Maybe This Time

by Jennifer Snow

  * * *

  She’d survived.

  Along with her students, Abigail watched the clock on the wall count down the final seconds to the end of day bell. When it rang, she almost joined them in the squeal of delight. This teaching shit was hard.

  “Okay, dismissed. Thank you…” she said, gathering her things.

  “Will Mr. Thompson be back tomorrow?” Ashley asked as she passed the desk.

  God, she hoped so. She thought maybe she’d do better with older kids…or younger ones. Second grade children were brats. “Let’s hope for a speedy recovery,” she said with a tired smile.

  When all the kids were gone, she breathed a sigh of relief, then straightened again as Principal Breen came into the classroom. “Hi,” she said, forcing her voice to sound upbeat despite the mental exhaustion she felt and the aching arches in her feet. No more three-inch heels for teaching.

  “How was your first day?” the older woman asked, glancing around the classroom.

  Abigail rushed to collect all of the science worksheets from the desks. “Great. The kids are…”

  “Monsters,” she finished with a smile. “I assume that’s Jell-O on your skirt?”

  Busted. “Yes, I think so…I hope so.” She stacked the worksheets into the file and handed everything to the principal.

  “It’s tougher than it looks, huh?”

  She had no idea what the right answer was. She didn’t want to appear arrogant and overconfident, when it was the last thing she felt. Nor did she want to give the woman the impression she couldn’t handle it. Or that she’d made a mistake taking a chance on her. “It was definitely a challenge, but in a good way.”

  Principal Breen nodded. “Well, they are all still alive—and so are you—so I’d call that a win.”

  Abigail smiled at the unexpected kindness. “Thank you.”

  “The other reason I wanted to catch you before you left for the day was I wanted to see if you might be interested in taking over the fundraising committee. Kelli Fitzgerald is currently in charge, but with her maternity leave, we will be looking to fill that responsibility as well. Even if the teaching position doesn’t work out, that would still be a way to be involved with the school.”

  Abigail hesitated. She was more concerned with having gainful employment than in being involved with the school, but if she agreed to take over the role, it could only help her chances of securing the full-time position at the end of the following month. “Sure. I’d love to.” She was getting really good at exaggerating lately.

  Principal Breen smiled. “Wonderful. The next committee meeting is tomorrow night at seven.”

  She nodded. “I’ll be there.”

  As the principal left the classroom, Dani entered. Finally a kid she liked.

  “Hi!” Abigail said, hugging her.

  “How did it go?” her daughter asked.

  “Good…except for the Jell-O,” she said, turning to show her daughter her red-stained butt.

  Dani’s laughter made the ruined fabric worthwhile.

  “You think it’s funny, do you?”

  “Hilarious. We used to prank substitutes at school all the time.” She covered her mouth as another giggle escaped.

  “You could have warned me,” she said, grabbing her jacket and tying it around her waist. “Ready to go home?”

  Her daughter hesitated, biting her lip and staring at her hands.

  Uh-oh, something was up. “Dani, you okay?”

  “I want to try out for the hockey team,” she blurted out.

  Her chest tightened. “Okay…” Her daughter wanting to play hockey shouldn’t surprise her, but somehow it did, and not in a good way. She’d noticed the sports announcements on the bulletin board outside the gym, but this was the first she was hearing about Dani’s interest in trying out for any teams. “When are the tryouts?”

  “Tonight. Taylor is trying out, and she said I should, too.”

  Right, Taylor. And her hockey coach uncle. “Well, you don’t have any gear.” She didn’t want to sound unsupportive, but hockey was one sport she’d had quite enough of for one lifetime. The idea of going from a hockey wife to a hockey mom made her gag.

  “Taylor said her skates and helmet from last year should fit me. And she said the other gear is provided for tryouts. That way parents won’t have to buy anything unless their kid makes the team.”

  Taylor had thought of everything, hadn’t she? She hesitated, staring at her daughter’s eager, nervous face, and it hit her how hard this must have been for Dani. Waiting until the last minute to ask was a sure sign she’d been dreading the conversation, and Abigail’s chest ached. She never wanted her daughter to feel anxious about talking to her about anything. She forced a smile and bent lower to hug her. “Of course you can try out.”

  Dani hugged her back. “Really? Thanks, Mom. You’re the best,” she said excitedly as she took her hand and led the way out of the classroom.

  Would Dani still feel that way if she knew Abigail was secretly hoping her daughter didn’t make the team?

  * * *

  Shit, the kid was good.

  One quick glance across the arena to where Abby stood watching revealed she was thinking the exact same thing. The mixed look of admiration, pride, and oh-fuck-no on her face was easy enough to read, even from that distance.

  But despite everything, he begrudgingly gave her credit for bringing Dani to the tryout in the first place. When Taylor had mentioned that her new friend would be there that evening, he’d been tempted to tell his niece not to get her hopes up. He suspected Abby was no longer the die-hard hockey enthusiast she’d once been. But she was there to support her daughter; that was impressive.

  Unfortunately so was her perfectly curvy ass in the skin-tight skinny jeans she wore tucked into knee-high leather boots. Damn, why couldn’t her kid have sucked? Having Abby around the arena for practice and at the games would be torture. Or at the very least a distraction he couldn’t afford.

  But Dani was a natural on skates. Her puck handling needed work, as he doubted she’d had much experience with it, but she was keeping up with the drills, and she was small but fast on the ice. She moved around the boys with a delicate ease that seemed to confuse them, trip them up.

  And she was determined. She was working harder out there than anyone else, and he always said hard work and determination outdid talent any day.

  Just not in his case.

  “She’s good,” Darryl said, coming up behind him with coffee.

  He accepted one from his assistant coach and took a sip, the hot liquid burning his throat. “Yep.”

  “Like really good…almost better than some of the boys.”

  “Yep.”

  “So, I assume she’s on the team?” Darryl asked.

  He released a deep sigh. “Yep.”

  * * *

  “I made the team! I made the team!”

  Dani’s high-pitched squeal almost sent the SUV off of the road. Abigail straightened the vehicle and shot a quick glance at her daughter. “How do you know?” They’d just left the hockey arena ten minutes before.

  Her daughter held her phone in front of her face.

  “Driving!” she said, looking above the phone. “Is that a message from Taylor?” she asked nervously. She wasn’t surprised. From where she stood watching and not breathing, her daughter looked like a natural. She’d reminded her of Dean out there on the ice.

  An image that had caused her stomach to twist and knot in more ways than she’d thought possible. Being at the old arena where she’d watched Dean practice and play, where they’d shared their first kiss in the parking lot, and where she’d told him she was pregnant, was hard. Old memories had a way of overshadowing new ones sometimes, making it difficult to remember why she was back in Glenwood Falls, divorcing him and building a new life without the man she’d thought she would grow old with.

  Beside her, her daughter texted furiously.

  “Well, congratulations, sweethea
rt,” she said, hoping it sounded sincere. Her little girl was genuinely excited and she wouldn’t rain on her parade, even though she’d been hoping to leave all traces of a hockey life behind.

  “Thanks for letting me try out, Mom. I know how you feel about hockey lately…” she said, suddenly quiet, her gaze out the passenger window.

  Abigail refused to let her daughter feel one second of unhappiness over this. “Hey,” she said, touching Dani’s cheek.

  Her daughter turned to look at her.

  “I was only anti-hockey because I’d lost my favorite player for a while, but now it looks like I’ll have a new one,” she said with a wink.

  Her daughter smiled. “I could skate circles around Dad,” she said, and the two shared a brief moment of girl-power bonding that had Abigail’s hopes soaring.

  They were going to be okay.

  * * *

  After relacing his skates, Jackson stepped out onto the rink. The kids were gone and all of the arena employees had cleared out and it was just him and the blank sheet of cold ice between his thoughts.

  Lou, the Zamboni driver, always had to clear the ice before the first skate of the day, but no one ever said anything to him about his late-night skates. It was his routine, his time to unwind, his chance to play the entire season out in his head and decide which players he was going to push, which ones would push themselves, and which of the group had that special something that would see them rise above the others.

  As he picked up speed approaching the first corner of the rink, the charge of lightning through his legs he felt when he was on the ice, was slow coming that evening.

  He was worried about the season.

  Worried about the changes to the league and how they would affect not only the team but the individual players and their families. He knew some of these kids had bigger dreams and aspirations for hockey. Others just wanted to play the game.

  And some would dream big and never quite make it.

  Like him.

  An old-school defensive player in a changing sport, he was doomed. On the ice he knew one job—get between his team’s goalie and any opposing player. He watched the game unfold from behind the blue line. Tall, thick, and not the most elegant skater on the team, he blocked and shielded and stopped his goalie’s visibility from being obstructed. But when he had the puck, he passed. He gave it to an offensive player whose job it was to score.

  But major leagues were looking for dynamic players who could play both sides of the line.

  Maybe if he’d realized that sooner. He’d been so close. Despite getting drafted at eighteen by the Avalanche, he’d decided to go the college route, agreeing with his parents that an education to fall back on was the right plan. But his low-scoring college years had landed him nowhere near the Avalanche training camp the year he graduated. Instead, he’d been sent to play for the Colorado Eagles—a holding team for the league in Loveland.

  The next four years had been torture. While most players on the East Coast Hockey League team found peace with their situation, enjoyed playing for the $30,000-a-year paycheck, and picked up a side job to survive, he couldn’t let go of the dream. The NHL was within reach, and his brother Ben, playing with the Avalanche, was proof that it was possible.

  So he played with as much determination and heart as ever and it paid off. Four and a half years in, he was called up.

  And benched for three games.

  And sent back to Loveland.

  The disappointment of being even closer to the goal and not getting a chance to prove himself on NHL ice had broken him. Then his father had gotten sick and worry about his family had stolen his focus completely. Once the ECHL season ended, he packed up, quit the team, and moved back to Glenwood Falls, grateful for his business degree backup plan and his construction skills learned from his father.

  As he picked up speed, the blades of his well-worn skates cutting through the surface of the ice, he thought about his niece. She understood the game. She worked behind the blue line, stealing the puck from the opposite team’s offense with ease, but then she flew across the ice with it, scoring when it wasn’t her job to do so.

  At first, he’d tried to remind her of her position on the team. “Stay back in your zone. Protect your goalie at all times,” he’d said.

  But she’d just smiled and said, “As long as I have the puck, my goalie is safe, right?”

  And he couldn’t argue. She’d been right. And as he watched his brother Asher, a defenseman for the New Jersey Devils, play each and every major league game, the little girl’s words had been confirmed. Asher played the same way. It was his ability on both sides of the blue line that made him great. That gave him the highest scoring percentage among the list of defensemen in the league.

  Jackson’s own defensive-minded strategy of keeping guard, playing the role of the stay-at-home bruiser who rarely ventured beyond his zone with the puck, was the thing that had held him back. And slowly he was learning not to coach his players into that same limiting mindset.

  As he did his tenth lap around the rink, his thoughts shifted to Dani and her ability to see where the puck was headed before it left her stick. Her spatial awareness on the ice was incredible…one of those rare traits that couldn’t be taught…they had to be felt.

  She was Dean Underwood’s daughter, and she would be playing on his team.

  And Dean’s ex-wife would be around to remind him of the other things in life that had been slightly out of reach.

  He was screwed.

  Chapter 5

  With the official list of that year’s team players posted and individual letters sent home to the parents, there was nothing Abigail could do other than embrace her daughter’s new extracurricular activity with all the enthusiasm and support she could muster.

  Yet staring at the price tag for the new hockey skates made her wince. Hockey was an expensive sport, one that wouldn’t have been a big deal a year ago. Now as she was struggling to build a new life for them without Dean’s support, the idea of spending three hundred dollars on hockey skates that would only last one season, if they were lucky, made her ill.

  Up until that week, she’d never worked, focusing instead on raising Dani and working on the Dreams for Life charity. Dean’s income had been more than sufficient in providing everything they’d needed. With his eight-year contract with the L.A. Kings, he’d been guaranteed stability and over $24 million for the term. Three million dollars a year should have been enough for them to never worry about money in their lifetime, but between the $2 million home in L.A. and Dean’s car collection and other expensive hobbies, they’d barely put anything away. The following year, his contract would be up and he would be a free agent. She wondered what his plan was then.

  She shook the thought away. It wouldn’t be her problem anymore.

  “Do you need help with anything?” a store clerk at Rolling’s Sports asked, as he surveyed the stack of required hockey gear she’d collected so far.

  “I think I found everything okay,” she said, reaching for the items. One way or another, Dani needed this stuff. Practices started that Friday after school.

  At the counter, she averted her eyes as the tally added up.

  “Five hundred and eighty-six dollars please,” the clerk said, admiring the elbow guards. “These are fantastic. I just bought a set and they are so much better than the other brands.”

  They better be. At seventy dollars more, she hoped they would protect her little girl from damaged joints. She bit her lip. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about Dani playing hockey—she was so little, and the teams were co-ed. Surely the bigger, stronger boys weren’t a fair match-up.

  “Five hundred and eighty-six,” the young kid repeated.

  “Oh, right, sorry,” she said, opening her wallet and retrieving her credit card. Dean’s credit card.

  The clerk swiped it and frowned a second later. “It says declined. Should I try again?”

  She nodded, her stomach twisting. �
��Yes, please.”

  “Nope, sorry. Still declined,” he said a second later.

  Shit. Her ex had just taken douchebag to a whole new level. Reaching into her wallet, Abigail handed him her debit card instead. Please, God, let there be enough money in there. She’d never worried about it before. Dean would always transfer money into her account for her and Dani every month, and they’d lived worry-free, knowing there was always money there. The credit cards were different; they were in his name only, and she just had a card to access funds as needed—or used to have a card.

  She punched in her account PIN and held her breath until the APPROVED notification appeared on the screen. Thank God.

  “Receipt with you or in the bag?” the clerk asked.

  “In the bag is fine,” she said, accepting the heavy oversized bag. “Thank you.”

  As she left the store, she reached into her purse for her cell phone, her hand shaking as she hit dial on her ex’s number. He’d never answer when he saw her number on his phone, but she had a fully prepared earful to give his voicemail. If he thought he could just walk away with no responsibility to her and Dani, he was dead wrong.

  “Hello?” Dean’s gruff, unfriendly voice caught her by surprise, and she almost hung up.

  “You canceled my credit card.”

  “It’s my credit card, and yes, my lawyer suggested that I should,” he said tightly.

  “So, how am I supposed to support our daughter while you continue to drag out this divorce settlement?” She lowered her voice as a family walked past her into the store.

  “Get a job maybe,” was his cool reply.

  “I have one. Teaching,” she said, switching the phone to the other ear and changing hands for the heavy bag. The position wasn’t a definite thing yet, but he didn’t need to know that.

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is I don’t appreciate having my cards declined in the middle of a store.”

  “You’re lucky the debit card still works,” he said, and she could hear the sound of music and clanging dishes in the background. No doubt he was enjoying lunch on a beautiful patio somewhere overlooking the ocean.