Page 17 of Tell Me Lies

“I don’t know,” he drawls. “The California sun over here makes my skin look pretty damn fresh. I’m going to age like a fine wine.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” I snort.

“Youwillsee. Anyway, I just wanted to check on you. Well, mostly just wanted to check that my girl was being taken care of. And that you hadn’t left her with some crazy nanny.”

“You know better, dipshit,” I mutter. “Maci is great. I’m really happy with how things are going so far.”

“Good, good.” I hear him shuffling around through the phone. “I gotta run. Later, big bro.”

“See ya, you little asswipe.”

Ending the call, I grin.

Family means everything to me, and I wish more than anything that Link, Tate, and Crew lived closer. Who knows? Maybe one day.

Looking back at the team, I set my phone down and head back to working out, wishing like hell it was time to go home so I could hang out with Amelia instead.

“Sorry I’m so late. I got hung up at the arena with Coach, talking about the season,” Logan whispers, bringing Amelia’s blanket higher under her chin. “I hate nights when I don’t get to say good night to her. Makes me feel like a shit dad.”

“The fact that you feel bad makes you a good dad,” I say, watching him brush her hair away from her face.

I don’t tell him that she cried for him before falling asleep in my arms tonight. I don’t want to make him feel worse, but it’s obvious she loves her father very much. And I can see why; he’s a wonderful dad.

She fought her nap earlier, and I had to read to her until she fell asleep. Then, tonight, she was fine until it was bedtime and he wasn’t home yet. She’s a daddy’s girl for sure. I know what that’s like because I always was too.

“Yeah, but I sometimes feel like hockey gets in the way of me being her dad. And I’m all she has in the parent department, so I just don’t want to fuck it up,” he whispers, still looking at her. “And when we go places, people flock to get my autograph. I appreciate it and all, but some days, I just want to be her dad. You know?”

“I get that.” I lean against the doorframe. “But you have to remember, this is all she’s ever known. Having a dad who is thousands of people’s hero. In the eyes of a three-year-old, that’s got to be pretty cool.”

He looks across the room at me. “That means a lot to me. Thanks.” Leaning down, he kisses her forehead before standing and walking toward me. “Want a beer or something?”

“I actually hate beer.” I cringe. “I’ll have a seltzer water though. I added some to the grocery order to have when I’m here.” I pause. “I hope that’s okay. I can pay you back since it’s your card on there.”

“Order anything you’d like, Boston,” his deep voice drawls slowly before he struts past me and into the hallway.

I follow behind him, and he waves toward the sectional, where Clyde is lying on his back with his tongue hanging out.

“Oh gosh. I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to keep him off of your furniture.” I rush toward him. “Clyde, get down!”

“Relax. He’s fine. Let the big man sleep.” A deep chuckle comes from Logan’s lips. “Sit. I’ll get you a drink. I’m sure my little tornado kept you going nonstop today.”

Leisurely, I move toward the sectional, ushering Clyde off quietly because I know Logan is too easygoing and will tell me to leave him be. But this furniture is nice, and my dog has crocodile toenails.

I take a seat on my favorite spot—the chaise lounge on the end. This is hands down the comfiest furniture I’ve ever sat on, and the past few days, I’ve discovered how much I love this spot in particular.

I watch him reach into the refrigerator and grab a can of my blueberry pomegranate Bubly and a beer for himself. As he struts toward me, the air feels different. It seems thicker. Maybe that’s because it’s just us. I don’t really know. But whatever it is, it’s making it harder for me to breathe.

He reaches down, passing me the can before sitting down.

“Thanks,” I utter, cracking it open and taking a small sip.

Clearing my throat, I pull in a breath, pushing myself to ask what I’ve wanted to all day. Something that is big for me becauseever since the accident, I have barely driven outside of Maine. The few times I have were to go back to Boston for the holidays. And even then, it was a huge deal.

“So … you can totally tell me no, and I’ll completely understand. But I was wondering, would you be open to me taking Amelia to Santa’s Village in New Hampshire?” I chew my lip nervously because this is a big ask. I know Logan doesn’t like missing stuff when it comes to his daughter. I also can’t believe I want to do this, considering it’s quite a long drive. “It’s about two and a half hours away, so it would be a day trip, and I promise I’d have her back at a reasonable time.”

That catches his attention. “Santa’s Village?” He frowns. “What is that?”

Leaning forward, I set my drink on the coffee table. “It’s a small amusement park. My parents used to take me and my sister there when we were kids. I just love the White Mountains area.”

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