Page 118 of Put a Rink on It

Lennon indulges her with a grin Aubrey doesn’t see. “Will do.” She rubs circles over her abdomen. “My belly is ready.”

The youngest girl with the name of a city I can’t recall says, “Same.”

Laughter erupts throughout the kitchen.

This is what my life’s been missing for years. I’m so glad my future includes many more days exactly like this.

APRIL

“Wow. Wow. Wow,” Lennon exclaims, taking in everything around her. Decked out in Nautilus gear, she’s cataloging every detail about the Hartford Nautilus locker room, spinning in circles in the middle of the room. “This is amazing. I can’t believe I’m here.” She darts to my empty locker, standing on the seat, running her hand over my last name.

I got permission from team management to give her a tour of the building after tonight’s game and asked a few of the players to stick around so she could ask questions. Schurbatski and Novak agreed immediately, and her questions have been nonstop. I’ve never seen her so animated and shy at the same time, her brain spiraling nearly out of control with new information. It’s adorable.

Walsh has thanked me no fewer than a dozen times for fulfilling this dream of his daughter’s—not only attending her first professional game, but the stadium tour and meeting with the players. I went above and beyond for her because she’s Marina’s niece, but her appreciation is unmatched, even by her father’s. Even through her excitement, she’s respectful. Despite being a young dad, Walsh is incredible.

Spending time with her and Aubrey has solidified my decision to knock Marina up as soon as she’ll let me. Which, if given some of her comments, can be whenever.

It won’t be easy for her with my travel schedule, but my time in the league is numbered, and then I’ll be there full-time for her and our kids.

I can’t freaking wait.

I’ve even got a list of potential names in a secret notebook.

I drape my arms over Marina’s shoulders, and she lounges against me, my favorite place for her to be. Now that everything’s out in the open, I don’t shy away from touching her whenever I can.

“Dad, how come you didn’t want to play pro hockey?” Lennon pesters. “I mean, look at all you’d get to do here.” She waves her hand around the space we’re standing in.

“Are the facilities at Aspenridge suddenly not good enough for your taste?” Walsh fires back, not missing a beat.

She fists her hands on her hips. “Compared to this? Is that even a real question?” Her eyes roll, and I’m not the only one holding back my laughter. “Plus, you don’t even play hockey.”

Walsh puts his hand over his chest. “I play hockey.”

“In the dads’ league,” Lennon snarks. “That’s not a real league. Nero’s hockey is way cooler than yours.”

She’s too young to understand the nuances of it all, especially how hard playing at the professional level is, the sacrifices you have to make. He wouldn’t be the father he is today had his path been different. One day she’ll understand.

Our tour concludes in the lobby. The fans have left, leaving only the Keeley family, Schurbatski, and Novak.

Lennon rushes over to me, throwing her arms around my waist. “Thank you, Nero. This was the best day of my life, and I’m never gonna forget it. Also, good job scoring your goal. I wish I could make my hands move like yours.”

I lean down to embrace her. “You’re so welcome, Lennon. It was my pleasure to have you in the stands as my guest. Keep practicing all your hockey skills, and maybe one day, you’ll be the professional player getting to do all this.”

She slips away from my hold, her face alight with more joy than earlier. “I should start right now.” She glances toward her father. “Keeley, is your rink open now?”

“Oh, now my rink’s good enough for ya, huh?”

“Yeah, ‘cause I don’t have my hockey bag to skate at Nero’s rink.”

A peal of laughter breaks out.

I tousle her messy ponytail. “Tell ‘em, kid. Can’t play hockey without your equipment.” I hold up my hand in solidarity, and she wastes no time high-fiving me.

“I’ll see what the schedule looks like tomorrow, but Nero’s gonna be at Aspenridge for a clinic in July. Want me to see if I can get you on the roster?” Lennon’s jaw drops, her vision bouncing from her dad to me, any comeback caught in her throat at the prospect, until she leaps into his arms. “I’ll take that as a yes. ‘Dad of the Year’ trophy coming right up.”

Another round of amusement ensues while she plants kisses all over his face.

I pull Marina close to my side, fitting her flush against me. “Why is he getting all the credit when I’m the one who has the skills to teach her to be a better player?” I muse in her ear, totally kidding.