Learn Your Lesson: A Single Dad Hockey Romance (Kings of the Ice)

Will

I realized, in the week that passed after that fateful night, that I both loved and hated the deal I’d made with Chloe Knott.

I hadn’t seen a single flaw with it when I’d taken the approximately ten seconds to think it through as I stormed into the pool house. We both wanted each other. We were alone for the night. If we made a deal for just sex, then everything would be great.

And fuck, was it great.

I’d thought about that night every moment since.

I couldn’t watch Chloe eat her breakfast without thinking about eating her. She knew it, too, because when she’d catch me staring at her, those pretty cheeks would flush pink the way I loved them to, and I’d smirk and look away knowing she was thinking exactly what I was.

But as much as I wished I could say everything was peachy, there were complications.

The first being that I had zero fucking clue before I spread her out on the pool house kitchen island that she was practically a virgin.

My body still hummed anytime my brain played back how she’d asked me to teach her, and everything inside me wound tight just begging for the chance. We hadn’t found one yet. Between hockey, school, and Ava — there wasn’t a whole lot of opportunity to fuck without the high risk of being caught.

Oddly enough, waiting for round two with Chloe wasn’t even the most difficult part of this mess. In fact, that part was kind of… fun. Exhilarating. I knew the wait would only make the next time I got to touch her that much better.

No, the hardest part was that I fucking missed her.

Apparently, when Chloe gave her word, she gave it with her whole chest. I’d told her I couldn’t be her friend. I’d looked her right in the eye and made her agree to stop asking about my life and to stop telling me about hers.

And so, she had.

Other than pleasantries, the last week had been devastatingly void of Chloe-isms.

She didn’t join me when I sat down to watch Jeopardy after Ava was asleep. She didn’t bring her current craft projects inside, but rather kept them all in the pool house — away from me. At dinner, she talked to Ava or Chef Patel.

She very carefully avoided chatting with me, unless it was a group conversation.

I knew she still woke up in the middle of the night, but she no longer graced me with her presence in the kitchen or by the pool. She stayed in the pool house, reading a book on the couch or making her own late-night snack before ambling back to bed.

This was the boundary I told her I needed.

It was the boundary I knew I needed.

And yet…

Frustration curdled deep in my belly as I put Ava to bed the following Friday night, her head on my shoulder as I read Broken Crayons Still Color. She clutched her favorite plush fish to her chest, absentmindedly playing with the fins with her eyes glued to the pages as I turned them.

“Daddy?” she asked when I closed the book.

“Mm?”

“Did Mommy like to read?”

The question knocked the breath out of me.

After the event at school, I’d taken Chloe’s advice and told Ava how her mother was the one who loved donuts — not me. My daughter had lit up at the tiny tidbit of information, asking what flavors were Jenny’s favorite and whether she had a favorite donut store. That conversation had led to us going to Krispy Kreme bright and early on a Sunday morning and getting all Jenny’s favorites for Ava to try — starting with the lemon-filled one.

Before then, Ava had never really asked about her mom.

Then again, she hadn’t spoken much at all for a long time. That hadn’t worried me, not until it was time to start kindergarten and Uncle Mitch asked if I was worried about her falling behind. She wasn’t speaking up in class, wasn’t comfortable talking to her peers during activities.

But when Chloe had tutored her a bit in the first semester, it helped her tremendously with communication. Since becoming our nanny, she’d somehow managed to make a chatterbox out of my daughter. Ava was gabbing away most nights, and the more she talked, the more questions she had.

Apparently, those questions were shifting toward Jenny.

I wanted to punch myself right in the fucking nose, because this was completely natural for a little girl who’d lost her mom. What wasn’t natural was how I had done such a shit job telling Ava about Jenny. She should have known so much about her, but I’d been too caught up in my own grief to give her anything.

“It wasn’t her favorite thing,” I admitted, setting the book in my lap.

Ava kept her head on my shoulder, fingers plucking at the shiny fins of the orange stuffed fish in her arms. “How come?”

“Your mom was always on the go. She loved to be outside, or traveling, or doing something new with friends. That didn’t really leave much time for reading.”

“Oh,” Ava said, nodding.

We were quiet for a long while, and I searched every corner of my dumb fucking brain for something more to say. But I came up empty.

“I’m sorry I don’t talk about your mom more,” I finally landed on. “I… would you like me to do that?”

Ava shrugged, but then nodded again — like she was afraid she’d hurt my feelings if she admitted that she would very much like to know about her own mother.

“Well, then — I’ll do that,” I promised, kissing her head. “Maybe we could even plan a trip for you to go up and visit MorMor this summer. Would you like that?”

Another nod, though it was a bit more unsure. Jenny’s mother was born in Denmark, and when we’d had Ava, she’d asked to be called MorMor just like Jenny called her grandmother, and so on.

Jenny’s mom was around a lot in the beginning, when Ava was born, and then again when Jenny passed. But since then, we’ve only seen her twice — and both times, she came to Florida. I had never taken Ava up to Wisconsin where Jenny was born and raised. I’d never made an effort for Ava to have any sort of relationship with her aunt or her cousins, either.

I guessed since my family was so small and didn’t really make an effort to see one another, I just thought that was normal.

“Okay, then. I’ll work on that. And again, I’m sorry if I haven’t…” I clamped my jaw shut, chewing on the words I didn’t know how to say.

“It’s okay, Daddy,” Ava whispered, and she looked up at me with those beautiful green eyes, the same shade as her mom’s. “We are doing our best.”

My throat constricted, jaw tight as I did everything I could not to break into a million fucking pieces right there. I nodded, kissing her forehead once more before I climbed off the bed. I tucked my daughter in as she yawned, and with an I love you and goodnight, I clicked on her night light and slipped out the door.

I stood in the hallway for a long moment afterward, eyes shut and head resting against the wall.

Some days, I really sucked at being a father.

My heart ached wondering what it would be like if things had happened differently — if Jenny were still here. A flash of what could have been hit me like a life in fast forward. I imagined bath times full of adventure and giggles and water splashing everywhere. I saw Ava traveling and exploring with her mom — beach days, theme parks, markets, and bike rides. I saw a life where I had a friend by my side to help in this wild thing called parenting. She would have been so much better at it.

Emotion stung my eyes when I finally opened them, and I sniffed, standing straight and composing myself.

The conversation with Chloe in the pool resurfaced in my mind again.

“Maybe it’s something we can do together. We can start introducing Ava to her mom one thing at a time. A food she loved, a place she enjoyed, a song, a movie, a photograph, or memory.”

I swallowed past the knot in my throat, pushing off the wall behind me and making my way downstairs like a zombie. Soft laughter wafted up the stairs as I descended, and when I rounded into the foyer, I found Chloe and Chef Patel at the small dining table — each with a glass of wine in hand.

“I can’t believe you made a scarecrow father and hid him in your closet for years,” Chef said on another laugh, shaking her head and looking at Chloe as if seeing her for the first time. “What did your mom do when she finally found it?”

“Oh, what she thought was even worse,” Chloe said. “Arushi. Are you ready for this?” She paused, waiting, and then shook her head like she still couldn’t believe it herself. “My mother, bless her, swore that I’d made that damn scarecrow as a boyfriend — and that I was doing sinful things with a pair of overalls stuffed with straw.”

“No!” Chef covered her mouth as a peel of laughter slipped through. “Stop it, you’re kidding!”

“I wish I was. It was already mortifying as it was to admit that I wanted a father figure badly enough to stitch something so hideous together. But to then have my mother assume I was hiding some sort of pleasure doll?” Chloe rolled her eyes on a groan as Arushi burst into another fit of laughter. “I never recovered. Even now, I have hives under my hoodie just thinking about it.”

She shoved the sleeve of said hoodie up as if to illustrate, and Chef squeezed her wrist before wiping tears from her eyes.

Chloe looked beautiful.

She always did.

Tonight, she wore a lavender hoodie that read Half Teacher, Half Tea on it. It was paired with flimsy gray sweat shorts that rode up between her thighs in the most delicious way. Her hair was pulled into a tiny bun on top of her head, though it was short enough that the bottom half of it fell out of the hair tie and hugged her neck, instead.

I stood in the hallway and watched her smile for longer than I should have.

She had the best fucking smile.

Why couldn’t I say shit like this to her?

Why couldn’t I tell her how much I missed her asking me questions and telling me her weird stories, how badly I wanted to make her smile just the way she was right now.

Words were broken for me. They always had been.

Then again, maybe it wasn’t just words. Maybe it was my heart, my soul, my ability to care for another human being without the fear of losing them.

It wasn’t just Jenny, although that was the freshest wound. But I’d lost my mom. I’d lost my father, even though he was still alive. And there was only so much loving and losing a person could do before a piece of them just… broke.

I’d meant what I said to Chloe that night in the pool house. I couldn’t give her a relationship. I couldn’t be her friend.

What I’d left out was that I wished I could.

Like right now, I wanted to ask her about her father. I wanted to know why she never knew him. Did he pass away? Did he leave her and her mom? Did her mom leave him?

But I didn’t have the right. I was the one who put the boundaries in place, and they needed to exist.

Especially because I was a starved man when it came to her, and I’d do anything, play by any rules just to have the chance to hear her moan my name again.

“I think I missed quite the story,” I said, finally joining them in the dining area.

The words announced my presence, and Chef beamed a smile my way, gesturing for me to sit while she immediately jumped up to grab me a glass of milk.

Chloe, on the other hand, flushed a deep red and looked down at the table, untying her hair only to tie it back up again. It was still just as messy as before, and she seemed to not know what to do with her hands once she was done. She glanced up at me with a worried expression once Chef was gone.

“I’m sorry, we were just chatting. I can—”

“Stop,” I told her, hating how she was already moving to stand and hide away in that fucking pool house. I wanted to burn it down so she had no choice but to stay here. “This is your home, too.”

She swallowed. “I don’t want you to think I’m trying to… I was just…”

“Chloe, it’s fine. I—” I stopped myself before I could finish that sentence, which was I miss you being here.

Or maybe it was I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide.

I didn’t mean I never want to talk to you ever.

I didn’t mean any of it at all.

I… don’t know what I mean.

Instead, I cleared my throat just in time for Chef to join us again, handing me the glass of milk before she took a seat with her wine.

She patted the chair next to her, arching a brow at me and casting a curious look between me and Chloe.

I was thankful she didn’t ask whatever questions I knew she wanted to in that moment.

“Actually, I’m glad you’re both still here,” I said, nerves firing to life as I decided to go through with the harebrained idea I’d had on the way down the stairs. “I need your help.”

Arushi paused where she was lifting her glass to her lips, her wide eyes such a dark brown they nearly blended in with her pupils as she blinked at me.

“Did you just ask for help?” She sat her glass down and dug her phone out of her pocket. “Sorry, I need to record the date and time.”

I leveled her with a look.

“Ava just asked about Jenny.”

That made both her and Chloe pause, the two of them exchanging a glance before Chloe asked, “What did she say?”

“She wanted to know if Jenny liked to read.”

Chef’s eyes got a little misty when she smiled, covering her heart with one hand. “Oh, that sweet, sweet child.”

“After you and I talked, I told Ava about how much Jenny loved donuts,” I said to Chloe. I didn’t miss how Arushi narrowed her eyes when I referenced Chloe and me talking. “And I think now she’s curious. She’s thinking about all the things I’ve been too much of a coward to say.”

“You’re not a coward,” Chef staid instantly. “You were a grieving husband and a new father trying to figure it out.”

Those words hung heavy on my shoulders for a long moment. All I could do was nod.

“Well, I’ve been thinking more about what you said,” I finally croaked, clearing my throat before I found Chloe’s gaze. “About introducing Ava to Jenny one thing at a time.”

“Oh?” Chef tapped the table between us. “What’s this plan? I want in.”

“I mentioned that maybe we could slowly tell her more about Jenny,” Chloe said. “You know, share her favorite song or watch her favorite movie. Do the things she loved to do.”

“This is a wonderful plan,” Chef said gleefully, her eyes bright and wide when she flashed them back to me. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well, that’s why I wanted to talk to you both. Chloe, is there any chance in hell you could get off work next Monday?”

Chloe made a face like she wasn’t sure. “I mean, I haven’t taken vacation since I started working at this school. So, technically, yes. I have the time. My only concern is that it’s only a little over a week away. But I can certainly make the necessary calls. As long as there is a sub available, I don’t see why not.”

“You haven’t taken a vacation?” Chef repeated, brows inching together. “Like… ever?”

“I love my job,” Chloe said with a shrug. “And I get the summer off. Besides, where am I going to go? What am I going to do?” She waved a hand toward the pool house. “Play games with my cats? Answer the many male suitors who come to call?”

Arushi smirked. “I bet there would be many male suitors, if you ever went out to meet them. That’s what we need,” she added with a snap of her fingers. “A girls’ night out. I’ll bet Maven and Livia would jump at the chance. Maybe next time Grace is in town—”

“What about you, Chef Patel?” I interrupted, cracking my neck and hoping it came off just as me being sore and stiff from last night’s game, and not that I was two seconds away from hauling Chloe up over my shoulder caveman style and taking her to my room so I could lock her up and ensure no man ever looked at her again.Content © copyrighted by NôvelDrama.Org.

Chef’s smirk tilted my way now, an amused glint in her eyes.

Damn her.

“I work for you,” she pointed out sarcastically. Then, she pretended to be concerned, her bottom lip protruding. “Sore neck?”

“I’m fine,” I grumbled, and I looked away from her before she could chuckle into her wine glass.

“Why?” Chloe asked. “What’s going on next Monday?”

“I’ll have Sunday off, and we’ll have a later, lighter practice that Monday. The schedule has been crazy lately, and we’re closing in on the end of the season over the next couple of months. Coach has been pretty insistent that we take time away from the rink when we can.”

The women in front of me nodded.

“So, I was thinking…” I grimaced, grabbing the back of my neck and wondering if I even wanted to say these words. Because once they were out, there’d be no turning back.

“What?” Chef asked impatiently, snapping her fingers. “Come on, spit it out, I don’t have all night. My brothers are having a Carrom tournament, and I have ten minutes before I need to leave or I’ll lose my chance to take all their money again.”

“Oh, what’s Carrom?” Chloe asked excitedly.

“It’s a tabletop game, kind of like finger billiards — but with small disks. I’ll explain another time when Mr. Turkey isn’t edging us with the possibility of pulling his daughter out of school for a day of hooky for some mysterious reason.”

Two pairs of eyes swung back to me, and I scratched my neck before letting out a long, heavy sigh.

“There were many places Jenny loved to go on a day off,” I said. “But, from the second she moved to Florida, one place trumped everything else.”

I looked up at the ceiling, another flash of Jenny assaulting me like a bright blinding light. I saw her wide smile, my hand in hers as she tugged me through the most godforsaken place on the planet — with the most idiotic mouse ears on her head.

With another exhale, I brought my gaze to Chloe. “Disney World.”

The table was so silent I could hear the dishwasher running in the next room.

“Disney World,” Chef repeated, deadpan, like there was no way she’d heard me correctly.

“Disney World?!” Chloe echoed, her mouth falling open on a smile as she clapped and bounced gleefully in her chair.

“Disney World,” I said again.

And then I was tackled in a hug so fierce I nearly flew off my chair.