Page 4 of Second Chance with the Single Dad Goalie
“Yep.”
“And the magic?”
I chuckle. “Of course. The one with the magic.”
She sighs, completely satisfied. “Okay, see you soon, Dadda.”
I shake my head, heart full. “Soon, baby. Now, be good and give the phone to Miss Ruth.”
“Don’t forget to buy for Nico, okay? The green ones.”
“Okay.”
“Yesss,” she whispers, like I just told her she won a unicorn.
I chuckle. “All right, princess, give the phone back to Miss Ruth.”
There’s some muffled shuffling before Ruth’s voice returns. “Mr. Lennox.”
I straighten. “What have they been up to since I left?”
She pauses. “They watched TV, built a fort in the living room, played with some toys…, the usual.”
Typical.
“Sounds like a busy day,” I murmur.
My kids are good, but they’ve never been the kind to open up easily - not to new people, not to teachers, not even to some of their cousins. They are always together and avoid interacting with people.
“All right,” I say. “Thanks, Ruth. I’ll be back soon.”
“Yes, sir.”
I hang up, exhaling as I lean back against the car. My phone screen fades to black, but I tap it again, my eyes locking onto the picture staring back at me.
Mia and Nico, faces lit up in laughter, wearing matching team jerseys two sizes too big. Mia’s hands are thrown up in excitement, while Nico clutches a hockey stick like it’s the most precious thing in the world.
I trace a thumb over their faces. My kids. My world.
Hockey has been my life for as long as I can remember, but nothing… nothing… comes close to them. Every early morning practice, every grueling road trip, every bone-crushing game - it all pales in comparison to coming home to their hugs, their laughter, their endless questions about the world. I would give up everything before I ever failed them.
The way Mia giggles when she thinks I’m being silly, or the way Nico clings to my leg when I’m getting ready to leave. It’s magical, every time. Although being a single dad is challenging, they make it all worth it.
I checked the time again - 12:41 p.m. Mom’s flight should be landing in about five minutes.
With a sigh, I shove my phone into my pocket and step inside the terminal, weaving through the small crowd gathering near the arrivals gate. Soon, the overhead screen flashes her flight status - LANDED.
Minutes pass. People trickle out of the gate, some with wide smiles, others with tired eyes, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. My eyes sweep over them absently until…
I freeze.
A familiar figure moves through the crowd, her head tilted down, eyes glued to her phone.
It has been years. Years.
But I would recognize her anywhere.
The rush of memories is instant, unwanted. Late-night whispers. Laughter echoing through cold skating rinks. The way she used to look at me before everything…
