Page 3 of Power Play

And the worst part is, he was fucking right and the smug look he gave me earlier told me he knew it.

The university daycare program is easily the best facility around. By a fucking landslide. Who would have thought that the hardest part about moving to New York City wouldn’t be driving, finding a job, or even finding a place to live? No, the hardest part has been being a single dad and refusing to give my little girl anything but the best.

A couple of the daycares that didn’t work out felt the need to tell me that I was overbearing and needed to stop trying to control every aspect of my daughter’s life. They believed that if their program worked for all the other kids, why shouldn’t it be fine for Rory.

But that’s not the point. I want to be involved in her life, even when I’m at work. I want to make sure she’s getting everything she needs. Why is it unacceptable that I want updates throughout the day, maybe even a picture or two to let me know how she is? It’s not like I’m asking for a daycare camera that I can watch her with... although I don’t hate that idea.

It also shouldn’t be that fucking difficult to follow a simple menu, which I would provide. I just don’t want her eating a bunch of shit. She doesn’t need a lot of sugar, plus Rory and I always cook together, so she’s not really used to eating takeout or junk food. Well, unless my sister, Stella, is around.

It’s simple, yet everyone acts like I’m high maintenance for it. It’s fucking annoying.

Why am I being judged because I want the best for my little girl?

In the end, it didn’t even matter, though, because none of those facilities would have worked with the hours that I need. Being a college hockey coach makes my hours go all over the place. Sometimes we have late practice, and our games are almost always in the evening, so I needed to find a place willing to accommodate that.

The university daycare had no issues with the hours or any of the other things I asked of them. Apparently, one of their daycare teachers has been looking for the opportunity to do dance classes in the evenings, and Bernard helped push to make it work for our schedule.

It’s like déjà vu. I’ll be coaching at the same university I went to almost fifteen years ago, and Rory will be joining me.

It couldn’t have worked out better, and I was even happier with the choice after I toured the facility and met the teacher, Claire. Claire is young—probably nineteen or twenty—but she’s sweet and has a personality that I think Rory will love once they get her to open up a bit.

My daughter is a tough nut to crack, taking after me in that aspect. She always seems to have these walls in place, especially around adults. Plus, she has a lot of big feelings for being only four years old, especially as she gets older and sees other kids with their moms and dads. She’s starting to notice that she doesn’t have a mom and has had a difficult time understanding why. Even if her mom was only in her life for three days, it’s like she’s aware something’s missing.

When Miranda brought her to me and told me she was mine, it took me a while to come to terms with the fact that I had a daughter, yet as soon as I did, I started making choices to ensure she had a good life. At that time, I was struggling and spiraling out of control after my hockey career ended. But Rory saved me. She’s the only reason I’ve come as far as I have, with the help of my mom, of course.

My mom knew what I was going through and knew I wasn’t making good choices, so she came over with my father to help.

Miranda waited just long enough for them to get to my apartment, but after that, she was gone.

My parents though? They moved me into their place for a couple of weeks, making sure I was in a better place while also helping with Rory however they could. My dad used that time to help me detox and figure out what the fuck to do, while my mom helped me figure out my new role as a dad.

Now, with all of that behind us, we’re moving cross country back to New York for a job I almost didn’t take.

I’ve played hockey since I was five, going on to play in the NHL with the Cyclones until I retired after my injury. I ended up moving down to Austin to do some trial rehab for my knee, which seemed promising for a while, but it wasn’t enough to keep me from having to hang up my skates permanently.

But now I’m back in the hockey world, and it’s surreal as fuck.

Walking into the main office, I head past the secretary in search of Bernard, the Athletic Director, who used to be my old college coach. It helps that I’ve known him for years, as his son Trevor and I played together since we were five. Even after my injury and my move to Austin, Bernard and Trevor never wavered and were there for me every step of the way.

Walking up to his office, I’m just about to knock when the door swings open and Bernard is standing there with his usual happy smile covering his face.

I’m not sure what Mrs. Adams puts in their food, but him and Trevor are always so fucking cheerful.

“Mr. Lockwood,” Bernard says, stepping back to let me into his office, the smile never falling from his face. “It took you long enough to get back here. We’re happy to have you, son.”

Almost outside of my control, my face turns up into a smile. It’s hard not to smile at this man, who is equal parts both infuriating and fucking incredible at his job. He has a knack for treating everyone like they’re important but also like they are family. He’s all about tough love and congratulating you on a job well done, but in the same breath would threaten to whoop our ass if we made dumb decisions, on or off the ice. If he had still been my coach when I got injured, I don’t think my life would have turned out the way it did, and I sure as hell wouldn’t have pitied myself for as long.

But, I wouldn’t trade that time for anything because it brought me Rory and that little girl saved me from myself.

“It’s good to be home,” I tell him honestly. “We both know it wouldn’t have happened if it hadn’t been for your offer. Well, that and your goddamn stubbornness.”

Bernard just smirks, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “You can’t expect an old dog like me to learn new tricks. Stubbornness is in my bones.”

That I know. You truly can’t teach an old dog new tricks.

Shaking my head, I laugh.

“Well, I had hoped that by now that Mary had whipped you into shape, but I see that was just wishful thinking.”

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