Page 6 of Rookie Move

Rylie:On my way.

She smiled down at her phone. Every day with her dad was easier than the last, and she was grateful they’d had the time to reconnect. He was letting her live in his guesthouse for free. He’d even given her carte blanche in decorating it.

She fully admitted to enjoying being spoiled by him, but that wasn’t going to stop her from doing her best to make her own way in life—eventually. She would’ve been an idiot to turn down his offer to stay here. She knew part of it was guilt for not pushing her mother more, and it’d taken a while, but she’d forgiven him for that.

All that mattered now was moving forward.

She changed into her comfy yoga pants and a tunic and headed across the backyard to her father’s patio doors.

“Perfect timing,” he said, giving her a smile she doubted many of his hockey players ever saw. “Grab a beer and tell me about your first day.”

“How’d training camp go?” she asked at the same time.

“The guys look solid. No one slacked over the summer. We’ll be able to shape a good team from what we have. Now. Your turn,” he said before taking a bite of his enchilada.

“I think we’re getting a dog. I mean, I hope so,” she said as she filled her plate with Mexican rice and chicken enchiladas.

“We’re getting a dog? We have plenty of space for a dog, but who’s going to take care of it? I’m on the road a lot and you’re starting a new job.”

“No. I suggested it for the team. A bunch of teams have them. They get socialized with the players and then trained as service dogs.”

“That’s a great idea, honey, but if you want to get a pet, we can probably do that. Did you have one growing up?” he asked, and she heard the catch in his voice.

It sucked that they’d missed so much of each other’s lives. Another strike for her mother—the woman who’d left her another message today that Rylie had ignored.

Yes, it was childish, but she wasn’t in the mood for another guilt trip. They’d intensified when Rylie had finally told her mother that she was moving in with her father after graduation, that she wouldn’t stay with her in North Carolina. Her mother assumed that Rylie would just “get over” her lies, but as time had passed and Rylie hadn’t just moved on, she’d seen a side of her mother that she’d rarely seen as a child. A selfish and mean mother who verbally lashed out when she didn’t get her way.

One day she would find a way to handle her mother, but for now, she was enjoying her space.

“Nope. No pets. Mom always said we didn’t have time for them. I’m not ready for a pet here.”

“Well, let me know if you change your mind. I like the idea of getting a service dog. I’ll talk to Charles, the team owner, tomorrow.”

She laughed. “No, Dad. Brenda is going to do that. I know you want to help me, but I can’t have you convincing management to take all of my suggestions.”

“They need to know about your good ideas,” he said.

She placed her hand on top of his. “Thanks, Dad, but I’ve got this.”

“Fine,” he said, almost pouting, and she smiled.

“You’ve helped me so much already. Now, how about we dig in? I’m starving.”

He flipped her hand around in his and squeezed.

“You hungry?” Finnasked, sitting down next to Desmond in the locker room.

They’d finished their first week of training camp and Desmond was a combination of fired up and exhausted. He felt ready for the season, but also ready to crash on the oversized couch in his new condo.

“Nessie, you coming out with us?” Baz, the resident clown, said.

The man hadn’t changed one bit over the years since they’d played together on the same team. Desmond thought the guy would have matured with age, but frankly, it was doubtful at this point.

“Very few people call me Nessie,” Desmond muttered. Baz had given him the nickname years ago and Desmond was grateful it hadn’t stuck with his other teams. He was proud of his Scottish heritage, but the nickname annoyed him.

“You’re Scottish and your last name sounds likeloch, I’m not going to call you Lachy. Besides, who wouldn’t want to be named after a great mythical beast?”

“Nessie could be real,” Desmond fired back, his grin wide. Desmond was born in Scotland, but his family had moved to Canada when he was a kid so his father could coach a junior hockey team. Desmond tried to get back to Scotland at least every summer to see his grandparents, and his accent was always a touch thicker after he returned.

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