Page 12 of Tell Me Lies

“Sterns, pick up the fucking pace!” Coach roars. “You look like my ninety-year-old aunt Florence out there. Hell, I think even she moves faster than you do! And she’s been bedridden in a nursing home for years!”

“Sorry, Coach,” I mutter before I groan at myself.

I know I’m not playing like my usual self today, but, Jesus Christ, I wish he’d cut me some slack. Unlike my teammates’children, Amelia doesn’t have the luxury of having her mother at home with her. I’m doing the best I can, and I know it’ll get easier. But right now, I’m stressed to the limit. So much so that my head aches and my jaw hurts from clenching it.

“Run it again,” Coach Jacobs says coolly.

The thing with Coach is, he doesn’t need to yell to instill fear in all of us. He just demands respect by being him.

“Get your finger out of your ass so we can do this and go home,” Walker says, his mouthguard hanging from his teeth. “Poppy wants Chineseandpizza. Which means two stops for me.”

“The baby hungry?” I grin, keeping my voice quiet enough for the others not to hear.

He gives me a look that says,Shut the fuck up, asshole, before I make you look worse in front of Coach.

And if anyone could do it, it’s Walker James. Who is an absolute beast on the ice.

But instead, he slaps his stick to mine. “Like I said, let’s do this so I can get out of here.”

He skates off, and I head to where I need to be, telling myself over and over not to fuck this up. I don’t want to be the reason why we can’t leave on time just because my ass can’t focus enough to do my job.

It’s been less than a week since Poppy accidentally let the cat out of the bag that she’s got a bun in the oven, and just to prove a point that I can keep a secret, I’ve refrained from decorating Walker’s locker with baby stuff. But I mostly haven’t because I know they’ve been pregnant before and lost the baby. I can’t imagine how that feels, but I hope with everything I am that they get this chance to be parents because they’d both be great at it. Fuck, if I can do it, I guess anyone really could.

That’s not true. There’s a shit ton of babies who have the worst parents. And since Walker grew up in a household wherehis parents were drug addicts who cared more about getting high than feeding and caring for their kids, last year, Walker and I decided to start a charity to help feed hungry kids in the New England area. We started small, but we hope to reach the entire country one day—hell, maybe even the entire world.

Walker takes off down the ice, cutting across the arena effortlessly. Kolt Kolburne—our right winger—heads toward him, and Ryder moves across from me. I put everything out of my head as I move toward Tripp Talmage, who’s protecting the goal, his huge body stretching across the damn thing like he’s a monster. The puck goes to Ryder, who takes it right to the goal before he sends it to me. And before I can even think about fucking it up, I slap it in, getting it past one of the nation’s best goalies as he falls to his knees.

Thank fuck.

Now, we can go home.

The scent of cookies hits my nose when I push open the front door. I set my stuff down and take off my sneakers, and before I can even make it to the kitchen, Amelia’s feet pad across the floor as she barrels toward me with her tiny baking apron on.

“Daddy!” she squeals, a grin spreading from ear to ear as she leaps into my arms when I lean down.

Picking her up, I lift her high above my head so that her feet are dangling. “What’s my favorite monkey doing?”

“Dad, it’s just me!” she huffs out, annoyed. “I’m not a monkey. I’m Amelia.”

Bringing her down, I narrow my eyes. “Are you sure? Let me smell you. You know, just to see if you smell like a monkey.” Igive her a sniff. “Yep. You sure stink like a monkey.” I look at her again. “Hmm … monkeys are ticklish under their armpits. Let me check that out.”

As I start tickling her, she flails around, giggling uncontrollably. And to be honest, the sound is the sweetest music to my ears. Because after I worried about her all morning, it’s more than obvious she’s doing just fine.

“What smells so good anyway?” I hold her against me, looping my arms around her legs as her hands rest on my shoulders, and I walk deep into the house, following the smell. “Did you make me cookies?”

She brings her lips closer to my ear, dropping her voice real low. “We burned-ed the first cookies, so we made new ones.” The way she saysburned, with an extra syllable at the end of it, cracks me up.

Just as I walk into the kitchen, Maci is transferring the cookies from the baking sheet to the rack. She’s wearing an apron that matches Amelia’s, tied around her waist, and when she hears us, she turns around.

There’s no question the woman is stunning. She’s not like the women at the VIP events I have to attend, with their faces painted on and their skintight dresses. Or even like the models in makeup commercials. She’s just … naturally beautiful.

She smiles at both of us, but her cheeks have a hint of red in them. “You didn’t tell your daddy that we ruined the first batch, did you?” When Amelia nods her head, Maci puts her hand on her hip playfully. “So much for that being our secret!”

She glances at me, and I can tell right away that she’s more comfortable when I’m not here. Since she’s only been with Amelia for a few days, we haven’t gotten the chance to really get to know each other. Not like we need to, I suppose, but when it comes time for us to travel, she’ll need to come too. It’ll make it easier if we’re not total strangers.

I take a few strides until I’m next to her, and she freezes up, looking like a deer in headlights. Reaching behind her, I grab a cookie from the cooling rack and take a big bite. It’s still warm and soft, and the chips have melted.

“Damn good,” I coo, taking another bite before finishing the whole thing off. “I need about two more and a glass of milk.”

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