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“What the hell, kiddo?” Andrew lifted a chest protector and located the price tag. He turned one hell of a glare on me. “You have twelve seconds to start explaining.”
“I swear I don’t know what this is,” I replied, raising my hands in defense. “I’m innocent, Dad.”
The word had slipped out.Whyit had slipped out was beyond me, because we both knew I had a dad.Had. Past tense. He was gone, but he could never be replaced. I knew that, and so did Andrew. We both knew I wasn’t trying to replace him either.
I had spent eight hours a day, five days a week with Andrew. He had taken me under his wing, protected me, supported me, and gone out of his way to show that he cared.
And right now, he was the closest thing I had to a parent. He was my found family.
Flicking the knife closed, Andrew tucked it in his pocket and crossed the room toward me. When he neared, I stared up at him, unsure what he was going to do. He wouldn’t tell me he wasn’t my dad…would he?
Andrew yanked me into a tight hug. He kissed the top of my head over and over, swinging us back and forth. “Never thought I’d get the chance to have someone call me that.”
I would never have my dad in my life again, and Andrew would never have kids. His wife didn’t want them, and he would never pressure her. He was wild about Diane. So, they had dogs. Three of them. And four cats. I think they also had a rabbit.
I brought my arms up and hugged him back.
I needed this. But I think Andrew needed it more.
When we pulled back, Andrew’s eyes were glassy. He cleared his throat and tugged his brows down.
“Clean up this mess, kiddo. And your room, too.” He pointed into my office that was much cleaner than his. “Looks like a bomb went off in there.”
With a wink, Andrew grabbed a box and carried it to the equipment room.
“LEAVE IT!” he yelled from the end of the hall, completely out of view, when I picked up a box.
“I’m not made of sugar,” I grumbled and moved down the hall.
Andrew yanked the box from my grasp. “Humor your old man, would ya?” He turned, and I heard him murmuring to himself. “I’m Dad. Yep, that’s me. Dad. Maybe I should teach her how to fix her car. Do I know how to fix a car? I need to learn.”
I called Denise back while Andrew carried the boxes to the equipment room, grunting and groaning and complaining the entire time. I helped Denise fill out the application over the phone, gave her the Power Play email address—that was listed on the application—and told her when I had received the application.
The equipment room looked much smaller when it was filled with boxes. Andrew had them all opened, and he was staring at them with his hands on his hips.
“I just don’t understand. Where did this all come from? Brand new gear…”
Looking closer at a shipping label, I noticed another name below mine.Hartford Hammerheads – Power Play.
Why were the Hammerheads listed too?
“Zach,” I sighed.
“Renshaw?” Andrew stated, and his eyes narrowed. “I want you being smart, kiddo. No boy is worth losing yourself in the process, you hear me?”
I chuckled. “You’re adjusting well to your new role.”
Andrew nodded firmly. “Damn right. What makes you think this all comes from Renshaw?”
I tapped on the shipping label as I pulled my phone from the pockets of my slacks. Andrew peered at the label on the closest box to him. I took a picture of the label, and then of the junior elbow pads with tags on them and sent both pictures to Zach with zero context.
He was the one who needed to fill in the blanks, not me.
As always, Zach was quick to reply.
Zach
AHL discount ;-)
