoken to Matt earlier on my lunch break. But I love hearing any and all details relating to the team.

  Hell, I love the team in general, and not just because nearly half of Matt’s teammates are now using Fetch’s services. I don’t know who got the ball rolling, but somehow over the past few weeks, our clientele list has grown to include Blake, Wesmie, Ben and Katie Hewitt, the team captain Luko and his wife Estrella, and several other Toronto players and their spouses.

  Oh, and my ex-husband’s jaw nearly hit the floor when a request came in from none other than Coach Hal. Turns out Coach Hal and his wife have a sweet tooth that needed to be satisfied at four in the morning the other night. Jackson was on night duty, and when I came in the following morning, he spent fifteen minutes raving about how he personally delivered tiramisu to our city’s favorite coach.

  I almost gloated and said, “See! Dating a hockey player is good for business, huh, Jax?” But I restrained myself, because Jackson and I agreed not to discuss our love lives.

  “Morning skate was amazeballs,” Blake answers. “They got this new coffeemaker in the facility kitchen, and it’s fancy as shit. It spits out little cups of heaven. It’s like drinking a cloud.”

  Jess furrows her brow. “I don’t think you can drink clouds.”

  “And why would you want to?” Matt inquires.

  “You haven’t tried this coffee,” Blake tells us. “Trust me. Cloud-like.”

  “That didn’t answer my question,” I point out. “What does your fancy coffee have to do with morning skate?”

  Matt rolls his eyes. “What does anything Riley says have to do with anything?”

  “True,” I agree, and Jess snickers.

  I lean closer to Matt, enjoying the warmth radiating from his sturdy chest. His arm is draped across the back of the booth, fingers loosely hanging over my shoulder. Sometimes it feels like we’re a real couple. I mean, we’re on a double date right now—isn’t double dating something only couples do?

  “But yeah, morning skate was fine,” Matt says. “Except for O’Connor and Lemming’s little scuffle.”

  I frown. Will O’Connor seems to engage in a lot of “scuffles.” “What now?”

  Both Matt and Blake shrug. Jess, however, wears a frown that matches my own.

  “I swear, that kid has a chip on his shoulder,” she remarks. “Why is he always causing trouble?”

  “Probably because he hasn’t learned how to keep his pants zipped,” Matt says flatly.

  “Wait.” Jess pauses. “You said he got into it with Lemming? Isn’t Chad, like, his only friend on the team?”

  “Pretty much,” Blake confirms. “But like Matty-Cake said, OC’s got a zipper problemo. Or maybe a dick problemo—as in, the little bugger can’t stay behind the zip. I guess that’s okey-dokey when the dick doesn’t interfere with Lemur’s conquests, but supposedly last night it did.”

  My head is spinning. Blake’s made-up Blake language is hard to understand on a good day, but when I’ve had a few sips of beer? It’s incomprehensible. From what I manage to glean, though, it sounds like O’Connor hit on his friend’s girl.

  Jess reaches the same conclusion. “So Will hooked up with someone Chad was interested in?”

  “Hard to hear what they were saying over the sounds of fists smashing faces, but yeah, I think that’s what happened,” Matt says with a sigh.

  “Coach shit a brick,” Blake adds. “Sent them both home.”

  “Wouldn’t be surprised if neither of them are on the starting lineup tomorrow night.” Matt looks annoyed as he reaches for his beer.

  Eek, I hope not. As troublesome as O’Connor is off the ice, he’s shaping up to be one of the best forwards on the team. The guy is lightning fast. And Lemming is one of our most solid defensemen.

  Across the booth, Jess sees my expression and snorts. “Oh shit, guys, Hailey’s been replaced by the Hockey Fanatic. And the Hockey Fanatic does not like the idea of losing Will and Chad tomorrow.”

  I glare at the smirking blonde. “Damn right I don’t! We need all our guys on the ice if we’re going to win the Cup!”

  “Hear hear!” a random college-aged guy shouts from the next booth.

  Err. I guess I said that louder than I intended. Oh boy. I’m turning into Blake.

  With a deep chuckle that I feel all the way down to my toes, Matt leans in and brushes his lips over my cheek. “Don’t worry, babe, we can survive one game without the Duelling Dicks.”

  Babe. I love it when he calls me babe.

  I tip my head to meet his ice-gray eyes, and as usual, I get totally and completely lost in them. They have these gorgeous flecks of silver around the pupil, and, in some lighting, specks of baby-blue too. His eyes are as beautiful as the rest of him.

  Fuck. I’m a goner for this man. Our relationship might not be “official,” but holy hell, I officially feel all the feelings for Matt Eriksson.

  “Let’s order nachos,” Blake announces, reaching for the stack of menus in the center of the booth. “I’m thinking…eight orders?”

  “Eight?” Jess squawks. “There’s only four of us here.”

  “I’ll eat at least four,” Blake assures her. “You guys can battle it out for the rest. Oh!” He suddenly snaps his fingers. “Storm Chaser!”

  I’m busy studying the menu, so it takes Matt clearing his throat to alert me. “I think he’s talking to you,” Matt murmurs.

  Setting down the menu, I glance over at Blake. “I’m Storm Chaser now?”

  He beams at me. “You could be. Do you like it better than Weather Lady?”

  I think it over. “Sure, what the hell.”

  “Perfecto. Anyway,” he continues, pointing one stern finger at me, “you got a TV?”

  I’m flummoxed. Blake jumps topics so fast, it gets confusing. “Um…yes…?”

  “Good. Make sure you watch Mornings with Matilda tomorrow. I think it’s on at eight?”

  “Nine,” Jess supplies.

  Blake jabs his finger in the air. “Nine. Right. Watch it, Storm Chaser.”

  I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. “Any reason why I need to watch a cheesy morning show?”

  His dark eyes twinkle mischievously. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

  With an arched brow, I turn to Matt. “Spill.”

  He holds up his hands. “Hey, I have no fucking idea what he’s babbling about. This is news to me—” Matt stops abruptly, and because we’re sitting so close to each other, I feel his pocket vibrating. He reaches in and pulls out his phone, then frowns. “Gotta take this,” he apologizes. As he raises the phone to his ear, his tone immediately takes on a stiff note. “Kara. What’s up?”

  I stiffen too. And damn, I think Jess notices, because a flicker of sympathy flashes in her brown eyes. Okay, so maybe I’m not entirely comfortable with Matt’s ex-wife. Since our awkward run-in the morning after the CN Tower excursion, I’ve made a point to stay away whenever I know she’s due to pick up the girls. I don’t like the way Kara looks at me, as if I’ve committed some major offense for existing near her children.

  At least my ex is cordial when Matt happens to show up at the Fetch office. Jackson has never been anything but polite to Matt, and he’s never, ever mocked him about being nothing more than a hookup.

  But Kara’s the mother of Matt’s children. I can’t be rude to her, and I definitely can’t criticize her to Matt.
That has “jealous new girlfriend” written all over it.

  “What do you mean?” Matt sounds aggravated. “But we agreed I’d have them for two days next week.”

  I hear Kara’s voice on the other end, but I can’t make out what she’s saying. Whatever it is, Matt doesn’t like it. The tips of his ears turn red, a clear sign that he’s pissed.

  “Kara.” He speaks quietly, but there’s menace there. “You can’t just rearrange our schedule to suit you. We—” He stops again, glancing around the booth as if remembering where he is. Then he squeezes my shoulder briefly and mutters, “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”

  I slide out of the booth to allow his escape, and then Blake, Jess, and I watch as Matt marches toward the restroom area with the phone glued to his ear and his shoulders set in a tense line.

  “Exes, right?” Blake quips.

  The comment is meant to break the tension, but all it does is make things more awkward.

  “Have you met her yet?” Jess finally hedges.

  I nod. “She’s…all right.”

  Blake snorts.

  Thoughtful, Jess reaches for her beer and takes a sip. “I’ve never met her myself—she was before my time—but the WAGs don’t have a lot of nice things to say about her.”

  I don’t have a lot of nice things to say, either, but I try to tamp down the urge. “She’s the mother of his kids,” is all I say, and I manage a careless shrug.

  Jess continues to eye me sympathetically. I know she can see right through me.

  I turn away from her steady gaze and focus on Blake instead. “So…nachos?”

  The next morning, I keep my promise to Blake and make sure to have the TV on in the break room while I brew another pot of coffee at the small counter. I’m on my third cup already, and it’s not even nine. That’s what happens when you stay up very, very late having sex with a very, very hot hockey player. I was a bleary-eyed, sex-haired mess when I dragged myself out of Matt’s bed at seven a.m. Luckily, I brought a change of clothes, so I was able to shower and dress at his apartment and make it to work at eight without a hitch.