Page 122 of Hockey Wife

“Dad, Dylan doesn’t need to hear this.”

Marcus held up a hand, cutting his daughter off. Dick move, man. “Like all teens, she started to act out. And Georgia’s teen years seem to have lasted longer than most.”

A quick look at Mrs. G tagged her in. “That’s why we think Dani’s charity would be the perfect thing for you to fill your time. Your husband”—at that, Mama Goodwin’s expression took on the strain of incredulity—“is a busy man with his sports. Dylan, tell her she can’t be sitting around at home.”

Anger flared, but instead of showing it, he reached for the comfort of Georgia’s hand. “As far as I’m concerned, my wife can do whatever the hell she wants.”

Penny winced. “Is that typical of the other wives of your teammates? Doing whatever they want?”

“There’s no standard template for how a hockey wife or husband has to behave or fill their time. Some of them have jobs, own businesses, stay home with children. Some of them like learning to cook or the rules of hockey. There’s space for all kinds of journeys here.”

Georgia squeezed his hand, and he risked a glance at her. She was smiling at him, her eyes shiny enough to make his heart contract.

“Darling, aren’t you lucky to have such support?” Penny managed to make “support” sound like a four-letter word.

“Absolutely blessed,” Georgia murmured, like she meant it.

Which was good because he would have her back through hellfire if she needed him.

Mrs. G wasn’t finished. “And with all that support, you’d still have time for Dani. You wouldn’t have to do any of the operational work, just liaise with the appointed head on the optics. Tell her, Marcus.”

“If she doesn’t want to do it, we can’t force her.” Marcus patted his wife’s arm and sent her a quelling look. Clearly, Georgia’s intransigence was a much-discussed topic. Why wouldn’t she tell them about her plans? Her dreams?

He caught her gaze. Tell them, Peaches.

She looked away, and the moment passed.

“Now, Dylan, we’d love to hear more about you,” Penny said. “When did you start playing ice hockey?”

38

Banks was broody as they headed down the elevator to the parking garage. He still held her hand, but there was a tension there since they’d left her parents’ penthouse.

“You okay?”

“Nope.”

She swallowed hard. Banks never admitted when he was unhappy. Or happy, for that matter.

“I’m sorry about how nosy they were. All those questions about your salary.”

“That’s not it.” He turned to her, his usually golden-brown eyes as dark as night.

“Is it because they blabbed to the Chicago Tattler about our marriage? I didn’t mean to tell them. I thought they already knew and it just came out?—”

“Don’t care about that. What I do care about is how they treat you. How critical they are of your choices.”

“Oh, they don’t mean anything by it.”

He snorted. “They have more than one daughter.”

Her chest tightened. So he’d noticed. Georgia had never questioned how her parents’ homes were shrines to Dani. Dwelling on it would manifest as resentment, and if she started resenting her parents, then the next step was resenting Dani. She refused to go down that road.

“They miss her. We all do.”

“And you’re still here. Full of life and with a heart so big it can barely be contained. Why won’t you tell them about what you want to do with the charity?”

They reached the parking level and the elevator doors opened.

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