Marek (Cold Fury Hockey #11)(18)
Maybe they were daddy genes rearing their head, but I felt affronted and protective of Lilly all at once. Nothing unusual at all that the first person I got mad at was Gracen, because she was clearly upstairs still and couldn’t be bothered to help her daughter out.
“Here, let me help you,” I offered Lilly with my hands outstretched, prepared to pull her shirt off and put it on correctly.
At the same time, Gracen made an appearance in the kitchen and Lilly said to me, “I can do it.”
Gracen had a fond smile on her face as she watched Lilly struggle to take off the shirt. I observed a moment before stepping in to help her, and Gracen gave a quick shake of her head at me. “Let her do it herself.”
My jaw tightened and I moved back from Lilly. I watched as she ungracefully but with fierce determination got the shirt off. She looked inside to locate the tag in the back, her little tongue peeking out as she concentrated. It’s something I do as well—stick my tongue out when I’m concentrating on something. You can see me do it on the ice every time I have a breakaway. There’s no describing the feeling I got as I realized she probably inherited that from me, because Gracen never had that little quirk.
Lilly then put the shirt on correctly and beamed up at her mom. “I did it.”
“You are all kinds of awesome,” Gracen said as she bent over to kiss Lilly on the top of her head. She then walked into the living room and turned on the TV. “You can watch Paw Patrol while I make you some pancakes.”
“Can I watch Barbie?” Lilly quipped.
Gracen responded with a crisp, “Absolutely not,” and I had to think that Barbie must not have been a suitable show for our daughter.
I followed Gracen into the kitchen, and while she made herself a cup of coffee, I sidled in closer to her. In a low voice, I said, “So you don’t dress our kid in the morning?”
It came out menacing and defensive. Gracen merely arched her eyebrow at me in question.
“She’s only three years old,” I muttered.
“Three and a half closing in on four and has been dressing herself for months,” Gracen said proudly. “It makes her feel good to do things for herself and frankly, it’s my job to make her independent.”
The force of her words slammed into me so hard I took a step back. I know so little of parenting that I made a judgment call about Gracen’s ability without clearly knowing what the fuck I’m talking about. It’s so new to me, being a dad, that I want to do everything for Lilly because I never got to do anything for her.
Gracen however is actually “raising” her. Helping her to grow up.
All I could do was mutter, “Got it,” and then I turned away from her. I declined her offer to make me some pancakes too, and was only all too glad to slink out of my house to come help Holt. Clearly I had a lot to learn.
It’s why busting shit up at Holt’s house appealed to me. I could take out my frustrations in a physical way.
“Think she’s going to stay for the long haul?” Reed asks.
I give a little shake of my head to clear my thoughts. “Why wouldn’t she?”
Reed shrugged his shoulders. “The better question is why would she?”
“Because she knows not to fuck with me,” I growl back at him. “I won’t let her keep Lilly away from me.”
The softening of Reed’s face puts me on edge. He’s been antagonistic to me since I brought Gracen and Lilly here, being the one person who is calling me on my shit. The fact he’s looking at me empathetically bothers the shit out of me.
“What?” The defensive tone in my voice lets him know just how much he’s wigging me out.
“You can’t stop her from going back,” Reed says softly. “You may think you could win a custody battle, but you can’t. No judge is going to take Lilly away from Gracen and give her to you when you travel ten out of twelve months a year. You’re smart and you know that, so you need to let that threat go and figure out how to make her want to stay.”
A feeling of panic rises up within me as I realize what Reed says is true. I’ve been all bluster with my threats to Gracen and it’s worked so far in putting her right where I want her. But Reed is right: I can’t parent Lilly full time on my own. Gracen and her career as a nurse makes her a far more stable option for our daughter.
Jesus.
“Might I suggest you be nice to Gracen,” Reed says offhandedly. “Give her a reason to want to stay. You two don’t have to be friends, you only have to be civil to each other around Lilly. She’ll stay and you’ll be able to get to know your daughter in the time that you have available during the season.”
Another crushing weight pushes down on my shoulders.
The hockey season.
Training camp starts next week. Travel starts the week after that. My opportunities with Lilly will be scarce, and for the first time in my adult life, I think there is something more important than hockey to me.
A flash of guilt hits me that I didn’t feel that way when I broke things off with Gracen. I was young and wanted freedom. I wanted to do my own thing. Would I still have felt that way if I knew she was pregnant? I hope to fuck not, but who I am today isn’t who I was back then.
This is a disconcerting thought, because the images in my mind as I think about how to manage time with Lilly and career aren’t just of Lilly. I imagine Gracen in my kitchen cooking pancakes for both Lilly and me, or Gracen and Lilly at one of my games.