Page 38 of Power Forward

“You make it sound like we’re ancient when you say it like that,” Hayden laughs.

“Well, we kinda are in hockey years.”

Hayden’s eyes glisten with the words he can’t say.Fuck off, I’m not that old.

“Okay.” Ryan’s eyes flick back to Hayden. “You played hockey?”

“Yeah, I did. I played in the pros for twelve years.”

Ryan nods approvingly. “What position?”

“Forward. Center.”

“Me too. Well, I’m right wing, like my dad.” Ryan points to me, and the pride that blooms in my chest threatens to crack my ribs when he says, “I wanna be just like my dad when I grow up.”

I ruffle his hair. “You will be better than me, bud. I promise you that.”

“I always wanted to be like your dad too,” Hayden admits.

My head snaps to him. “You did?”

“Yeah, you were, and still are, magical out there. How many times have you won fastest skater at the All Stars? Pretty sure you’d still leave ’em for smoke if you did it now.”

I dip my head, feeling my cheeks flame under his unexpected praise.

“What time have you gotta go?” Ryan asks.

“In about twenty minutes.”

His assessing eyes take in my ratty old T-shirt and sweatpants, and then he raises an eyebrow. “You’re going like that?”

Hayden laughs. “I knew it. Your kid is awesome.”

Ryan’s grin is sleepy.

“Obviously, I’m not going like this.” I roll my eyes. “I was checking on you and your sister before I get ready.”

“We’ll be okay, Dad. I’ll look after Iz.”

“Hayden’s gonna look after you both.”

His gaze goes to Hayden. “Can we watch the game later?”

Hayden looks at me with questioning eyes. I give a small nod.

“Yeah, of course we can. Your dad better bring home the W for us, right?”

Ryan nods and looks back at me. “Yeah, you better win, Dad.”

“Yeah, I will,” I say, and I have to bite back my smile from taking over my face.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m dressed in my game-day attire and running down the stairs with my shoes in hand. I slip them on when I reach the bottom, then grab my car keys from the entryway table.

“Jax, wait.”

I stop in the middle of the hallway, coat halfway on, and turn around to face Hayden. He stands there holding out a plate. I take it from him, and a choked laugh escapes me when I see he’s made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with the crusts cut off.

My heart soars at the significance of a damn sandwich.

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