Muss slapped me on the back. “Man, I’m so fucking glad to hear it.” He dropped his voice low. “You’re gonna be an amazing dad, River. I know it in my heart. Julieta always says it when she sees you with the kids at parties.” Muss and Julieta had four kids between the ages of one and seven. We joked that he wanted to have a baby for every Stanley Cup win he’d had in his career.

I shrugged. “Never had much of an example, man. But they have DIY videos on the internet for everything now, including how to be a parent.”

Muss just nodded. I didn’t talk much about my past, and he never pressed. But I think, on some level, he knew that my childhood had been a giant fuck-up.

He gripped my shoulder again. “I’m here if you need me. Julieta said you guys should come over for dinner soon. I’m sure… what’s her name again?”

“Nova.”

“I’m sure Nova would like to know another mom in town. Some things you can only ask another woman, you know?”

I nodded. It was a good idea. “I’ll let you know.”

Muss punched me lightly in the chest. “You do that. Now get out there and run some two vs. twos. Ludo’s grandma could beat you right now.”

I rode home with Rigby, freshly showered but still aching from the workout. We’d be ready for this weekend's season opener, but it was against our bitter rivals, so I knew it was going to be a tough one. They were mouthy and mean, and I always wanted to punch their right winger in the face.

It was still mid-afternoon, and I couldn’t help but wonder what Nova and Huey had gotten up to today. Dev had taken the day off to get them settled, but tomorrow he’d have to go back to work. He’d been away too long, and I knew his little control freak heart would be losing it.

Would she be okay, home by herself all day with a baby? She’d looked so lost last night, staring at the photo of her parents, and it was easy to forget that we weren’t the only ones grieving. I’d wanted nothing more than to hold her in my arms last night, and the sensation scared the fucking shit out of me.

“We should talk about Nova.” For a moment, the silence in the car was weighty.

“Didn’t we already talk about this?” Rigby said lightly, his hands resting lightly on the steering wheel. It had taken six years of friendship for me to relinquish enough control to let him drive. I hated being out of control of my life, even with something as simple as driving.