Page 82 of A Major Puck Up

Tonight, Sara and Ava—the head of charitable relations for Langfield Corp—disappeared with Vivi, and then the team showed up with pizza and beer and a couple of cans of paint. Apparently, they decided we should paint Vivi’s room.

When I brought Vivi to a game, Sara lost her mind, saying she shouldn’t be out so late.

I get it, but what else was I supposed to do with her? I won’t leave Vivi with just anyone.

Since then, I’ve been paying Ava a ridiculous amount of overtime to travel with the team and help me take care of Vivi.

I hate every minute that I’m not with her. The memory of finding her all alone, knowing her mother left her there, will forever haunt me. No child should ever feel abandoned, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure she knows she’s wanted. Fuck, she’s wanted so much I can hardly breathe when I look at her.

It isn’t until Daniel cracks the lid and pours the paint into a roller tray that I get a look at the color they picked out. “Blue? Don’t tell me you guys think I’m going to decorate her room in Bolts colors.”

Aiden laughs and picks up a paintbrush. “Nah, it’s 1989 themed. If we want Vivi to be a Taylor and Lake girl, we gotta start now.”

With a grunt, I pick up my own paintbrush. “1980-what?”

“Taylor’s 1989 album? Come on, man,” Aiden groans.

I look at Daniel and mouth, “What the fuck?”

With a paint roller in one hand, he shrugs. “My dad owns a record label. I’d be disowned if I didn’t know my music. And Taylor is one of Lake’s friends.”

“Taylor who?” I’m totally teasing them at this point.

Brooks snorts, rolling out a long strip of blue painters tape. “Don’t let Sara hear you ask that question.”

“Taylor Swift,” Aiden says, eyes wide like I’m the idiot here. “Come on, Heartbreak Prince.”

“Heartbreak who?”

I’m totally goading my brother. He’s been singing Taylor songs at practice every day this week. “Ms. Americana and the Heartbreak Prince” is his go-to when Vivi is around.

Obviously dedicated to helping me understand, he breaks into his rendition.

“Gav and Vivi, that’s his whole world,

Ms. Viviane Langfield, she’s the team’s little girl

The whole team will paint this room blue

Gav’s Vivi girl, we really love you.”

With his hands on his hips, Aiden stares me down. “Recognize it now?”

It takes a lot of effort, but I keep my expression blank and dip my brush into the paint. “No idea what you’re going on about, but fine, let’s paint.”

War nudges my arm. “You know all the lyrics, don’t you?”

“Who do you think got Lake Paige to play for the team on New Year’s Eve two years ago? And Taylor last year? Of course I know every word,” I mutter.

War throws his head back and laughs.

For two hours, Aiden sings one Taylor song after another. After each one, he looks at me, brows raised expectantly. “You really don’t know this one?”

Every time I play dumb and shake my head, he gets more exasperated.

By the time we’re done, I’ve learned that War is not only aggressive on the ice, but he can draw the shit out of birds. I was lost about the meaning of the birds until Aiden pulled up an image of the 1989 album cover—Taylor’s version, of course. War painted his birds in varying shades of purple and light pink, making the room look perfect for Vivi girl.

“Ready to hit the road again next week?” Hall asks as he leans against my counter, beer bottle in hand and clothes speckled blue.

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