Rush: The Season (Austin Arrows Book 1)(5)
“I’m finishing my homework.”
I sigh. “Why didn’t you do it last night?” I yell back.
No answer.
This would’ve been a whole lot easier if I’d simply gone up there, but that would’ve required me to tackle those sixteen steps and … well, I don’t have enough energy to do that unless I’m required to stanch blood flow or administer CPR or … something equally important. Luckily, I’ve never encountered either of those when it comes to my kid. Knock on wood.
Knowing Bianca’s reason for procrastinating doesn’t matter, I head to my bedroom to change out of the pajamas I’d put on a short while ago. I pull on a pair of thin leggings and an oversized sweater, then slide my feet back into my slippers and return only to hear the bus passing the house. Since there isn’t much time before we have to leave, and I know my kid will be starving by lunch, I grab a granola bar and one of the small bottles of chocolate milk from the fridge. If I leave it up to my daughter, she’ll snatch a bag of chips and a Mountain Dew—certainly not the breakfast of champions.
After I peek at the clock and pour what’s left in the coffee carafe into my mug, I glance around the kitchen. The dishes from last night’s dinner are still in the sink, which isn’t surprising. If I open the trash can, I’m sure I’ll find that it hasn’t been taken out, either. Bianca and I share those chores most of the time, but last night, before I went back to work, she promised me she would get them done.
Sometimes, I don’t know what to do with that kid. If she weren’t so freaking awesome, I might be tempted to throttle her.
“Okay. I’m ready,” Bianca huffs, storming into the kitchen.
I turn around to take in the sight of my daughter for the first time this morning.
What the…?
With my coffee mug halfway to my lips, I stop and stare.
My kid is only twelve—twelve and a half if you ask her—yet sometime in the last year, she got the crazy notion that she was all grown up. In many ways, she is, I won’t lie. A lot of that has to do with the fact that I’m a single mom and her father has never been in the picture. During a wild and crazy girls’ night in Vegas on my twenty-first birthday, I kind of had a one-night fling with a hot guy I met in the sports book at one of the casinos we visited. Truth is, aside from agreeing to meet up at a club on the strip, we didn’t do a whole lot of talking, and we definitely didn’t share many details about ourselves—other than our first names—which was probably due to the copious amounts of alcohol we’d consumed.
Needless to say, one thing led to another and … well, as you can probably figure out by now, what happens in Vegas doesn’t always stay in Vegas.
So, after a few hours of sweaty naked time, apparently, the condom broke. And that’s how I found myself single and pregnant at twenty-one. The first thing I learned during my pregnancy—after, of course, finding out that morning sickness is, in fact, a real thing—was that there are a lot of men named James in the world. I mean, a lot.
It’s safe to say my skills as a private investigator suck, so I’ve never found him. I’ve done my best to explain to Bianca what happened because I believe in being brutally honest. It might not paint me in the most favorable light, but that’s okay. I accept my mistakes, and above all else, I don’t have any regrets. After all, that one fuzzy night brought me the greatest thing I could ever hope for—my daughter.
The fact that he’s not in the picture is okay because Bianca and I … we make a pretty good team. Sometimes I feel guilty, though—to both him and to her. I hate that they’ve never met, but honest to God, I don’t know how to fix that, so I’ve learned to live with it. Before my parents died five years ago, I had their complete support, which was a blessing when she was little. And since then, my older brother, Spencer, and his best friend, Kingston, have been great male role models in her life. I consider us lucky in that regard.
“Here.” I thrust her breakfast toward her, ignoring the fact that there is a neon pink streak in her hair that wasn’t there at dinner last night. Now, I’m no Nancy Drew, but I’m pretty sure that’s the reason she didn’t get her homework done.
“Thanks.”
I decide not to give her too much crap for a couple of reasons. One, it’s too damn early and no kid is going to retain a lecture when their brain is still fuzzy from sleep. And two, my brain is too fuzzy to come up with a decent lecture. So, I let it go as we hop into my car and head to school.
“Do you think we can bring Gabby to a hockey game soon?” Bianca asks, her eyes never turning my direction.
“Probably.”
My brother is the captain of the Austin Arrows, and since the day he signed with them years and years ago, I’ve managed to rarely miss a home game. For the most part, Bianca always goes with me unless she’s spending the night with her best friend.
“Why?” I ask. “Does Gabby want to go?” Gabby has never shown much interest in hockey before, although she has attended a couple of games with us.
“Yeah. She said it’d be cool.”
I can’t help but wonder if this has anything to do with my daughter’s most recent crush on the Arrows’ new backup goalie. Last year, I’m pretty sure her crush was on Colton Seguine, the cocky defenseman, but I could be wrong. Those infatuations have changed so frequently as of late.