Page 2 of Second Chance with the Single Dad Goalie
It’s not that I don’t love my family - I do. But being back in Autumn Cove for an extended period? That’s a different story. The town is charming in the way small towns are, all friendly faces, everyone knows everyone, and it has cozy traditions. And as much as I hate to admit it, part of me misses the familiarity of it - the quiet streets, the little coffee shop on Main, the scent of pine and snow in the air, and lots more.
It’s just..., it’s just everything else that comes with it.
Like memories I’d rather not revisit. Memories like him.
I grab the vacuum cleaner, running it over the last patch of the living room carpet. The rhythmic back-and-forth motion soothes me, giving me something mindless to focus on.
My thoughts, though, aren’t as easy to control. I pause mid-swipe, staring at the floor. Of course, he will be around, after all, he’s the best friend and best man to the groom, my brother. But maybe, if I’m lucky, he will be busy with his own life, much too occupied to help with the wedding preparations.
Afterall, hockey players are always busy, right?
I shake my head and keep moving, the sound of the vacuum filling the silence. After finishing the cleaning, I roll the vacuum back into the closet and glance at my luggage, tucked in the corner. It’s been a while since I’ve packed for Autumn Cove. Most of my trips are to far-flung places - like Italy, Greece, or Bali. Packing for my hometown feels foreign now, like I’m preparing for an entirely different kind of journey.
Deciding to get my packing over and done with now that I am up and about, I grab the suitcase and set it on my bed, unzipping it with a sense of resignation. I grab sweaters, jeans, warm coats, and whatever I deem appropriate. As I fold my clothes, my mind drifts.
It has been years since I spent more than a handful of days back home. My visits have been carefully timed, quick in-and-outs where I could keep things on the surface-level and avoid the deeper conversations on why I chose to live my life doing something as unprofitable and useless as an influencer.
You see, I’ve gotten good at keeping my distance. As my mother put it, I breeze in and breeze out. It worked well for me. Not because I don’t care, but because life is simpler when you’re not in the middle of family dynamics, disappointing feelings, or “important discussions.”
I am fairly sure being an “influencer” is going to be one of the important family discussions we are going to have, oh, and lots of suggestions and orders on what I should do and how I should live my life.
I glance at the half-packed suitcase by the bed, but my heart’s not in it. As I toss a sweater into the suitcase, I pause, my fingers running over the soft fabric. A twinge of unease flickers in my chest as my thoughts go back to him, but I push it down.
I won’t have time to dwell on old wounds.
Witha sigh, I continue packing, and an hour later, I snap the suitcase shut with a little more force than necessary. “It’s just a few weeks,” I mutter to myself. “Go home, play the good daughter, help with the wedding, and get out before anyone tries to unpack your whole life. No drama, no complications.”
At least, that’s the plan.
Chapter two
Blake
It's 12:36 p.m.
Ten more minutes until my mother’s flight lands.
Leaning against the hood of my car, I exhale, watching the steady flow of travelers spilling out of the airport doors. Some people rush toward waiting taxis, others linger, searching for familiar faces. I should go inside, grab a coffee, maybe stretch my legs. But before I can move, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Ruth.
I answer immediately. “Ruth? Are the kids okay?”
“They’re fine, Mr. Lennox,” she says. “It’s just that Mia has been restless. She’s been insisting on talking to you.”
I sigh, already picturing her - those big, expressive eyes, tiny brows scrunched in determination.
“Put her on.”
There’s a rustle, then a small voice comes through the line.
“Hello, dadda.”
The tightness in my chest loosens. “Hey, princess.” My voice softens without thinking. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you napping?”
“I woke up,” she says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And I needed to talk to you.”
I smirk. “You woke up, baby.”
