Page 5 of Tell Me Lies

I’m desperate enough that I’m close to calling one of my brothers and seeing if they can come to Maine for a week or two when Maddie leaves, just until I figure something out. There’s been plenty of interest in the job, but nobody has felt right. This is my baby girl. My only job that truly matters anymore is keeping her safe. So, I’m not going to just leave her with anyone. Fuck no.

I could ask my sister-in-law, Tate. I know she’d say yes. But, shit, she and my brother have a family of their own. Not to mention, they live on the other side of the damn country. It’d be a huge ask, but if it came down to it, I know she’d have my back.

I drag in a breath, heading back toward the ice to finish up practice.

“You good, Sterns?” Walker James calls, skating toward me.

He joined our team over three years ago now, and in a way, I think he was the missing piece. Ever since he came on as our center, we’ve been a well-oiled machine, all of us working together, much like a chessboard with all of its pieces.

“Yeah. Why?” I utter, slapping a puck toward the goal.

“Well, usually, I’m the grumpy-looking one while you’re fucking around, cracking jokes and being everyone’s favorite Shark. Today, you’re the grouch.” Suddenly, he grins. “Hey, maybe I’ll finally get to be America’s sweetheart.”

“Pfft, don’t get your hopes up. I’ll always be the favorite,” I toss back. “And I’m not grouchy,” I grumble. “Just … fucking stressed over finding someone to help with Amy. Y’all don’t get it. It’s fucking impossible to just choose a random stranger and be like,Yep, you’ll do. Now, please don’t kidnap her and also keep her safe while I frolic around the fucking country, playing hockey.”

“You’re not much of a frolicker, big guy,” he jokes before he tips his chin up. “I can’t imagine how hard that is, but you’ll figure it out. When does Maddie leave?”

“Three days,” I mumble. I hit another puck toward the goal and watch it fly into the net.

“Shit,” he says under his breath, and I can tell he’s deep in thought. “Hey, Poppy has this friend. She’s super nice. Writes books or something. Or she used to write books, not so much anymore. But she’s a very well-known author, so you know she’s smart. Anyway, Poppy’s been saying something about how she hasn’t been able to write anything for a while and that she’s worried about her career. What if she could do it?”

“What kind of books?” I frown. “Does she write that dirty shit that pops up when I’m scrolling TikTok sometimes?” I grimace. “If so, I don’t know about that.”

“Christ, Sterns. You do realize that (a), your daughter was made from a one-night stand, and (b), before you were Daddy Sterns, you were rather slutty, my friend.” He gives me a critical look. “So, do not stand here and try to act all holier than thou to me. She’s a good person. Just consider it, would you?”

I search his face for anything to tell me he’s hiding something about this chick, but I see nothing. “I don’t know.” I pause, standing up straighter. “I mean, how well do you really know this girl? What if she’s not as nice as y’all think she is?”

“First off, have you met my wife?” He grins, his face doing that goofy shit it does whenever he talks about the womanhe’s married to. “Poppy is suspicious of everyone and doesn’t let anyone close to her until she’s pretty much conducted a background check. Her friend’s a good girl. I know it.”

I don’t answer right away, so he continues, “Let me just have Poppy check with her to see if it’s something she’d even be interested in. Maybe she doesn’t even like kids. But it’s worth a try, right? An option at the very least.”

“Everyone likes Amelia,” I utter. “She’s the bomb.” I sigh, putting my stick over my shoulders and stretching my arms. “What’s her name? This super-nice, currently unemployed, ex-writer chick.”

“Maci,” he says. “Maci McKenzie.”

I glance at Coach, who looks down at the iPad in his hands. I’ve been with the guy for five years; I don’t want to let him down now. Especially not after he hooked Amelia and me up with his niece when we needed her most.

“Fine,” I say, less than enthused. “Let me know what she says. If she’s interested, bring her by tonight so that Maddie and I can interview her.”

“You got it.” He holds his fist out and bumps it to mine before skating away.

On one hand, I don’t know this girl, and that makes me uncomfortable. On the other, Poppy and Walker do. And both of them were raised by wolves, making them incredibly wary of people. So, I do trust their judgment here.

Besides, there was a time when I didn’t know Maddie. And I had to trust her, and it ended up being the best decision for Amelia and me. Maybe this Maci chick will be the same thing.

“Gee, you don’t have much faith in my writing career, huh?” I say, my tone snarky.

“It is not that!” Poppy quickly shakes her head before grabbing one of my Reese’s pumpkins and unwrapping it. “But you said yourself the other day that writing has become nearly impossible and that you were considering a change of scenery.” She takes a bite of the pumpkin and closes her eyes. “Why do these and the tree-shaped Reese’s taste better than the regular ones? It makes no sense. Also, Halloween is nearly two months away. Why are these out already?”

She looks at Clyde, who has drool running out of his large, saggy jowls. “I love you, buddy, but you’re gross.”

“First off, in my mind, it’s already spooky season. There is no wrong time for Halloween candy, decorations … anything. Also, that’s the third one you’ve eaten since you’ve been here. I’m going to start charging you,” I tease her. “And they taste better because the chocolate is, like … softer. And creamier.” I hastily shake my head. “Stop trying to distract me from the real reason you are here! You basically signed me up to nanny your friend’s kid. Who even is the friend?”

“I didn’t sign you up; my big-hearted husband did,” she says, defending herself. “And it’s Logan Sterns’s daughter.” She sees my eyes widen and swiftly stuffs the remainder of the candy bar in her mouth, chews, and swallows it. “Don’t freak out that he’s wildly famous. Trust me, he does not act like it. Ninety percent of the time, he’s a giant goofball.”

“I don’t give a shit about him! I care that everyone would freak out wherever we went because it’s his kid!” I huff out. “How old are they? He? She?”

“She’s three. Her name is Amelia, but he calls her Amy. She’s named after her grandmother, who died of cancer years before she was born.” She gives me absolute puppy-dog eyes. “He’s a single dad. The girl who’s been caring for Amy since she was born is moving, and he could really use someone to look after her.”

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