A once-great Finnish hockey player, Lars’s dad, Sven Nyquist, had trashed his NHL career with a gambling ban, then decided he could probably one-up that on the road to ruin his reputation. After several years of substance abuse, drunk-driving arrests, and bar brawling, he’d died instantly when his car wrapped around a tree six months ago.
In the past year, my family had brought Lars into the fold, it seemed. I balked at the idea that Aurora, and possibly my whole family, had the inside scoop on Lars Nyquist and his “needs.” The man was supposed to bemysecret crush, not everyone else’s!
“Well, if he has his way, the baby will be returned to her mother or the state, he’ll be absolved of all responsibility, and his life will go on without a care.”
Aurora studied me. “Still taking things so seriously.”
“This is serious business. We’re talking about a baby.”
“I know, I know.” She patted my hand. “But neither Lars nor the baby are your responsibility. The man has the resources of a billion-dollar franchise at his disposal. The baby will be fine.”
Would she? Was that the only concern, that she was fed and sheltered? I hated to think of her most basic needs being efficiently met yet no one was worried about the impact this change would have on her emotional growth and development. But Aurora was right: not my monkeys, not my circus. That should have left me relieved instead of irritable.
“I’ll let you sleep.” I rinsed out my cup and put it in the dish rack. “I’ll keep you updated.”
“Or I can just drop in for breakfast tomorrow and hear it myself. I assume the baby’s staying the night here?”
“Where else?” Lars had my parents wrapped around his little finger.
Aurora stood and gave me a hug. “I’m so glad you’re home, honey. I’ve missed you. Talking on video call wasn’t the same.”
“No, it wasn’t. I missed you so much.” Seeing her in person reminded me that she wasn’t getting any younger. I wanted to hear her stories, learn all about her daughter, the grandmother I never met who had died when my dad was a teen. “Could I come see you tomorrow? I’d love to chat aboutyou, not all this Rebels drama.”
I also needed some homespun wisdom to get me through the next few weeks and months. Aurora always knew the right thing to say, plus she was a hoot.
“I have Tai Chi in the morning, so stop by in the afternoon.”
With one last kiss to her forehead—she was a tiny thing—I returned to the house, back through the front door. Standing at the entrance to the kitchen, I remained half-hidden so I could assess the situation. Mom was at the stove heating up some of the formula Vicki had included in the diaper bag. Dad was inventorying the baby supplies on the table. Eggsbee snored softly in his doggie daybed. As for Lars? The man of the hour was holding the baby, probably under sufferance. Yet my heart contracted at the sight.
He still looked scared, but there was something else.
Curiosity. Like the baby was a puzzle.
I found this amusing, and because I found it amusing, I was no longer angry with him. Aurora was right, I needed to be kinder about this. Maybe he wasn’t going to bail as soon as someone said he could do so legally. Or maybe he would. But you know what? It was none of my business. Lars Nyquist was none of my business.
That torch I’d carried was well and surely doused. A man who could barely look at his own flesh and blood was not romance material. I could move on, not even be embarrassed about what happened last year because Lars had shown me a side of himself I didn’t enjoy.
Then he caught my eye and arched an eyebrow as if to say,can you believe it?And there went my heart again, skittering like an oversexed bunny.
Yeah, I could believe it. I could believe that this man could assess a situation, recalibrate as needed, and figure out a new game plan. Hockey players were professionals at adapting. That initial panic appeared to have subsided, and in its place was a man who saw a challenge. Who might even be up to it.
Was that sexy? It shouldn’t have been, but maybe I saw sexiness in everything Lars Nyquist.
“Addy.” My dad smiled at me. “Could you do me a favor and get the second bassinet out of the basement? And anything else you see down there that might be useful?”
Lars looked up with a frown. “Kershaw, you don’t need to give me all this stuff.”
“Why not? Unless you’re planning on sending your non-existent PA out to shop for you, you may as well take it. And our help.”
Lars gave a brusque nod, followed with a quick glance my way. “Thanks, Adeline.”
It didn’t take long to find what we needed. My mom had packed everything away, labeling all the plastic totes clearly. Clothes, toys, equipment. Through one of the transparent boxes, something familiar caught my eye.
Bear! My soft teddy, given to me by Erik Jorgenson, the legendary former Rebels goaltender. I’d been obsessed with it as a kid, and the way my life had been going lately, I probably wouldn’t mind holding onto it to see me through the night.
Something else in the box snagged my attention—blue copybooks. I opened one and flipped through the pages of stats in my girlish script. I wasn’t sporty like the boys, but this was my way to contribute to the Kershaw family business. After each game, I would show my dad how he’d done, as if he didn’t have a team of experts at Rebels HQ to give him the goods.
Your TOI isn’t as good these last three games, Dad. That’s one of the stats GMs care most about! And points are becoming really important to defense.I’d obviously read that somewhere. I lived in constant fear of my dad being traded, taking me away from my best friend Rosie and upending my life as I knew it.