Ice Daddy

by June Winters

  “So that's what was bothering you. And you wouldn't just come out and say it. Wow, Lance. Wow. At least you got to enjoy yourself one last time, huh?”

  “I swear, it's not like that. I wanted to tell you.” Lance tried put his arm around Paige to calm her, but she shrugged him off.

  “Don't.”

  He sighed. “Look, I don't care what the team says, alright? I want you and Irie with me. But I can't get in any more trouble with these people. They're killing me. I was only telling you what was bothering me, since you wanted to know so bad. But now, ugh, you're pissed at me. I shouldn't even have said anything.”

  A voice came over the PA again. “Attention passengers, we are now beginning regular boarding …”

  “I quit my job for this, Lance. For Irie, for you, for the three of us together! And all you care about is being the captain of a dumb hockey team?”

  “That's not all I care about …”

  “Yet you're not even willing to fight for us.” Her nostrils flared. “I can't do this, Lance.”

  His eyes grew in a panic. “Can't do what?”

  “Boston. I can't do it.” She put her arms out for Irie. “Pass her to me.”

  Lance turned to the side, shielding Irie. “No—Paige—please no.”

  “I can't get on that plane with you, Lance. I'm sorry, but I can't. I told you I couldn't do this if either of us had doubts. Please, don't make a scene. Just pass me my daughter.”

  “But she's my daughter too, Paige.”

  “I'm glad you know that. And I won't keep you from her, if you truly want to be in her life. But I can't bring Irie into a situation I'm not certain about. She needs stability. I'm her Mom and I've got to watch out for her.” She held her arms out again. “Please, Lance. Pass her to me. Let's not make a scene.”

  Lance froze. He needed to think of a way out of this situation; he needed to find the right words to convince Paige and get her to understand, but his mind was a blank.

  “Final boarding call for Flight 3898 to Boston ...”

  “Come with me,” he muttered. No other words would come to him.

  “I can't. You know I can't.” She shook her head sternly. “I'll come out to Boston later. So we can take your stupid paternity test and everything else. But I'll stay at a hotel.”

  Defeated, Lance nodded. “I'll pay for everything,” he said quietly.

  Paige reached out for Irie and took her daughter away from Lance. Snatched from her father's embrace, Irie began to scream, her arms futilely reaching for him. It was the worst cry Lance had ever heard, the saddest sight he'd ever seen. A pain sheared through his heart.

  “Okay. So. I'll be in touch,” Paige said, her voice trembling. Tears welled in her eyes. She turned her head so Lance wouldn't see.

  “I'll—I'll stay. I'll stay with you.” He reached for her one more time, but she swatted his hand away.

  “There's no point. Your life's in Boston and you can't make your team mad.”

  “But—”

  “Bye, Lance. I'm going.”

  “Wait. Wait.” Lance opened his wallet and fished out a healthy stack of hundred dollar bills. He thrust them at Paige. “Here. Please. Take this. It's only a grand or two, but it's all I've got on me. I'll send more as soon as I get home.”

  Paige pushed the money away. “I don't want your money, Lance. I never did.”

  “But you quit your job—”

  “Better get on that plane, Lance. They're closing the door right now.” Her tears finally broke and flowed down her cheeks. She hurried off with Irie screaming the whole way.

  Lance could only watch in stunned silence as the two girls he cared about more than anything else left his life.

  Chapter 26

  Paige

  Paige's throat was achy and sore from the drive back from the airport. She'd spent the ride trying to cheer Irie—but that was an impossible task, since Paige was fighting off her own tears.

  “I'm so sorry, baby girl,” Paige sniffled to Irie as she pushed open the door to her apartment. The apartment felt so empty, cold and lifeless. She wasn't supposed to be back here yet. It felt like it wasn't even her place anymore, as if her spirit had already moved out.

  What was worse, two bags of her favorite clothes and personal items were now on a flight to Boston. So were two bags of Irie's clothes and essentials, too. She was worse off than ever and she didn't know what she was supposed to do next. All that remained was a dreadful shame at letting herself get swept up over an unlikely romance with a hockey star.

  Scrambling to pick up the pieces of her old life, Paige made a desperate phone call to the Burger Stand and asked if she could have her job back. Her manager laughed and told her to get fucked.

  When it rains, it pours, and Paige was more devastated than ever.

  What made it even worse was that some part of her still liked Lance. Yes, she hated that part of herself, and yes, it was withering by the minute—but it wasn't as if he'd done or said something horrible. He was clearly conflicted himself.

  Truthfully, she wasn't even upset that he wanted a paternity test done. For God's sake, she'd offered to do exactly that yesterday when he asked! She wished he would've come clean about his problems with the team last night, when he first heard about it, so the two of them could deal with it like mature adults and not have an embarrassing public break-up at the airport.

  She knew that her dramatic airport exit would be the death knell of any potential relationship between her and Lance. He probably wouldn't be able to forgive her for leaving him like that—but she wouldn't be able to forgive herself for bringing Irie into a bad situation, either.

  She had to put her daughter first. That's what a good parent did. But Lance wasn't willing to do the same. His first priority was being a hockey player. That meant he wasn't the guy she thought he was, much less the man she needed him to be.

  That told Paige all she needed to know. It'd never work out between them—not as lovers, anyway. She still hoped that Lance would prove to be a good father to Irie. But it was obvious that it'd never work out between them.

  Lost, and needing someone to confide in, Paige called her friend, Emily.

  ***

  Emily arrived a half hour later, carrying a bottle of wine. And as soon as she walked through the door, the waterworks started all over—both Paige and Irie's.

  “Hey, hey, hey! What's going on here, girls?” Emily asked, her eyes wide with concern.

  “I'm sorry,” Paige whimpered. “I keep making her cry. I'm making it worse.”

  “What the hell happened?” she asked as she filled two glasses with wine.

  Paige told her everything: how she ran into Lance at the end of her shift yesterday, how she introduced him to both Irie and her parents, how he appeared to be World's Greatest Dad for the span of one night, how they “made love” (complete with sarcastic air-quotes) on the living room floor, and how he'd basically dumped them at the airport by telling them they'd have to live in secrecy.

  “Jeez Louise. A lot happened in the past day,” Emily said, her own head apparently spinning.

  “I feel like such an ass. I can't believe I let myself get so carried away with him.”

  “Well, he is the father of your daughter, and if he was saying all the right things last night …”

  “He was. Right up until the moment we had to get on that airplane. Then, suddenly, all the wrong things started pouring out of his mouth. Now I've got no clothes, no job, no way to pay my bills.”

  Emily gave a defiant shrug of her shoulders. “Honestly? Fuck him, and fuck the Burger Stand, too. Make him take that paternity test he wants so damn badly! Once he sees the results, he's gonna feel like the biggest shit-heel ever. And then get ready to cash that giant child support check, hon! I know you're hurting now, but once you see that first payment, you're gonna feel alright. And he's going to feel like an idiot for letting a great girl, the mother of his daughter, go.”

  Paige howled. “I don't even car
e about his money …! I just wanted him to be—”

  “Something he's not?”

  Paige slumped. “Yeah. I guess so. Ugh, but he had me so convinced.”

  Emily shook her head. “Athletes, man. You really can't trust ’em.”

  “I don't even know what I'm supposed to do next.” Paige downed the rest of her wine glass. “Wanna know the worst part?”

  “What's that?”

  “I keep second-guessing myself. What if I made the wrong choice? What if I should've given it a chance? He kept saying he wanted me to go with him, Em. What if it's not his fault? What if the team really did put him in an impossible situation?”

  “You went with your maternal instinct, Paige, and that's the most important thing. Like you said, Irie has to come first.”

  “But I like him. Yeah, he's cocky and kind of an ass. But he's also funny and hot and even a little bit charming, and ugh, you should've seen how good he was with Irie!” She let out a defeated wail. “I just wish things could've worked out with him …”

  Emily polished off her wine and refilled their glasses. “Maybe I'm just tipsy from this wine, but—” She stalled. “Nah, nevermind, I shouldn't say it.”

  “Just say it, Em. After today, I'm so tired of people not saying what's on their minds. It'd be so much easier if everyone was honest instead of being afraid to speak their truth …” The irony wasn't lost on Paige that she'd done exactly that with her parents.

  Emily raised a palm in thought. “I was going to say, maybe he'll come to his senses? I don't want to get your hopes up, but it sounds like everything happened really fast. Maybe he'll sack up and try to get you back?”

  “We both know he won't.”

  She frowned. “If he's not the guy you need him to be, he won't. But if he is, I think he'll find a way. I don't know if a guy can fall in love with his daughter like that, and maybe even you too, and be content with just paying you to make the problem go away. A good man will battle for his family. All you have to do now is sit back and see what kind of man he truly is.”

  “It's a nice thought, but …” Paige shook her head. “I wouldn't count on it.”

  Chapter 27

  Lance

  Lance preferred to travel light, but today his lethargic body lugged five suitcases into his brick building: two were Paige's, two were Irie's.

  He entered the building with a sigh. He'd been so excited to see Paige's reaction when she first stepped foot into her new condo. Compared to her old place? She'd feel like royalty moving into a palace.

  The lobby sparkled, like it always did. But surveying the grand entrance now, with its glinting marble floors and impressive modern architecture, well, it felt dull, disappointing, empty.

  The doorman jumped into action to take the suitcases from him. “Good evening, Mr. Couture! Let me take those—”

  Lance snarled and waved him off. “I got it.”

  He couldn't let those bags out of his sight; they were the last things of Paige and Irie he felt like he still had. He might have let them down, but he still felt a tremendous responsibility to those girls. He'd been calling and texting Paige since his plane touched down, offering to overnight their belongings as soon as possible, but she wouldn't give him any sort of reply. His calls went straight to voicemail.

  Carrying those bags became not just his responsibility, but his punishment. Instead of the elevator, he took the stairs to the top floor. His muscular quads burned and his back ached as he climbed the eleven flights. For all he cared, his bones deserved to be crushed under the weight of the disappointment he'd caused.

  Sweaty now, with a strong pulse throbbing in his veins and a heat blistering under his suit, Lance arrived at the top floor. He paused and turned his ear to the door—he could've sworn he heard someone talking inside. Irrational hopes and crazy wishes rocketed from the ground floor of his mind and into the stratosphere:

  Are Paige and Irie here? Did they beat me home?

  But one short second later, sanity returned, and the desperate smile faded from his mouth. It was impossible that Paige and Irie could be in there. Even if Paige had a change of heart, there was no way she could've beat him home.

  He was hearing things.

  Lance stuck his key in the door and pushed his way in.

  A wall of booming voices greeted him like a burst of hot wind on a summer day.

  “SURPRISE!”

  ***

  Lance blinked blankly and surveyed his condo. Streamers, in Brawler black and yellow, hung from the ceilings and decorated every walkway and window. The hell is this?

  Lance turned his eyes at the people standing in his condo: they were his Brawlers teammates and their significant others. Radar, Shea, Ilya, Brooksy, Stoner, everyone else on the team—they were all here, and everyone was dressed up and had their girlfriends and wives by their side.

  Lance tilted his head at the gallery. His people looked almost alien, with their pointy party hats and ridiculously enormous smiles that just didn't belong on a lousy day like today. The annoying, locust-like hum of a dozen kazoos didn't help Lance's frame of mind.

  Someone threw him a can of beer. Lance caught it and passed it to someone else.

  “What—what's everyone doing here?” Lance finally asked once the clapping, hooting and kazooing died down. Had word about Paige and Irie spread? Had the team thrown together a last-minute surprise welcome home party for his new family? He'd have to tell everyone that he already screwed it all up. A hot burst of embarrassment colored his cheeks.

  But his sister, Ella, emerged from Radar's side and stepped forward. “We're here for your birthday, duh! Do you love it? I planned everything! Radar still had his old key; that's how we all got in. I hope you love it, anyway … you look sort of confused.”

  He grunted. “Oh. Right. My birthday. Thanks.”

  “Jeez, Lance, you didn't forget about your own birthday, did you?”

  “No …”

  “Let me give you a hug.” Ella hugged him. Her pregnant belly—huge at nine months—pressed against his stomach. It felt like a cruel reminder of what he'd just lost. Her baby was so close, and yet his daughter so far.

  But Ella reeled back from her hug and quickly began wiping her palms against her hips. “Ugh, gross, why are you so sweaty, Lance? You're freakin' damp under that suit.”

  “I took the stairs.”

  Radar, his old roommate, laughed. “The stairs? Why?”

  Lance didn't reply.

  Ella picked and preened at his collar and mussed his hair. “And jeez you look terrible. What's wrong? Did something happen to you? Normally, you want to party on your birthday …”

  He gently pushed his sister's hand away from his face. “Yeah, thanks, Honey Badger. I look like shit, and probably smell like it, too. Happy birthday to me, eh?”

  Ilya laughed in the background. “Lance, what's with all those suitcases in the hall behind you?”

  Everyone craned their necks, trying to see around Lance. Lance himself turned and stared at the suitcases while he rummaged for a suitable lie. “Uh. I picked up some things in Nashville.”

  “You mean you stole somebody's suitcases?” someone joked, and the whole party went into an uproar.

  “Right now there's some poor family wandering around the airport, wondering who ruined their vacation!” someone else joked.

  Lance snapped. “Would you guys shut the hell up and help me move this stuff in?”

  “Jeez.” “Just jokin', Lance.” “Hey, sorry bud.”

  ***

  Everyone was in a good mood, or at least they were until he showed up like a big and gray and ominous storm cloud. It wasn't easy, under the circumstances, but Lance did his best to act normal.

  It was even harder that he couldn't even tell anyone what was bothering him. But for a few hours, all he had to do was somehow stop thinking about Paige and Irie and talk puck with his teammates, make small talk with their significant others, and above all else, assure everyone who asked th
at yes, he truly was fine—“but now that you ask, maybe I am a little fatigued from that flight.”

  He knew Ella could see through his lies and bullshit—she always did. She could sense that something wasn't right with him. Naturally, Ella blamed herself for throwing a surprise birthday party that she assumed he hated. Typical Ella, she didn't believe him when he said he appreciated it.

  He did appreciate it, of course. She'd done a lot of planning to get the whole place decorated and coordinate with everyone.

  He just couldn't enjoy it. He had other things on his mind. Things he couldn't tell anybody, according to Kip Sterling.

  The night got later and slowly, one by one, most of the married couples took off. A small group remained—the team's bachelors, Lance's closest buddies, and Ella. After everyone begged and pleaded to take him out to the club for some birthday fun, Lance reluctantly agreed. The group went to downtown Boston and found themselves at Club Regret.

  ***

  Lance snuck away from the group's booth in a VIP section and sat at the bar by himself. Some of his single teammates were on the dance floor, glass in hand, bumping and grinding on the girls they were planning on taking home for the night.

  He set his cell phone on top of the bar and checked his texts again. Still no word from Paige. No matter how many times he texted or called her, he didn't hear a word back.

  Then there was a body at his side and a cloud of vanilla and floral scents wafted over him. Her small hand wrapped around his thick bicep. Lance turned slowly, wishing that the girl with her arms all over him would be Paige, but knowing in his heart that it couldn't possibly be.

  “Lance Couture,” the 20-something girl said, over-enunciating every syllable of his name, as if she were announcing the grand entrance of a king.

  He looked at her and forced a smile. “Hi.” She was pretty enough. Seemed to have a great body. The tops of her breasts jiggled in her low-cut dress. And with one look into those sultry bedroom eyes, he knew exactly what she wanted.