Now that I had kids to think about, being careful with my money and investing wisely were more crucial than ever.

I was a father.

I’d been repeating those four words over and over all day, still not used to the sound of them. I vowed to be the best dad a guy could be. I hadn’t told anyone but my roommates yet, and they’d surprisingly kept their mouths shut. I’d eventually tell the entire team and my family, but right now I wanted time to adjust without others’ well-meaning interference.

My night went from bad to worse. I wasn’t doing anything right, as my skates had a mind of their own, my stick missed every pass, and my head wasn’t in the game.

I was fucking mad at myself. I trudged to the locker room and hung my head. The guys left me alone, allowing me to work out my bad game for myself. I’d had bad games before, and I’d risen above them. They happened to all of us. We were human after all.

And now I was moving Caro across the hall from me. I’d be lying if I pretended her presence wouldn’t have an effect on me. We had chemistry, and from the few times I’d been around her, that chemistry was as strong as ever.

I wasn’t looking for a relationship, and starting one up again with her would only cause problems when it ended. I had to maintain a polite and friendly distance for our children’s sakes. No options.

~~Caroline~~

I checked out and hurried to the airport as soon as Easton and I finished our talk this morning. I’d managed to snag a flight to Chicago at noon and was home before the first puck drop of the Sockeyes game.

Once I’d arrived home and collected the kids from their grandparents, I’d called my best friend, Juniper. While Fran and Howard were supportive and understanding, I needed someone who’d known me all my life and called me on my bullshit when I needed it. I’d met Juniper in first grade, and we’d been friends through high school. In fact, she’d been around that summer and met Easton and dated a few of his teammates. Juniper was coming off a bad divorce to a lazy, abusive asshole and needed me as much as I needed her.

She loved hockey, so it was a no-brainer that we’d end up watching the game.

Easton played like a man who’d just found out he was the father to a set of six-year-old twins, including his ass-plant on the ice, which was replayed over and over again throughout the game. I felt responsible for his crappy game. Nothing was going right for him tonight. I worried our presence might endanger his spot on the team, because I worried about everything.

“He’s playing like crap,” Juniper noted as Easton tripped over his own feet and passed the puck to an opposing player, who sailed down the ice and scored a goal.