Page 76 of Fighting Chance

we’ll go one at a time

IRVING

shot gun going first!

I’m the favorite uncle

KIERAN

who the hell said you were an uncle?

IRVING

me

duh

Adrenaline courses through my bloodstream the second my skates hit the ice, along with a hum of anticipation as my eyes cut to the group behind the home bench. Before I know it, the corner of my lip is lifting.

Last night I called Coach Anderson to ask for a favor—a fact which left him speechless because I’ve never requested one before, not once in my seven years of playing on his team.

And in true Ashford fashion—as he called it—I asked for a large one.

After Layla told me about the receptionist at the therapist’s office, I knew it was only a matter of time before my new life and Emmy’s horrid story were leaked to the press. I’ve had such major life events be completely out of my control lately that I didn’t want this decision to be taken away from me too.

I want to tell the world on my own timeline, and although the receptionist is certainly hurrying me along, at least I’ll know that the tabloids and puck bunnies posting about Emmy and me are because I made the choice to go public first.

My publicist is about to get a hefty pay raise to keep the gruesome details under wraps. No one needs to know how we were reunited, all they get to know is that she’s mine and I’m proud and happy that she’s in my life. The last thing I want is Emmy to grow up and have her peers be able to Google the worst moment of her life.

Grayson skates up beside me, the number 33 flashing on his jersey next to my 47. “Are you ready for this?”

I blow out a breath, looking over to the home bench again. Layla’s holding Emmy, who’s decked out in all the gear the guys bought her for the first game of the season. Bella and Cindy flank them, along with Allie and Carlton, as if they’re all protecting my daughter, but as an added precaution, I bought out three rows of seats around them so they wouldn’t be disturbed.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“I’m right here beside you. We’re all here beside you,” Grayson says roughly, flicking his chin at the home bench. “Every step of the way, Ashford.”

Nodding, I clasp him on the back in gratitude before skatingoff toward the home bench. Coach lifts his head, and while I’m beginning to sweat, my nerves getting the better of me, the bastard just smiles as I stop beside him, spraying ice over the boards.

“You feeling all right, Coach?” I ask.

“Better than all right.” He claps his hands together, making my brows rise.

I think the last time I saw him this cheerful was when we won the Stanley Cup.

He peers behind the bench before turning back to me, that smile all but glued on his face. “She looks like you.”

I can’t help but mirror his smile, my cheeks heating.Since when do I blush?“I’ve been told that a few times.”

“This is a good thing, Kieran. A marvelous thing,” he tells me.

“I believe so too, Coach.”

“Now, are you doing this before the game or after? Do I need to call security to prepare for a frenzy?”

I didn’t even think about that.

I thought about Emmy needing space and earmuffs for the sound. The guys thought about all the adorable little clothes like scarfs and beanies that currently swarm her small frame, all black and white, representing IceHawks. How could I have planned for everything but security? I feel like slapping myself; some of the puck bunnies are borderline psychotic.