by Mignon Mykel
And I fucking hated myself for that.
I hated that I hurt her enough for her to keep my daughter from me.
I cranked up the resistance on the bike I was using before practice, to try and ward off the direction of those thoughts.
Why did she keep Rori from me?
Why was it okay for her ignore my calls and refuse to bring Rori to me, but vice versa, and I was the bad guy?
As always when my thoughts went in this direction, my hurt started to grow to anger.
I tried to focus on the whizzing of the wheels instead of the words going through my head. The team’s weight room was still quiet—so quiet that the motion-activated lights kept turning off.
Someone was sure to join me in the next fifteen minutes or so, but I needed a moment to clear my head before the welcome party started. It was my first practice back with these guys and I was torn between excitement at being back, and fear for what bridges I may have burned when I left just over five years before.
I was sure Caleb, the team’s captain, had an idea of why the trade occurred and I couldn’t be sure if he would have kept that information to himself, or who on the team he would have told.
The team itself was still similarly structured to what it looked like before—Caleb Prescott with the C on his chest; his brother, Jonny, as the main goaltender; Trevor Winski, Mike Leeds, and Curtis Lindell the teams lead D-men…
It had been five years; of course, there were some changes but the structure of this team mostly stayed the same, season after season.
The motion-activated light flashed and I looked over my shoulder as Winski walked into the room.
“Hey, man. How’s the head?” He stopped next to an open bike and picked at the legs of his shorts—readjusting the compression shorts he wore under his sweats—before mounting it.
I readjusted the resistance, tightening it up. “Good. It was only a minor hit.” Minor to guys like me and Winski was on a different scale than other players; minor still pushed me to the concussion list. If it wasn’t a high grade two concussion, it wasn’t worth calling a concussion.
“Cleared for practice today?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
“It’s good to see your shiny-assed head again.” Winksi chuckled to himself at his own joke. I’d been clean-shaving my head since junior year of high school. As I got bigger in the muscle department—and made a name for myself by cleaning the ice of competition, either by clean hits or dirty fights—I quickly earned the moniker “Mr. Clean.”
Back in my rookie season, Winski had been my mentor. I’d been tight with him and Caleb Prescott, something that eased rookie season growing pains. After the divorce, Winski would send me pictures of Rori, once, maybe twice, a month, but just like our chats, those eventually faded too.
Coming back was almost like old times.
Almost.
There was a slight strain where Winski was concerned, though, and I had a feeling it had a lot to do with Marlo. It was only a matter of time before he brought her up.
Winksi was quiet and it wasn’t until I was cleaning up my bike nearly five minutes later that he asked, “You see Marlo?”
I bunched my jaw tightly before nodding once. “Yeah.”
Maybe it was underhanded of me—okay, yeah, it was—to try and corner her and Rori in a public place, but I knew Marlo wouldn’t give me the time of day otherwise.
After the first few times Marlo refused the offer to stay at my parents for a weekend, I stopped holding my breath. I understood the saying you can’t have your cake and eat it too.
I left her because I found myself in the arms of another woman. I left her because that curious mistake had me wondering what life would be like with more than one woman for sexual experience.
The first few times with other women had been exciting—sex was exciting again. It wasn’t the strained emotion of just doing it that Marlo and I found ourselves in. But I started to miss my wife.
I’d wanted to be open to experiences, but because Marlo had been my constant for so long… I learned quickly how hard it was to adjust to life without her in it.
Coming home to an empty apartment. Not having ready-made plans.
Then there was Rori.
Pretty Aurora Grace, with her momma’s angelic face and light blonde hair. God, she looked so much like Marlo—if it weren’t for my eyes.
I’d known she was no longer the infant I held every night for a few weeks, or the chubby face toddler I’d see in pictures Winski sent. But being so close to her was different than pictures or video chatting. I could see she was very much a little girl and the thought made my chest ache.
It hurt to look at her, something I finally admitted to myself at the indoor treehouse place.
It was our trying to get pregnant with Rori that started the domino effect that lead up to the divorce. The changes were more than going from a family of two, to a family of three.
“Then it won’t be a problem that Marlo’ll be at the barbeque this weekend,” Winski said, continuing our conversation while my head was off in fucking la-la land.
I was glad that Marlo had some sort of family after I left, but fuck if the one I left for her then, wasn’t going to make things easy on me now. Being so close to Marlo, knowing without a doubt that I’d see her at team family events, was going to be difficult.
One thing I learned over the time I was away, was that I took what we had for granted. I let the difficulties drive a wedge between us.
And I fucking missed her—a realization that hit me square in the chest.
“Nope.” I said the word with a harder finality than I intended. “She actually mentioned it.”
I’d hopefully be hanging out with my daughter anyway, giving me some time to figure out the whole Marlo thing. I spent five years chasing a different dream.
A dream that didn’t include Marlo.
Now that she and I were once again in the same city, I was going to have to work through all the feelings I managed to work through that first year apart.
Was she seeing someone? Was he good to her? Good to Rori?
Would he be at the barbeque?
How would she feel if I brought someone to the barbeque? Not that I had anyone at the moment now, but what about when I eventually found someone?
How would Marlo feel?
Goddamn, she was still so fucking beautiful.
“Look, I know we’re friends,” Winski started, not breaking stride on his bike, “but don’t bring a girl if you’ve got one.”
“Dude, I just got here.” The words were light, but my chuckle was strained. How the hell Winski had somehow known my train of thoughts was some weird Jedi-shit.
I needed to get back into place with the team, and while Marlo being a sort of pseudo-family member was going to make things more difficult, I just wanted to see my daughter.
Marlo couldn’t keep her away from me when I was this close, and getting Rori back into my life was my first priority. Relationships—and figuring out how to get through my rush of feelings when it came to Marlo—were secondary.
Before I could leave the team’s gym though, Winski added, “It’s taken her a long time to move on. Just don’t fuck with her.”
Now I frowned. There was familiarity in his tone.
Had he been hanging out with Marlo more than I realized?
“What do you know of it?” I crossed my arms over my chest and regarded my friend. Did she move on with him? Was that the reason why what few conversations he and I had, dwindled to nearly nothing?
He just shook his head, his eyes locked on the wall in front of him. “You know damn well I hang with the Prescotts, and she does too. Just don’t fuck with her.”
There was a warning in his voice but I figured I had to be overreacting.
Friends didn’t go after friends’ once-hads, let alone ex-wives.
“Noted.”
Chapter Two
Marlo
I can pick you up.
&
nbsp; I chewed on my lower lip, my thumb hoovering over the reply button.
Trevor was a good friend, one who took on a sort of ‘big brother’ role after Jordan dropped the bombshell of a divorce on me. The problem was, though, that with Jordan back on the team…
Things were going to get uncomfortable. I could feel it.
Over the years, I’d learned to listen to my intuition and right now it was screaming that this was going to be bad. I was going to, yet again, lose the group I called family.
Finally, I replied. It’s okay. I may just drop Rori off to play with the boys.
I had a few custom cookie orders that came in earlier in the day that could keep me busy. Financially, Jordan set Rori and I up between the divorce and child support, but even when we were married I wasn’t one to live off his money. Shortly after the divorce, I opened an online cookie boutique, where I made cookie bouquets and designed sugar cookies. sugar&spice did more than enough for the two of us, and I was able to put all my maintenance money from the divorce, and most of Rori’s monthly support, into a fund for her.
Trevor’s response was quick. Don’t let him take away from you what you fought hard to get, Marlo.
I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t letting Jordan win.
That I wasn’t stepping back from my new “family,” just so Jordan could step back into his old muscle and grit role with the team…
But I kind of was.
It was easy to stay in the fold of the team when Jordan wasn’t around, but now that he was back…
The Enforcers were his family.
Not mine.
Once again, I was the outsider.
We’ll see you there, Trev.
I silenced my phone then, not waiting for his reply.
Trevor was a good guy. He was the one to talk me back into dating and while there weren’t many second dates, mostly because my focus was on Rori, I learned that dating was fun. Trevor also stepped in as a pseudo-uncle to Rori, and she loved him to pieces.
A few months ago, he came out of a long-term relationship and one night we stayed up and compared metaphorical scars. For being as tough as he was on the ice—like Jordan, Trevor was a heavy hitter—the man had a heart of gold. Each failed relationship of his had me questioning why, which usually lead to the question Why not us? but Trevor was too much like family.
“Rore?” I called out, sliding my phone in my back pocket. “We’ve gotta head out!”
“Coming, momma!”
Soon, I heard her feet pounding down the stairs—how her small frame made so much noise was beyond me—and then saw she was dragging a bag toward me. Peeking from the top of the bag was a pink hockey stick.
“Aurora, we don’t need to bring that stuff. The boys have it.”
“But I want to show my dad my hockey stuff.”
“Rori girl.” I sighed and gave her a smile, even though my heart was aching. Rori told Trevor once that she just knew if her dad knew she liked hockey, he’d want to play with her more. After Trevor told me, I cuddled my girl hard.
Oh, to be naïve and innocent…
“How about we leave it here for now, and you can show him tomorrow or something?”
If he wants to see you tomorrow, I couldn’t help but think snidely. How could he go five years without trying to see her? How could video chats be enough for him? I couldn’t even begin to fathom not wanting to see Rori every day.
The look that passed over her face, one of disappointment, had my heart aching more.
“Fine,” she answered quietly.
I crouched down to her level and gave her a soft smile. “I’m sure he’ll think your pink Sher-Wood is amazing.”
Rori’s answering smile was small and closed-lipped. I could see the hurt in her green eyes, though, and it killed me. I wasn’t generally a pushover with her, but just this once…
“Just your stick.”
Her entire face lit up as she shouted out in excitement and for the first time since knowing Jordan was coming back to San Diego, I had a sliver of excitement for today too.
I would do anything to keep my daughter happy.
Even if it was when she was trying to prove herself worthy of her father’s time.
“Are you staying long?”
I turned my head at Sydney’s voice, dragging my eyes away from where Rori was playing with Brandon in the sand. The team barbeque was at Caleb and Sydney’s gorgeous house on the beach. Really, though, ‘gorgeous’ was an understatement.
It wasn’t one of those untouchable houses that decorated the coastline. Their home was completely lived in, even though it sat on the beach and had amazing ocean views along the back. They had a heated pool—which wasn’t being used, although it wouldn’t be the first March party that a player ended up in the depths—and a concrete slab that was the current real estate for tables and chairs. Typically, the kids would play hockey on the slab but as it was, they were running around in the sand.
I shrugged a shoulder, answering Sydney. “For a little while anyway.” To be honest, I was ready to go now.
Jordan arrived about thirty minutes prior, and I could feel him.
I didn’t want to ‘feel’ him.
When Rori and I first arrived, Trevor pulled me aside, telling me he could watch Rori if I needed to head out. I didn’t want to take play-time from my daughter but I wasn’t entirely sure how much ‘Jordan’ I could handle. My biggest fear had been that he would bring a date to this shindig. I didn’t know anything about his personal life these days—I stopped searching the tabloids three years ago, after seeing a picture of him with a super model—and while he was free to do what he wanted…
I wasn’t ready to see it.
It had been five years; I should have been ready.
I just wasn’t there yet.
Thankfully, he arrived on his own, but who was to say the next event, the next get-together, the next run-in…he wouldn’t be solo.
“Trevor said he’d bring Rori home,” I further clarified.
“Before you go,” Sydney started, undoubtedly knowing I was on my way to do just that, “let’s make plans for breakfast with the kids. Brandon asked if we could go to The Brunch Spot in the morning.”
‘The Brunch Spot’ was an eclectic restaurant that only served brunch—with an amazing Bloody Mary bar and a live DJ. It was where the wives and girlfriends often went the mornings the guys had early practice.
I nodded. “We can do that.”
“You’re ready to leave now, aren’t you?” Her smile was kind and knowing.
I scrunched my nose as I nodded once more. “Yeah. I am.” I looked back over my shoulder to where the kids were playing. Besides Brandon and Brody, Rori was playing with Mikey Leeds’ boy. It amazed me that my daughter was such a girly-girl, when all her friends were boys.
I couldn’t stop the small smile from spreading as I watched my daughter laughing and having a good time.
This was for her.
All of this…
Being here. Sticking with the team.
It was for her.
The corners of my smile tightened as I moved my head to where I knew Jordan sat.
…And I hated that because of him, I didn’t feel like I had the right to share these moments with her anymore.
“She’s in good hands,” Sydney said, and I turned my attention back to her.
“Thank you.”
With one last parting glance toward my daughter, knowing she was with friends and family, I felt comfortable enough to leave.
I left the patio and headed into the house, all the while, feeling the pin prickle sensation of someone watching me. I didn’t need to look back to know Jordan’s green gaze was on me.
“Have you seen Trevor?” I asked one of the team’s forwards, Eric, as he came bounding down the stairs I was about to head up. “He’s going to bring Rori home, but I wanted to let him know I was heading out.”
Nodding, he answered, “Yeah. He just went to the beach by the kids
.”
“Thanks, Eric.” He nodded once, continuing on his way.
After stopping at the mini fridge to grab a water for Rori, I headed back to the door, returning briefly to the sand and sun.
Jordan
I had been at the Prescott house for a full thirty minutes and I hadn’t yet grown the balls to go up to my daughter.
Last week, my conversation with my daughter had been limited to, “Hello,” before Marlo came racing up the stairs frantically. Before that, contact with Rori was restricted to video chat conversations—conversations that never lasted more than ten minutes because not much could hold the attention of a child as young as she was.
Marlo never brought Rori to me and the one time I tried to go to them…
My chest tightened at the reminder.
Regardless, I’d dealt with the backlash of press. “Deadbeat” was a pretty popular opinion made by some in the media. They didn’t know the guilt I carried, though.
They didn’t know the half of it.
I could beat myself up a million ways to Sunday, but it wouldn’t change the decisions I’d made over the last years.
At this very moment, I didn’t know where Marlo was. She’d disappeared into the house a few minutes ago, but I had my eye on my daughter.
Five-years-old and already playing with the boys.
Then there was watching as Winski played with her and the boys.
I really wasn’t sure how I felt about that—like he was something more to her than just her mom’s friend. Like he was a father figure or something.
He was in the heap of kids, Rori hanging down his back. I couldn’t hear her laugh, but I could see it and the wide spread joy on my daughter’s face caused my chest to ache.
My friend stepped into my role.
At least, that’s what it was looking like.
“Did you hear a word I said, man?” Leeds said, punching my shoulder. We were sitting on white folding chairs. Some of the guys were shooting pool in Cael’s walkout basement, some out here throwing back beers. Jonny Prescott was manning the grill as his wife sat picking her manicure behind him.