Page 19 of Mr. Broody

A car door shuts behind me, and I glance over my shoulder to see Conor striding up after us. What is he doing?

“Henry, the team looked good last night,” a dad whose name I can’t remember says.

“We’re doing all right,” I say, my hand on Bodhi’s back to keep him moving. “Thanks for the support.”

“Good? We looked fantastic,” Conor says and steps over to the guy. “Hey, Conor Nilson, this guy’s pseudo uncle.”

“I love your goalie warm-ups,” one of the moms says.

Conor leans in until she lifts her coffee mug, and her wedding ring sparkles in the sun. He mumbles a thanks and comes back over to us.

I chuckle. “Have a great day, bud. Mack will pick you up, and we’ll do something fun tonight. Pick a place to eat.”

His teacher, Mrs. McConnell, stands in the doorway, her swollen belly barely contained by her light sweater. “Mr. Hensley, I just wanted to remind you about the concert on Friday night.”

“All in the calendar, and thank you for planning it when I don’t have a game.”

Teachers like her, who will work with me a little on my schedule, is why I changed schools this year. Yeah, I’m pulling favors by offering her husband my family tickets for two games this year, and I get that other parents don’t have the same luxury, but I’m taking what I can to be there for my son.

“Happy to help. Once this little one comes out, my husband will probably be begging to go to a game.” She smiles and rubs her stomach.

Bodhi hugs me goodbye and high-fives Conor before his hand slides into hers. “Can I touch your belly?”

“Bodhi,” I say.

“It’s okay. If it’s okay with your dad.”

I nod, and she lifts their joined hands and places his hand to her stomach.

His eyes widen, and his mouth opens. “I want a baby brother.”

My stomach sinks, and Conor blows out a breath next to me. I barely have time for him, let alone another kid.

“Let’s get to class. Everyone is already waiting for us,” Mrs. McConnell says.

I mouth sorry, and she waves me off, taking Bodhi by the hand again and walking into the building. Conor and I walk down the sidewalk to Mack’s car.

“That kid is dying for a mom,” Conor says.

He’s not lying. A few months ago, Bodhi asked Rowan to share Kyleigh with me. But there’s no one in my life, and I can’t even imagine bringing in someone who would understand my schedule and fit into our life.

“Shit, man, the moms around here don’t look like the moms when I was younger,” Conor whispers. Well, kind of whispers. “They’re all married?”

“Most are.”

“There has to be one for you, or are you holding out for the hot brunette from Saturday night?”

I stop and stare at him for a moment. The thing about Conor is that he isn’t very good at keeping secrets. He actually kind of sucks at it.

“Why are you here again?” My gut says Conor came with us today for something more than a ride to the rink for a workout.

“Coffee?”

I shake my head.

“I wanted to see Mack?”

“I don’t think so.” I place my hand on the car door handle.

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