Page 12 of Ice, Love, & Other Penalties

He arches an eyebrow, his piercing blue eyes glinting with amusement. “Right, Indigo Walker. I hope you’re happy with this temporary arrangement. You couldn’t ask for better. Myra is in very capable hands.”

I nod. “Though I do trust you, I’m wondering if you had run a background check or . . .” I shrug, my shoulders tense. “No offense, I’m sure your employees are trustworthy, but as a single dad I can’t take any chances.”

“I trust Indie completely,” he assures me, a grin playing on his lips.

“How well do you know her?

He rolls his eyes, “For years. You shouldn’t worry about Myra.”

“She’s been working for you for years? I mean, she’s what, like twenty-one?” I ask and regret the question right away. Who the fuck cares about her age?

You, asshole. You do because that little thing isn’t just pretty, she’s . . . keep those thoughts buried. You’re a single dad who can’t afford fucking things with the only person who can care for your child.

“Twenty-six,” he corrects and laughs. “You should mention to her that she looks like she’s barely eighteen. She hates it.” The wicked grin of satisfaction reminds me of his earlier comment. How he’s enjoying making this woman the nanny.

I frown. “I take it you two know each other well.”

“Really well. She’s also my confidante. Which is why I know your daughter is in good hands,” he assures me. “Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s just . . . I like to have everything under control,” I admit, watching a rookie execute a drill with more enthusiasm than accuracy. “Not knowing her exact qualifications or if she’ll be able to find someone full time is somehow unnerving.”

Jude chuckles. “Ty, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that control is just an illusion, especially when it comes to family. And hockey,” he adds with a wink. “But it’s how we adapt that counts. Indigo adapting to nanny duty. You adapting to changes off the ice. It’s all part of the game.”

His words strike a chord and maybe he’s right. I have to learn to adapt.

I’ve been told that my biggest flaw is trying to control everything. But what’s the alternative? I want my child to grow up in an organized household where she has a schedule and there are no surprises. Yet, there’s always something going on, like a mother who didn’t want her daughter or a grandmother who can only help me when it’s convenient, or . . . There’s always something disrupting our lives.

Glancing at Jude, I know this is way above his pay grade. He hired me to play hockey and lead the team to win games. Not to deal with my personal life. So, I say, “Well, I know I already said it, but thank you so much for helping me.”

“Anytime,” Jude says, clapping me on the shoulder. “Now, let’s get to it. We’ve got a game to prepare for, and I need my captain’s head in the game.”

I nod and as I’m about to walk onto the ice he says, “Ty, when Indie appeared into our lives, she brightened everything. Trust that she’ll find the puzzles to make your life just perfect. She always does.”

I narrow my gaze. Are they in a relationship? Well, knowing she’s off-limits takes the tension between us away and I can focus more on what matters.

As I fall into the rhythm of practice, the sound of pucks against the boards, the shout of coaches, and the drills, the weight of the morning’s worries dissipate. When it comes to the ice, it’s easy to adapt. It’s when I’m outside that’s when I have trouble adjusting to . . . Well, almost everything.

Chapter Eight

Indigo

After dropping Myra off, I make my way out of the bustling school. I should really head to the office and start searching for a nanny to take over my duties ASAP. I haven’t even checked the team’s upcoming schedule yet, but I know they’ll be traveling soon.

The thought of staying at Tyberius’s house sends my mind wandering in dangerous directions again. Probably best if I call Lyric and convince her to help care for Myra until I can find a permanent replacement.

As I step out of the school, I look across the street at the unassuming building that houses Decker Records—the recording studio where my father spends most of his days.

The structure, with its brick façade and large, tinted windows, always seemed like a fortress of sorts, a separate realm where the ordinary meets the extraordinary. Some of my favorite childhood memories were made within those walls, trailing behind my mom as she brought us kids to visit our dad. Instead of just being in Dad’s office, they’d let us be in one of his studios where all the musical instruments are.

Dad, Grandpa Chris, and all the adults in my family always encouraged us to play with the instruments they owned. Learn to love them, and create something different. No limitations. Music may not course through my veins like it does for most Deckers, but I want to think that it’s part of my soul.

I loved tinkering with different instruments, though never quite reaching the prodigy levels of my talented cousins. But those days, making joyful noises in the studios my grandfather built, will always be in my heart.

As I push open the heavy front door, that familiar comforting scent greets me—a mix of polished wood and lemon-scented cleaners. This is almost exactly like it was back when I was a little child. No matter how much time passes, some things remain constant in this place.

I smile to myself, remembering the countless hours I’ve spent here over the years. The lobby sits quietly, the only sound a soft guitar melody floating from the speakers. Dad likes to have some ambient music around. It’s just another ordinary morning in this extraordinary place.

“Good morning, Indie,” chirps Eloise from behind the front desk.

---