Page 66 of Power Forward

I scoff. “Ryan Wilde, you’re telling me you want to be a professional hockey player, but you can’t run up a small flight of stairs to get a puck? What’s your dad gonna say when he comes home to the Lake Michigan wind blowing a mess in the family room ’cause you broke a window?” I raise a questioning brow.

Isabela giggles from where she’s sitting in the corner of the couch, iPad and elephant in hand.

Ryan rolls his eyes and sighs again defeatedly.

“Okay,” he drawls. “I’ll go get them.”

I take the hockey stick from him, and he runs upstairs. Turning to Isabela, I sit on the edge of the couch. She’s warmed up to me a lot, but sometimes she still gets overly shy, so I always let her do things on her terms.

“What do you wanna have for dinner? Your daddy says you like mac and cheese.”

Her eyes light up, and she nods.

“Okay, we can do mac and cheese, and then maybe we can have ice cream cookie sandwiches after.”

“Yay!” she cheers.

Ryan comes back downstairs with a bucket of foam pucks, and I show him a few different stick-handling techniques until it’s time to start dinner. They busy themselves by doing some coloring, and then I sit withthem in the living room while they eat and watchBluey.

“I’ll wash up, then I’ll make us some ice cream cookie sandwiches,” I say, taking their bowls into the kitchen.

I’m rinsing up the saucepan when the front door opens, and I make quick work of drying my hands. Jackson’s home a lot earlier than I was expecting.

“Hey!” I call out, but when I round the corner, I freeze.

Because it isn’t Jackson standing in the hallway.

“Mom!” Ryan jumps up from the couch and wraps his arms around Laura.

“Hello! Surprise!” She beams, catching Isabela when she throws herself at her mom’s legs.

She does a double take when she spots me, eyeing me curiously between greeting the kids and responding to their mile-a-minute questions. All I can do is stand there.

Well, this is awkward.

“Oh, hi. Christie mentioned you were with the kids. Where’s Jackson?” she asks, glancing around as if he’ll pop out from under the stairs.

“Uh, he’s doing a toy drive with the team. He should be back soon.”

This is the first time we’ve ever met, and I’m not sure whether she knows who I am. Judging by the friendly smile on her face, I’m guessing Jackson didn’t tell her about us.

“Oh, cool. Sorry, I’m being rude. Hi, I’m Laura,” she says when she untangles herself from the kids. She walks over to me with an extended hand. “I’m their mom.”

“Yeah, I know,” I reply dumbly and shake her hand. “I’m Hayden.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” She smiles.

Yeah, she has no idea who I am.

“I’m…” I motion to the kitchen over my shoulder. “I’m about to make ice cream cookie sandwiches for the kids. Would you like one?”

“Sure!”

“Why don’t you, uh, take a seat and spend some time with the kids? I’ll bring it out.”

She flashes me another dazzling smile and heads into the living room with the kids, who are talking her ear off.

Taking the ice cream from the freezer and cookies from the pantry, I scoop a serving of ice cream, placing it on one cookie before placing another on top, squeezing it gently so the ice cream spreads out in the middle, then place them in a bowl. My hands are trembling from the anxiety beginning to brew inside of me.

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