by Cass Kincaid
I nod my head, glancing at the little black bag with the Four Seasons written all over it. I wink at Darcy and say, “I don’t blame you. It’s a pretty bag.”
She smiles, letting out a deep breath. “That’s why I took it.”
Dad says, “Good. At least we know where to take them.”
It occurs to me that maybe we should take them straight to the police. But, that’s the problem with fame; if they were someone else’s children, that’s exactly what we would have done by now. Taken them to the police and let them deal with it.
But, somehow, because they just happen to be Tristan Wright’s kids, we’re going out on a limb for him. I can tell Dad’s thinking the same thing as I look over at him. The problem is, if we go to the hotel and Tristan isn’t there, then that’s exactly what we’ll have to do. Which is a shame, because the kids are so damn cute. And God knows, they’ve already been through enough earlier today by being under the supervision of one hurtful person. I really didn’t want to have to be another one for them to add to that list.
Chapter 5
Tristan
I try to leave the dressing room, but the guys have other things in mind. Everyone’s in a celebratory mood, and I can’t blame them for that. I could do with a drink or two myself, but I need to get to the kids.
“Tristan, where are you rushing off to?” the coach asks as I finally finish in the showers and grab my clothes. I don’t want to tell him I have no one to look after my children, and that they’ve been at the concession stand throughout the entire game. I feel like shit just thinking about it, let alone having to confess it to him.
I smile. “Nothing. Just want to get back to the kids.” Like, right now.
“Shit, you’re too hard on yourself. The kids are fine with that hot new nanny of yours.”
I put on a wider fake smile, thinking that the hot new nanny’s nothing but a neglectful bitch. A bitch who dumped my kids in a public arena.
“One drink won’t hurt. Besides, before we hit the city, I bought a bottle of champagne. You guys can call it a premonition, but I had a feeling we were going to fucking rock tonight. And what did we do tonight, boys?”
Everyone cheers. “Rocked it!”
We did rock it, they’re damn right about that. I glance down at my phone.
Ten minutes, that’s it. Besides, one drink won’t hurt. It’s not that late, and I’m sure they’ll be cleaning up and packing up the concession stand for a bit.
The kids will be fine.
I’m sure that they’re fine.
Monty seems nice enough, and Faith, well, she has an innocence about her that seems like the perfect equation for the kids.
I didn’t get to speak to her, seeing as she spent most of her time just nodding her head. But, Darcy seemed to like her all right.
I’m sure the kids are fine. It’s just one drink. Ten minutes. I repeat the words over in my head. I know I shouldn’t stay, and guilt is already seeping into me over it.
I’ll make sure the guys are distracted, then I’ll get the fuck out of here. The kids have been through enough today, and I wouldn’t want them to think I’ve abandoned them like Isobel did. They mean too much to me.
Ten minutes.
***
Shit! Shit! Shit!
What the hell was I thinking? I’ve been in that dressing room way too long. We’re supposed to be back at the hotel, yet, here I am. Ten minutes had somehow turned into over forty-five, and it wasn’t until I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket that I cut off the conversation I’d been engrossed in with the coach and Joshua. The message was from a number I didn’t recognize, but she’d stated in the text that it was Faith, and that she had the kids at the hotel. Darcy must’ve given her my number.
After that, I hailed down a taxi and headed straight to the Four Seasons, knowing I’d just made a grave mistake.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I shake my head. I’ve completely lost my mind. I must have. First, their nanny leaves them, and now I’m taking my sweet fucking time picking them up from the hands of complete fucking strangers. Complete strangers that managed to get them back to the hotel.
Hell, they’re doing a better job as a parent than I am.
I don’t deserve those kids.
What the hell is wrong with me?
As soon as I get to the hotel, I fly out of the taxi. I don’t even look at the meter as I toss the driver a fifty-dollar bill. The driver’s cheering for me, saying that he supports his home team, but he loves the way I play.
I ignore him, running toward the elevator as if my life depends on it. My head pounds out of control as the guilt of abandoning my kids weighs heavily on my mind. I’m no better than Isobel.
I use the key to get into the suite.
Faith is sitting on the couch as if everything’s under control. I sigh, but then, I don’t know how she got into the room. She’s reading a magazine from the lobby with only the light coming from a dim wall sconce.
She stands up, tossing the magazine onto the couch, and her long dark hair follows her as if floating in the air. I never noticed that about her, that her hair’s so long. She turns on the brighter overhead light and whispers to me. “Good of you to show up. I put the kids in their PJs. They’re sleeping.”
“Great. Thanks for doing that.” I slump down on the sofa. “I...” I trail off, not knowing where to begin.
“Is that all you have to say? I looked after your kids so you could play that game. And judging by the hands on the clock, so you could attend the afterparty, too.”
What the fuck? She’s got every right to be angry, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy hearing it from her lips.
One minute she’s calm, and the next she’s face to face with me, her hands on her hips.
“You don’t even know me,” she reminds me. “I could be a serial killer or something, and you just left your kids with me.”
It sounds weak, but I say, “It wasn’t my fault. Their nanny just dumped them. How the hell was I supposed to know that I didn’t have a sitter for the game?” I stand up straight, trying to gain some composure, but my stomach is doing somersaults. I feel fucking sick.
She’s right.
“When you found out, you didn’t exactly try and sort it out. You happily left them with me.”
I point to her, but then head toward the bathroom. “I’m seriously going to be sick.”
I rush into the bathroom, unable to stop it, and she shouts out while heading to the door, “So am I!”
Then, she slams the door.
What the fuck just happened? One minute, she’s happily helping me out, then the next she’s pissed, reprimanding me like a goddamn child. I mean, I know why she’s pissed, but damn it, I didn’t even get a formal apology out.
This is why I’m single. I could never figure out Hayley’s moods when we were married, and I have no intention of going down that road again.
The contents in my stomach pour out of me. The headache I had a minute ago subsides, and I feel a little better once I clean up and peek in on the kids, who, just like Faith said, were safely tucked in bed, sleeping soundly.
No thanks to me.
I head to the shower, feeling physically better seeing the kids are okay, but feeling mentally worse about the way I parted with Faith. I didn’t even say thank you.
I’m an asshole, and I’m definitely not winning any Father Of The Year awards.
I’ll have a couple of hours when I wake up in the morning to talk to her. I’ve got her number now, and I owe her that much. Hell, I owe her more than that. After all, she looked after my kids when she didn’t have to, and all I’d done in return was act like a big fucking jerk.
Chapter 6
Faith
I can’t believe he did that. Came back, looked me in the eyes, and gave me no thanks whatsoever for looking after his children while he was out there being a hockey puck hero.
He may be sexy as hell, but he can’t go around treating peopl
e like that. Especially his children. He showed up well over an hour after he was supposed to. Did he honestly think we were just going to sit and wait for him that long at the concession stand?
Judging by his reaction toward me, I doubt he even cares what I might think of him.
The thing is, I don’t even know what to think of him. I don’t care that he’s a big NHL star anymore. He’s a jerk, that much is obvious. So, why, once he showed his true colors, did I want to turn around and go back to his room after it was clear he was about to be sick?
Maybe because, as upset as I was, and still am, I still wanted to make sure he was okay.
I shake my head, thinking about Darcy’s quick thinking. Dad was ready to call the cops. He’d had enough of the waiting when he realized that none of the team had come back to the hotel yet. Darcy, in all her mini-adult glory, dragged me down to the reception desk with her, pretending that I was Isobel. Luckily, we both have dark hair. The receptionist recognized Darcy and assumed that she was telling the truth about losing the room key. I came up to their suite with them after reassuring Dad that I would be okay to spend a few hours there until Tristan showed up.
Darcy even suggested I sleep in her suite, which was innocently adorable in its own right. That was where I found the note with Tristan’s number on it, meant for Isobel. Thank God, because the little girl fell asleep so fast I couldn’t bring myself to wake her up and ask for it.
So, I sent him a message telling him we were at the hotel. I should’ve known he and the team would be late, but when I wasn’t permitted into the dressing room areas, and really wanted to avoid causing a stir, what other choice had I been left with other than to take the kids back to the hotel?
I knew that if Tristan hadn’t shown up within a few hours, my dad would insist on calling the police. I could just imagine the big media circus that would result in. The last thing I wanted to be known as was the woman who accused Tristan Wright of abandoning his kids so he could play a game.
I sigh. My night will be spent being curious about him, letting him invade my thoughts. Right or wrong, I want to find out what I can about him. So, I do what anybody would do, I Google him. Google knows everything. As I start tapping away, I see all the headlines with his name in them. Details and speculation about his personal life, beginning about three years ago. There’s something about him going to rehab, too, just after his wife died tragically, but I don’t read it.
As much as I try and excuse his behavior, I can’t help but feel that there’s something wrong with this whole set-up. He came out of rehab and started playing right away, after being sold to Arizona. The same team that sold him four years before his trouble began.
Maybe there’s a story there. Maybe not. But I want to see more about him. Know more about him. But, apart from his less than stellar performances and his dead wife, there’s little more to find out in cyberspace. It’s as if he disappeared up until recently, turning from a ghost to a shining star after tonight’s game.
Let it go, I tell myself.
I close my eyes with Tristan still on my mind, frustrated by him, and angered by him. But also curious, and very much intrigued.
***
I wake up in the morning with my mind still stuck on him. I have a quick shower and put on the same jeans I wore last night. I hate doing that, but I don’t have a large wardrobe. At least the rest of my ensemble is freshly washed.
I run my fingers through my hair and tie it up, still damp. I shouldn’t want to, but as I close the door to my apartment, I hesitate. I have to drive to Dad’s place to take inventory of the concession stock we keep in his garage, but I have the overwhelming urge to drive to the Four Seasons instead. I tell myself it’s because I just want to make sure Darcy and Ferguson are okay, but I know better. I shouldn’t want to go there. At all.
And I continue to tell myself that as I drive in the opposite direction to the hotel. Tristan’s suite door looms before me. I idly wonder if he’s still asleep, leaving the kids to fend for themselves while he does so.
My mind’s telling me to head home. I’ve done my job. Hell, a lot more than that. But my feet stay planted in front of his door.
The door opens, and my heart leaps into my throat at the sight of him.
“Hey, Faith.” He sounds a bit surprised, but his mouth forms a perfect, dashing grin. “I was just about to call you.” His grin falters slightly.
He’s embarrassed. Good. He should be.
But he’s also freshly showered and not the mess that I saw in the early hours of the morning. He looks good, damn good, and even from here I can tell he smells good, too.
“Oh. Well, I just wanted to say goodbye to the kids.” Even to my own ears, it sounds weak and feeble.
Tristan takes a step back, motioning for me to come into the room.
“They’re just getting ready,” he informs me, then runs a hand through his hair. “Listen, Faith. Darcy told me you promised her you’d stay last night as long as she needed you to, and I just have to say a big thank you for that. If it wasn’t for you, I don’t know what I would’ve done. And should’ve told you that as soon as I walked through that door last night. I’m sorry.”
He’s staring at me, and I’m staring right back. I feel uneasy about the way he’s looking at me. Yes, I’m the one who’s technically invading his space, but it was just as much my space last evening, and that’s his own damn fault. Then again, if I weren’t so desperate to catch a glimpse of him again, I wouldn’t be knocking on his door.
“I need to find a way to repay you,” he adds.
“Excuse me?” I watch as he fishes in his duffle bag for his wallet and starts counting out some bills.
“I don’t want your money. I looked after your children because I didn’t want to see them left alone, unsupervised. Or worse.” It comes out without thinking, and I know how brash I sound. I don’t know him, and he’s been through a shitstorm with his nanny. I'm being harsh. He’s apologized, so I should really let it be, but I can’t. I’m worried, because there’s no nanny to protect these kids. And based on the way Tristan acted last night, I’m not sure if they have a very attentive father, either.
He holds out his hand as his cellphone starts to ring shrilly. “One minute, Faith. I’ve got to take this call.” He moves past me, heading toward the bathroom.
This is my time to run, I think. I made a mistake in coming here, and everything inside me is willing me to get out of here as quickly as I can. He’s playing me, and this nice-guy act is just that—an act. He doesn’t actually appreciate me or what I did, he’s just relieved he got through it without the cops getting involved.
And now he’s offering me money, purely because I’m the one who helped him get away with it.
Chapter 7
Tristan
“Mom, are you sure?”
She sounds frail on the phone, and I feel selfish for even asking her to come to the game.
“Yes,” she assures me. “I’m fine, I swear. See, I didn’t want you to be worried about me. I just had a fall. Then, the doctor was worried about a blood clot, and I had to have a few tests. But, I’m just here resting. Your father refuses to leave my side. Tristan, are you there?”
“Yes,” I say, my throat thick with emotion. I’m trying to take it all in, everything she’s saying. First, I lose my nanny—which isn’t such a fucking loss considering what she did, but still—and now my mom is sick.
I have a game in three days and my head’s fucking spinning. I can’t do this. “Mom, I think I should come home...”
Before I have a chance to say another word, she scoffs at the notion. “No way. You’ve got to get to Colorado and make us proud. Remember when they said Tristan Wright couldn’t make a comeback? You showed them that you could, and we’re so proud of you for that.”
I want to tell her the truth—that it’s not just about her fall. That I have no one to look after the kids. They should be going to school, but there’s no way that I can send them home
alone.
But, to put that on Mom right now would be low, even for me. And completely, utterly selfish. What a fucking mess. “Mom, just keep me in the loop as to how you’re doing, okay?”
I can practically hear her smile on the other end of the phone. “Tristan, you go make us proud, and I’ll see you soon. Okay?”
I nod. “Sure. Love you.”
She hangs up, and I slump against the bathtub, wondering how and what I’m going to tell my coach. I need to get out of here. My kids didn’t come first last night. But they sure as hell will today.
***
There’s a knock on the bathroom door, and I look at the time. Shit, we should be getting ready to head down to breakfast and out of here.
“Come in.”
Faith’s dark eyes appear as the door creaks open slowly. I’m sitting on the edge of the bathtub, but I stand up immediately at the sight of her, feeling silly about the way I’ve treated her to date. I don’t even know her, and already I’ve left my kids with her, taken advantage of her kindness, and then offended her by offering her money.
“The kids are ready to go to breakfast. I need to go.”
I’ve been such an asshole to her, and yet she’s still looking after my kids, going above and beyond when I’ve shown little appreciation. “Sure, of course. We really need to be going home, too.”
She shuts the door behind her, locking us in the tiny space together.
“But you have a game in Colorado. How come you’re going home?”
I find her statement a bit strange. She lives in Boston. I thought she’d follow her home team, not the opposition.
“I know, but there’s no one to look after the kids since Isobel...” I can’t even say it out loud. “Since she did what she did. I need to put those two first.” A sigh escapes my lips. “I shouldn’t have left you with them the way I did last night, Faith. I know that. And I’m sorry. I really do mean that. It was an asshole thing to do. Especially when I didn’t even thank you for looking after them during the game, seeing as Isobel couldn’t be bothered to do it herself.”