Hot Puck (Rough Riders Hockey 2)

Beckett imagined Eden getting up for something to drink, venturing through the apartment, and finding Lily’s room. And bailing as fast as Viviana had. That both hurt and angered.

He crushed the paper and pitched the ball into the sink. “Fuck it.”

Beckett turned into his room, pulled fresh clothes from his drawers, and headed to the shower. He didn’t need a woman in his life anyway. Lily filled every square millimeter of his heart.

The long, hot shower relieved sore muscles, reset Beckett’s inner landscape to single dad, badass hockey player, and he drove to his parents’ house with only a twinge of lingering resentment. Only considered calling Eden and confronting her half a dozen times.

By the time he turned up the long, winding drive of his parents’ house on an Arlington hillside overlooking the Potomac, he was only mildly annoyed at how his morning had unfolded. An hour of focused Lily time would straighten him out. An hour of focused Lily time could right any wrong in Beckett’s life. And leaving her this afternoon for a week wasn’t exactly sitting right with him either.

He parked behind his mother’s Lexus SUV and started up the walk. A chorus of giggles erupted somewhere near the kitchen and floated to Beckett. A smile filled his heart. He took a long, deep breath of the fresh Virginia air and soaked in the silence of the countryside. That was all he needed to remind himself his life was fucking awesome.

He chuckled at himself for getting so wound up over a chick he hardly knew. And by the time he’d climbed the stairs and reached for the door handle, he knew everything in his world was about to be put exactly right.

Beckett pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped into the wide foyer. Straight ahead, the massive living room looked out onto his parents’ property and the Potomac beyond. It had snowed last night, and a dusting still clung to the trees and bushes.

Unlike his apartment, his parents’ house teemed with life. The three granddaughters giggled downstairs in the finished basement his parents used as a playroom. His mother, father, and sister chatted in the kitchen.

“Something sure smells good,” Beckett said, heading toward the kitchen first to say hello. All three members of his family turned to smile at him from the kitchen table. “What did you make me for breakfast?”

His mother was beaming. She always beamed when the grandkids were here. “Lily ate hers and yours.”

“Man, is she growing,” Sarah said. “I swear she’s two inches taller than when I saw her last week.”

Beckett couldn’t stop grinning. “Yeah, she’s definitely had a spurt. I’m going to have to buy her new clothes in a few weeks if this keeps up.”

His sister and his mother shared a glance. “Shopping with Beckett’s credit card.” Sarah pumped her fist. “Yes.”

Beckett was laughing when all three girls raced up the stairs, then squealed through the living room and into the kitchen, where their high-pitched shrieks echoed off the tile and made everyone cringe.

All four of the adults tried variations of “tone it down,” but the girls ran around the table and skittered off into the depths of the three-thousand-square-foot house.

Beckett stared after them, hands held out to the sides. “What the hell? Do I have chopped liver written on my forehead today or what?” Then he yelled, “Lily Nicole Croft, get your little tush back here and say hello to your dad.”

But the girls continued to laugh and squeal. And for the first time in a year, Lily didn’t come running to him. His heart fell to his feet. To cover the second blow of the morning and his true heartache over Lily’s show of independence, he dramatically slapped a hand to his chest and hung his head. “Oh my God. I think my heart just shattered.”

His mother stood from the table. “Lily, you’re breaking your daddy’s heart.” She paused to squeeze Beckett’s arm and grinned at him. “She slept through the night, no bad dreams. She woke and didn’t fuss over you not being here this morning. She’s making real progress, Beckett.”

His mom disappeared into the living room at the same time that their home phone rang. His father called, “I’ll get it.” And stood to answer, leaving Sarah and Beckett at the kitchen table.

“Thanks for staying over with the girls,” Beckett told her.

“Anytime. They all entertain each other so well, I get to read and knit and watch a TV show without interruption. It’s like a vacation.”

Beckett grinned, but it was pained. “Not easy raising them alone.”

Sarah was married to a marine who was on his second tour overseas. Aside from his mother—and possibly Eden, though since she bailed, he’d never get a chance to find out—Sarah was the strongest woman he knew.

She covered his hand with hers and squeezed. “You are an amazing father. The fact that she’s not sobbing all over you right now shows just how great a job you’re doing. And it does get easier. Raising them alone, I mean. It’s already easier than when you got her, right?”

Beckett winced, remembering how broken his little girl had been. “A hundred times easier.”

She released his hand and gave him that now-let’s-get-down-to-business look.

He groaned. “Oh God. What?”

“Nika called me last night.”

Nika Kristoff was the young wife of the team’s newest, and youngest, center, Andre. The couple was nineteen and twenty-one respectively, brand-new to the United States, with all their family back in Russia. They already had a two-year-old son and another baby on the way. To keep Andre focused on the ice, Beckett had set up a support network for Nika, which included Sarah.