by Anna Sugden
Rosa’s words from the last time they’d chatted echoed in her head. “He’s Sophia’s dad. Tell him to step up.”
“J.B.’s the one with the job,” Issy had argued.
“You have a job, too,” her sister had countered. “Taking care of your daughter.”
“I know, but I’m only able to stay at home and look after Sophia full-time because J.B. gives me money. The least I can do is support him. Besides, this is an important time of year with the playoffs about to start.”
“Other people manage it. He can, too,” Rosa had huffed. “The more you let him get away with, the more he’ll take advantage.”
An impatient kick of her daughter’s tiny legs brought Issy back to the present. Assuming things worked out, they’d also put their relationship on a more formal footing. That’s when she’d lay down some parenting ground rules.
Once Sophia finished feeding, Issy lifted her up onto her shoulder and rubbed her back.
A sound from the doorway startled her. She looked up to see J.B. leaning against the doorframe, shirtless and wearing only a pair of unbuttoned jeans.
Issy’s mouth went dry at the sight of his smooth brown skin, the corded muscles in his arms and legs and his impressive six-pack. No matter how many times she saw his body, it always had the same effect on her.
Their daughter chose that moment to release her trapped gas.
J.B. chuckled. “She should get a gold medal for her burps. There are Ice Cats who’d be proud to be that good.”
Issy rolled her eyes. “That’s such a male thing to be impressed by.”
“Her lung power is a constant source of awe. Especially in the middle of the night. After Ice Man’s snoring, I thought I could sleep through anything. Bellita proved me wrong.”
Though there wasn’t any censure in his voice, Issy sensed his frustration. “I’m sorry she woke you. I know you’ve got an early practice today, before the team bus heads to Philly.”
“She may be gorgeous, but her sleeping habits suck.”
Issy bristled. “Sophia can’t help it. That’s the only way she knows to communicate with us. She’ll grow out of it eventually.”
“Yeah. I know.” J.B. pulled on his T-shirt. “Since I’m awake, I’ll head home and try to catch some shut-eye.”
“But it’s barely five o’clock. We should get a couple of uninterrupted hours now.” She crossed her fingers.
He tucked his shirt into his jeans. “I’ve got to get my gear ready, anyway, so I might as well get going now. Then I can roll out of bed and hit the road.”
“Okay.” She forced a bright tone despite her disappointment that he couldn’t get away fast enough. “I’ll see you when you get back.”
“About that.” J.B. rubbed his hand over his jaw. “The last week of the season is pretty crammed, so it’s probably better if I stay at my place.”
“I understand.” She did. Really. “Have a good game. Sophia and I will be cheering you on.”
“I’ll try to stop by when I have a minute. But if I don’t get a chance, I’ll see you in the three-day break before the playoffs start.”
Issy wished she had a busy schedule of her own so it didn’t seem as if she was sitting around waiting for him. “Fine.”
“I’ll call later.” J.B. kissed the top of Sophia’s head. “See you soon, Bellita.” He then kissed Issy lightly on the lips. “I’ll grab my shoes and see myself out.”
Issy rocked the chair, her focus determinedly on her drowsy daughter. She didn’t stop even when she heard the front door close.
Finally, when Sophia’s lids closed, Issy eased herself out of the chair and laid her baby in her crib. Issy returned to the rocking chair. She told herself it was because she was wide-awake and wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, but the truth was she didn’t want to return to her cold, empty bed.
“Better get used to it,” she said softly. “This will be a feature of the next few months.”
The thought that this might be the best she’d ever get from J.B. preyed on her mind.
As dawn’s gray light filtered into the nursery, Issy realized that despite her good intentions, she’d somehow allowed J.B. to dictate their relationship. Just as she had with her family growing up, she’d begun making allowances for him and putting his needs ahead of hers.
It was time to take a step back. J.B. wasn’t the only one who had a decision to make.
* * *
“HOW THE MIGHTY have fallen.”
“Bite me, Kasanski,” J.B. said, flipping off his roommate—who’d just walked through the hotel room door—without raising his gaze from the thriller he’d been reading.
“I’m normally the one swearing at you when you skate in right on curfew.” Ice Man hung his jacket in the closet and dropped onto his bed. “Looks like the little woman has you toeing the line like a rookie. Not that you ever did when you were new to the show.”
“Yeah, yeah.” The razzing he’d had since the playoffs had begun was getting old. “Pass the freaking pipe and slippers.”
“Touchy. Just sayin’ you’re a new man since you’ve become a dad. Jean-Baptiste Larocque has finally settled down and joined the old, boring folks.”
J.B. reined in a cutting retort. Ice Man’s divorce wasn’t long final and he hadn’t taken it well. He’d been cutting wild and loose ever since. “I can still beat your ass on and off the ice, any day of the week.”
Rick’s grin was feral. “I’d challenge you to put that to the test...both on and off the ice...but you’d wimp out.”
“Like hell. You’re on. Tomorrow’s game and the celebration after. Sure you can keep up, old man?”
“I’ll be the one making sure we have something to celebrate.”
“As long as one of us does, I’ll be happy.”
Tomorrow was a crucial game seven—like there were any noncrucial game sevens—but if they could get through this first round against the Canadiens, the Cats had a really good chance of going all the way. It shouldn’t have happened that they played their toughest opponent in the first round, but that’s the way things had worked out.
Injuries had decimated Montreal in the last month of the season, dropping them into the final wild-card spot. Which meant that instead of facing the Cats in the Eastern Conference Final, as the pundits had predicted, the matchup was occurring at the beginning of the playoffs. Throughout the regular season, the Canadiens were the one team who’d had the Cats’ number, beating them in all but one game. So New Jersey hadn’t taken their progression past the Habs for granted.
Except, they kind of had.
J.B. couldn’t believe they’d let a 3-1 series lead slip away. Bonehead penalties at the wrong time, lazy defensive play, weak-assed power plays and one spectacularly unfortunate, fluky-as-hell puck bounce—off Ike’s back and into the net—and the series was tied.
How many times did guys have to be told to stick to the damn system, play the damn game and don’t get freaking cocky when they’re ahead?
“We’ll make it happen.” Ice Man grabbed the TV remote and flipped through the channels. “Make sure you have your dancing shoes on and your wallet full, because I plan to bleed you dry.”
J.B.’s reply was a creative suggestion for where Kasanski could stuff his dick.
He gave the impression he’d returned to reading his book, but J.B.’s mind wasn’t on the intricate, twisted plot. He’d be glad for a break from the guys, even if only for one day, before the next round began.
Though they had home-ice advantage, so were playing game seven in their own barn, the team had been staying at a hotel close to the arena the night before each game. Something they’d started last year, to help keep them focused by minimizing external distractions. They weren’t prisoners in the hotel—the team went out together for dinner and then various groups found some form of evening entertainment before curfew.
Usually, J.B. chafed at the restriction and was the first to break out to find the nightlife. But after last seaso
n’s disappointment, he wasn’t letting anything get in the way of victory. That meant returning to the room and reading, listening to music or playing mindless computer games on his tablet. Completely chilled, no aggravation, resting mind and body.
Speaking of which, he should make his nightly call to Issy and Sophia. His stomach twisted a little at the thought. What new problem would Issy have for him tonight?
Since J.B. had opted to sleep at his place for the duration of the playoffs, he’d found it tough not seeing them every day. He didn’t regret his decision; it was better for him to keep his distance. Apart from needing undisturbed sleep, he didn’t need the constant stress.
Issy worried about every little thing to do with their daughter and insisted on bringing him into every decision, no matter how small. When he’d tried to discuss it with her, she’d been angry and said he was supposed to be taking an active part in Sophia’s life.
“You know, like actually help take care of her,” she’d snapped. “Babies don’t put their needs on hold for Cup Finals. I’m struggling here. I can’t do this on my own. I need you.”
He’d tried to be patient, though he was tired of the same old argument. He’d also resisted pointing out that if he’d decided not to be in the picture, she’d have had to handle it alone. “Can’t you get help from the other Cats’ wives? They must know people who can give you a hand with child care for a few weeks. A nanny or something.”
“Sophia doesn’t need a nanny. She needs her mommy and her daddy.”
“I’m doing the best I can. I know it’s tough on you, but it’s only for a couple more months, tops.”
Since then, every call had been filled with tension. She obviously felt let down by him, and he felt the same about her. The problem was that this was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid. Yet he’d still been dragged into the baby-family-parent trap.
He’d thought about ending their relationship. Several times. But he didn’t want to walk away from his daughter—or Issy—for good. There had to be a middle ground.
As if he’d summoned her, J.B.’s phone rang and Issy’s name showed on the Caller ID. He was tempted to let it go to voicemail. Tonight, of all nights, he didn’t need another fight. Then again, he might as well get this done.
And what did that say about his relationship with Issy? Do not go there.
He forced himself to be upbeat when he answered. “Hey, Bella.”
At first, he couldn’t make out what she was saying because she was crying and Sophia was screaming in the background. Each wail, like nails on a chalkboard, sent a shiver down his spine.
Really? Tonight? Crap. “Whoa, slow down. What’s going on? Sounds like Bellita’s having a bad night again.”
“I need you to come quickly. There’s something wrong with Sophia,” Issy sobbed.
Much as he adored his kid, she seemed to have a lot of nights where something was wrong and they’d yet to figure out what it was.
He injected calm into his voice, though that was the last thing he felt. “She’ll wear herself out soon and settle down.”
“You don’t understand. Sophia’s sick. She’s spiking a temperature and I can’t get hold of her pediatrician. I don’t know what to do.”
His chest squeezed so tight, he could hardly breathe. His little girl was ill?
J.B. took a deep breath and repeated what one of the older, married players had told him only this evening. “It’s probably nothing serious. Babies get temperatures all the time. Call Maggie or Tracy. They’ll know what to do.”
“I tried, but I’m not getting any answer.”
“Okay. Hold on one second.” He caught Ice Man’s attention and explained quickly. “Get Jake or Ike here ASAP.”
“On it.” His roommate launched to his feet and sprinted out of their room.
“We’ll get you help, Issy. Did you try Sapphie?”
“She’s in Chicago.”
It didn’t escape his notice that Sapphie didn’t get grief for not being able to get to Issy’s side yet again. “If we can’t get someone to you, we’ll call 9-1-1 and get you an ambulance.”
“I’m scared. I can’t handle this alone. Please come home.”
J.B. swore silently. Of all the things to demand of him, this was the one he absolutely couldn’t do.
He rose and started to pace the small room. “You know I can’t, Bella. Curfew starts in ten minutes. If I break it, I don’t play tomorrow.”
“This is an emergency. They have to let you go.”
“The rule is the rule. No exceptions.”
“Your daughter’s ill and you’re worried about rules?” Her short laugh was bitter.
It wasn’t fair. Any other time he’d be prepared to miss a game for his daughter. But this wasn’t just any game. It was the game and his team was depending on him.
Issy and Sophia are depending on you, too.
“Trust me, if there was any way I could get there, Bella, I would.”
“There is a way. You don’t want to choose it.”
There it was. The moment he’d been dreading. The point at which he had to make a decision—family or hockey.
He thought about going to Coach Macarty and asking for a dispensation. The worst his coach could do was say no. But even as J.B. considered it, he started to balk and find excuses. It was already late. Who knew how long this would take? He couldn’t afford not to be on his game tomorrow. He couldn’t drop everything and run to Issy every time there was an issue.
In the end, there was only one answer he could give. “I can’t.”
“Some father you are. When push comes to shove, nothing matters but that stupid game.”
“It’s my job. My career. This is what I’ve been working for all—” He broke off and pounded the bed with his fist. What was the damn point?
Ice Man rushed back into the room, Jake hot on his heels.
“I got hold of Maggie,” Jake said, holding up his cell. “She’s leaving now and will be with Issy shortly. She’ll get her to a doctor or the hospital or whatever’s needed.”
A solution. Not the one Issy wanted, but better than nothing. “Did you hear that? Maggie’s on her way. She’ll help you and stay with you.”
“It would be better if you were here.”
“I know,” he cajoled. “But at least this way you won’t be alone. And Maggie’s been through this with Emily and Joe, so she’ll be way more help than me.”
“I should go. My daughter needs me,” Issy said coolly.
The deliberate dig was like a spear to his chest. He deserved it, he knew, but it still hurt. “Keep me posted.”
“I don’t want to interfere with your precious night’s sleep.”
He sighed. “Give me a break, Issy. I’m doing the best I can.”
“Tell that to your daughter.” She disconnected.
J.B. swore and tossed his cell onto the bed.
“It’ll be okay, bro.” Jake laid his hand on J.B.’s shoulder. “Stuff like this is always hard the first time it happens.”
Ice Man nodded. “You couldn’t have done anything else.”
“Tell Issy that. She thinks I’m pond scum.”
“Always said she had her head screwed on straight.” Kasanski ducked as a crumpled soft drink can whizzed past his left ear. “Kidding. Hang tough. The first year’s the worst. She’ll get used to the demands of being with a hockey player.”
“Or not.” J.B. winced; Rick’s wife hadn’t cut it.
Ice Man’s shrug looked careless but hid a wealth of hurt. “My case was different. She loved the status and attention we got back home, but couldn’t handle it when we were pretty much nobodies here in Jersey. I hear she’s dating one of the Jets’ linebackers.” He lay back down on his bed, his laced fingers beneath his head. “Issy’ll come around.”
Jake nodded. “Once the panic’s over, she’ll calm down and it’ll all be fine. Maggie will set her straight, I’m sure.”
“I appreciate her help.”
> “Let me know when you hear anything.” Jake headed out of the room.
J.B. acknowledged him by touching his finger to his temple in a salute. He then strode over to the window and stared out at the parking lot. Worrying about Sophia wouldn’t help, but he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else until he knew the outcome.
This was exactly why he hadn’t wanted to get involved in the first freaking place. He didn’t do responsibility well. He didn’t want to have to do it well.
He was twenty-freaking-five, for God’s sake. In his prime. He wanted to be free to do what he wanted and not have to think about anyone else. He didn’t want to have to second-guess every freaking decision. Or feel bad if he had to make a decision that was right for him but sucked for anyone else.
Because of Sophia, he was trying his best to temper his admittedly self-centered needs. But Issy was making it impossible with her constant demands and lack of patience.
All he’d asked for was two freaking months’ grace. The playoffs would be over in early June. Then he’d be free to play “happy families” or “mommies and daddies” or whatever the freaking game was all summer long.
He didn’t want to walk away from his daughter, but he didn’t want to be tied down. For sure, he didn’t want to get married and settle down. There had to be a middle ground. Divorced parents managed it, so why shouldn’t parents who’d never been married?
He cared for Issy—a lot more than he’d ever imagined he would—but he was tired of always feeling as though he was letting her down. Where was the compromise on her part?
She’d promised him two months and he planned to keep her to that promise.
Even with the decision made, he couldn’t concentrate on his book while he waited for Maggie’s call, so he watched one of the Western Conference playoff games on TV.
A short while later Maggie phoned. “Sophia’s doing fine. I got hold of my pediatrician and she suggested we take her straight to the hospital because of her age and the fact that she was a preemie. They’ve run a bunch of tests and it looks like she’s got a viral infection.”