Page 62 of Pucks and Likes

Coach loves me. Or tolerates me. Same thing, really.

As I make my way to my spot, the boys hug and slap hands with me, offering me their congratulations. I’m still on cloud nine from when we found out this morning. I feel kind of bad for not telling my mom yet, but I have faith she’ll know by Saturday. When she called to wish me luck tonight, it took everything in me not to scream it at her, but I really want her to meet Elliot first. I want her to fall in love with her as I have before I drop the bomb she’s pregnant with my baby. Mom’ll be shocked at first, but then she’ll be happy. My son will be her first grandson and fourth grandchild, but he’ll be her favorite. Like me.

What? I’m the baby. Of course I’m her favorite.

I reach for one of my sticks, and as I assumed after the game the other night, it needs new tape. I check my other two sticks and decide they should get new tape too, which is good since I need something to keep me busy so I don’t drive everyone crazy telling them about my son. People should watch out. I may become Alexander Hamilton and sing about my son for the next three minutes.

Or hour.

Now that I have the Hamilton soundtrack in my head, I head to the trainer’s room to grab the new box of tape Elliot dropped off the other day. After nodding to the attendant and refraining from telling her I’m having a son, I grab my tape and head to the hall to tape my stick while I continue to hum.

I’m about to start rapping like a Frenchman when I hear my name.

“Cruz.”

I look up from the piece of tape I’m about to cut to see that the person calling my name is none other than Dan Davenport.

Great.

Hesitantly, I give him a guarded grin, not as much on alert since I really don’t need to watch what I say. Not saying that I would with Elliot here, but I’m a bit more restrained.

Somewhat.

“Mr. Davenport,” I say slowly, my eyes on his as I tape my stick like a pro who doesn’t need to watch himself do it.

It’s all for show; I’ll have to retape this sucker later.

“Do you have a moment?”

I stop and use my teeth to rip the tape before leaning the stick on the wall and tucking the tape into my pocket. “Of course.”

I follow him into one of the side rooms that are usually used for promo storage, but it’s also a spot I’ve cornered Elliot for a taste of her to tide me over. The thought of all the naughty things we did in here almost has me forgetting that I’m in here with my son’s great-grandfather—my son will not call him Peepaw—and not the person of my endless desires.

I miss Elliot more than I did before I entered this room, as Dan shuts the door. He turns, his whole body giving away that he wants to be anywhere but here. His shoulders are back and taut, his breathing a bit labored, and I feel he wants to murder me. With his bare hands.

Bring it on, Peepaw.

Nothing is going to keep me from my woman or my son.

Not even death.

He takes a deep breath, and on the exhale, I hear a bit of a wheeze that I would suggest he get checked out if I weren’t so ready for a fight. “You’ve told people about the baby?”

“I told my teammates about my son, yes,” I correct, not looking away.

Something flashes in his eyes. Excitement? Longing? I don’t know, but his eyes brighten a bit. “A boy.” His words are a little breathy as he nods, looking away. I give him a moment before he asks, “Why haven’t you told everyone that Elliot is the mother?”

“Because Elliot hasn’t told anyone she’s pregnant yet, and that’s her truth to tell. I don’t want my actions messing with her career.”

He nods, his eyes scrutinizing me. As if I’m not good enough for Elliot. That’s not his place to decide. “Elliot is my favorite,” he says boldly. His voice is so full of emotion that I almost think he’s about to start crying. “I was able to meet her as a newborn since my daughter needed money and used Elliot to get it out of me. I’m sure Elliot has told you about her history and all that, but it’s in the past where it belongs.”

I don’t say a damn thing because I sure as hell don’t want him to stop talking. Even a bit of information about my love’s past is fodder I want to devour. Maybe it’ll help me better understand why she is so mean to herself and won’t allow herself to love me the way I know she does.

“The point is, I love Elliot more than I can even express. I wanted to protect her, but again, my daughter didn’t permit me to once she got what she wanted.” He takes another deep breath. “Elliot is a strong woman, brilliant and beautiful, and I wanted more for her than to get knocked up by a guy who’s on his way out. Once more, I’ll be losing her, and it’s eating me alive.”

His admission almost makes me feel bad for him. However, I can’t help but feel like he thinks I’m not good enough.

“But I trust you,” he says, surprising the fuck out of me. “You’re a hard worker, smart, and fiercely protective of her. So much so that you don’t think of yourself when it comes to her, and I want that for her. After everything she’s gone through, I want her to be safe and cared for.”

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