Marek (Cold Fury Hockey 11)

"Lilly, honey," Gracen says softly, and there's no hiding the quaver in her voice. She's scared to death, and I wish I could make it better for her, yet I don't know how. I also don't want to make it better for her. This is her bed she made, so I have some satisfaction in letting her lie in it. I'm a twisted fuck. "You know we're living here in Marek's house, right?"

Lilly nods her head, her lips pursed solemnly as she watches her mom with utter trust.

"Well," Gracen continues hesitantly. "This might be hard to understand, but Marek is actually your daddy."

Lilly's head slowly turns and she looks at me. I can tell she doesn't understand. My heart feels like it's about to burst out of my chest.

"He's your daddy just the way I'm your mommy," Gracen continues. "The way Pop-Pop is my daddy, Marek is your daddy."

Lilly just stares at Gracen and I'm not sure she's comprehending. Gracen's eyes slide over to me and I nod of reassurance. She's doing way better than I ever could.

Gracen shifts a little in the chair, cuddles closer to Lilly. She reaches her arm around Lilly's back in a protective cocoon. "You see, Marek and I used to be very good friends. And we made you together out of a whole lot of love. So he's your daddy and I'm your mommy."

Fuck. I swallow hard against the emotion. We made you from a whole lot of love.

I lock my jaw down hard and grit my teeth against the feelings bombarding me. It all comes rushing back...just how much Gracen and I loved each other.

My eyes focus on Lilly. Of all the questions I expect her to ask...

Where has he been all this time?

Why didn't you tell me before?

Will we live here forever?

Will he be my daddy now forever?

Does he love me?

She floors me when she looks at Gracen with the utmost seriousness and asks, "Are you going to marry him?"

Gracen doesn't even look to me for guidance. Her answer is immediate and swift. "No, honey. Your daddy and I are only friends who both love you very much. We're both going to take care of you and help you to grow up to be such a big girl. And I know this is hard to understand, but I'm really sorry you didn't know he was your daddy before. Mommy should have told you a long time ago and it was wrong of me--"

Okay, can't fucking stand that shit anymore. I cut in right over Gracen, making my voice heard for the first time since we sat down. I call her name to get her attention, "Lilly."

Her head turns to me, blue eyes just like mine looking at me with some confusion but mostly an eagerness to understand. I have no clue if these words are right for her because I've never had a serious talk with a toddler before, but they seem right to me. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you before. I had to go away and leave you and your mommy for my job. But we're together now and I will be a good daddy. I promise."

Gracen's head turns away and she looks out the window. Her fingers rub against Lilly's lower back.

"Your mommy and I are trying to get things figured out," I continue, since I have her attention. I figure she's understanding only about half my words, but I need to get them out. "But we both want you to be happy and we're going to work hard to make that so."

At this point I'd cue dramatic music and Lilly would scramble off Gracen's lap to launch herself into my arms. I didn't realize I craved something like that until just this very moment. I can almost even hear the music in my ears, but then there's the proverbial sudden scratch of a needle on an album.

Lilly turns to gaze at Gracen, who looks from the window back to her daughter with a bright smile even though I can tell it doesn't fully reach her eyes.

"Mommy...can I watch some more Paw Patrol?" Lilly asks, and my jaw drops.

Seriously? The kid just found out she has a daddy who's not going to be that douche Owen, and she wants to watch Paw Patrol?

"Sure, baby," Gracen says, and pushes up out of the chair. She turns to set Lilly back down into it and grabs the remote to aim at the TV.

I stand from the couch, watching as Lilly becomes completely engrossed in some stupid show where dogs drive fire trucks and fly helicopters.

Gracen walks past me toward the kitchen, but I snag her elbow and pull her into the formal room.

"What the hell--" I start to say, then realize that Lilly can probably hear me despite the fact I'm fiercely holding to a whisper level.

I pull Gracen into my bedroom and shut the door.

"What the hell?" I say again, this time in my normal voice. "You're just going to let her watch TV? What if she has questions? What if she doesn't understand what we just said to her? I mean, does she even really understand that I'm her father?"

My hackles rise as Gracen's eyes pin me with what can only be deemed as pity. "Marek, she doesn't understand. She probably only picked up a minimum of that message. When and if she has questions, she'll ask them, and we need to be ready to answer."

"If she only picked up a minimum, then we--"

Gracen pulls her arm out of my hand. I hadn't realized I'd still been holding on to her. I jerk from the contact when she instead takes my hand and gives is a reassuring squeeze.

"The conversation with her isn't over, but you'll learn this about Lilly and other three-year-olds," she advises me in a very patient, momlike voice. "Their attention span is that of a gnat. Her grasp of language is rudimentary, and we both probably said about twenty words to her she didn't even understand, daddy being one of them. It's a concept we'll have to teach her, and that will be through words and actions. For example, she may call you Marek. You need to correct her and have her call you Daddy, or whatever you want to be known as."

"Daddy's good," I grumble, instantly knowing that she's right about this. But how could she not be? She's been a mom to Lilly far longer than I've been a dad, which technically has been all of five minutes.

"Marek," Gracen says, and squeezes me once more before she lets go. "Lilly is super bright and inquisitive. She'll digest this. She'll have questions. We'll answer them. My best piece of advice to you is that now you need to get to know your daughter. Spend as much time as you can with her, because once the hockey season starts, that's going to cut into your time together."

I nod dumbly, trying to figure out how to go about doing this. I wish I'd paid better attention to Lilly and Gracen while they've been in this house, because I'm not quite sure how to interact with my daughter.

"Oh, and Marek," Gracen says softly.

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell her again that you had to go away for your job. Don't you dare take one ounce of the blame when she wants to know where you've been for three and a half years. That's mine alone to answer for."

I don't even have time to respond. Gracen spins on her heel and walks out of my bedroom, leaving me feeling utterly alone and quite helpless as to what to do right now.

Chapter 4

Gracen

I cover the ham with foil and place it in the oven. I've got homemade macaroni and cheese bubbling in the slow cooker and some broccoli steaming on the stove. I woke up this morning with a strong urge for a traditional home-cooked meal like my mom used to make, and I know that's nothing more than just a pure case of homesickness.

It's Sunday, and when I was living with my parents, after church Mom would make a huge lunch for us that would provide enough food for us to eat throughout the day and evening--ham, pot roast or baked pork chops; sweet potato casseroles, baked beans, and rice pilaf; fresh vegetables from her garden in the summer or from her canned stock in the winter.

And there'd always be a dessert: pies, cakes, or homemade ice cream.

Sundays were my favorite day of the week when I was back in the modestly sized town of Wilkie, New York. Not only because of the food, but because the day was spent with just my parents and Lilly. Owen didn't go to church, and he didn't do family dinners either.

At least not at the small, cheap dining table of Sheryl and Tim Moore.

It was beneath him, although he would never come

out and say that. He always said he had to work or made some other equally lame excuse, and I let him.

I let him because I didn't want him there, impeding on my family time with those I loved the most.

I close the oven door, set the timer on my iPhone, and consider dessert for today. My eyes catch on movement outside the window over the sink and I can't help but smile as I watch Marek playing with Lilly. By playing, I mean she's walking around the yard and checking things out, picking flowers and such. He's following and watching. I can tell by his posture that he's totally ill at ease, but the smile on his face is genuine as he soaks her in. He has no clue what to do with Lilly, but I'm not too worried about it. She'll teach him soon enough.

Yesterday's conversation was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do in my life. It's going to take some time for Lilly to get this, but she'll grow into the relationship with Marek. I'm sure she'll get there a lot more easily than he will.

Last night as I was tucking her into bed, she said, "I like this house."

I was expecting something like that. Not an overt question about learning Marek was her father, because that's also a concept she's going to have to figure out over time, but a roundabout way of poking to get a better grasp on things.