Page 110 of Dancing in the Rain

She’d missed him while she’d been gone, especially at night in her empty, lonely apartment, and her empty, lonely bed. She couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d touched her, tasted her, turned her on until she was shivering and aching. All the orgasms he’d so generously given her and how much she’d loved making him feel good, too.

She’d also been thinking about his confession that he was seeking some help to figure things out. That was so good. She wanted so much for him to be happy and successful.

But…why?

Obviously she cared about him. But she couldn’tcareabout him…not likethat. It should feel awkward between them, with what had happened between him and Sara—her sister—and their resulting child. And at first she’d resisted the attraction to him because of Sara. But again, this wasn’t sleeping with her sister’s boyfriend. They were adults, different people, and the truth was…being with Drew felt right.

But she was going back to New York, taking Chloe with her. She had a career that meant everything to her. Well, almost everything, now she had Chloe. She also now had a commitment to return to New York at the beginning of December. So whatever it was that felt “right” was coming to an end. And maybe Drew was thinking along those lines, too, recognizing that their time was limited and it was probably better not to get into things too deeply.

Very wise. Yes.

She needed to focus on Chloe and being there for her. The poor sweetheart had gotten her very first period and had felt alone and embarrassed at having to tell Drew. Sure, he was her father, but they still didn’t know each other that well, and…well, it was the kind of thing a girl needed her mother for.

Peyton’s throat clogged up thinking about that.

She needed to focus. There was much to do…sorting out a school for Chloe in New York, packing, getting rid of things they didn’t need, figuring out what to do about the house. Selling it didn’t feel right…maybe she could rent it to someone?

She opened up her spreadsheet with a sigh.

—

Drew was on the ice Monday with a group of teenage boys at Paterson House. They were having a scrimmage, and his eyes kept going to one of the bigger boys, a kid who was pretty good. He had a way of finding the puck and he was a great skater, taking it to the net…yet his shots hardly ever went in. And it wasn’t that the young goalie was that stellar.

Drew sensed the kid’s frustration. To him it was crystal clear what was going on.

“Hey, Bryson,” he called to the kid. “You want to stay after and work on a few things?”

Bryson glided toward him on his skates. “Like what?”

“Like scoring goals.”

Bryson frowned. “I was trying.”

“I know you were. You were trying hard. I might be able to help you with that.”

Bryson lifted a shoulder. “Okay.”

“Roofing the puck worked back when you were, like, ten, and the goalies were smaller,” Drew told him. “Now you have to get out of that habit. But the first thing you have to learn is to hang on to the puck longer.”

“Huh?”

“I was watching you. I know it’s instinct to get rid of it as fast as you can, shoot it as fast as you can.”

“The goalie will be watching me. He’ll know where I’m going to shoot if I take too long.”

Drew grinned. “That is probably true. But if you have a great shot, and you shoot at the right place, he still won’t be able to stop it.”

They worked on it for a while and he could tell that Bryson was excited about what he showed him. And Drew himself left the hockey arena feeling pretty damn good. A sense of accomplishment filled him and damn, that was sweet.

He wished he could have videotaped Bryson and then played it back to show him exactly what he was talking about. Maybe he’d try that. Next time he’d bring his iPad.

He’d been thinking about some of the things he’d talked to Jack Shipton about. They’d met a few times since their first lunch that day. He was supposed to think about things he was good at, and things he enjoyed. Well, he could add this to the list…helping kids. Teaching.

Coaching was something he’d considered as a possible career goal. He’d talked to Jack and Melody, the counselor, about it. He knew he couldn’t step into a role as a head coach of an NHL team, and honestly, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to coach a team at any level.

He thought about watching the practice that day, when Acker had been shooting pucks at the net and missing or hitting the goalie straight on. He thought about how he’d itched to get down there and give the guy some tips. Acker had a coach—several coaches, in fact—and yet it seemed so obvious to Drew what he needed, he couldn’t believe that the coaching staff hadn’t addressed it.

Who the hell was he to tell another NHL player what he was doing wrong? Was he being an arrogant idiot to think he was that good that he could make a difference? Sure, he’d just had some success teaching a kid, but teaching adults—professionals, no less—was a whole different thing.

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