Rebound (Seattle Steelheads #1)(91)

David had been a tougher egg to crack. He wasn’t hostile toward me, but he wasn’t sure about me either. He was also more of an introvert than his sister. It was getting easier with time, though, and when all else failed, hockey could get him chattier than any other topic I could think of. That, or swimming. Geoff’s ex-wife reassured me that David took a while to bond with people.

“Don’t take it personally,” she’d told me when she and her husband had helped move Geoff and the kids into the house. “He obviously likes you, but it’ll still take some time.”

Geoff and Mahmoud had both echoed what Valerie had said, so I was confident we’d get there when David was ready.

Playing hockey with them was helping. I’d asked the team if they minded me bringing the kids to closed practices, and they’d loved the idea. Some of the other guys brought their older kids once in a while, and Wilson even brought his four-year-old every now and then, so it wasn’t like we were strangers to having kids on the ice with us.

After we’d run drills and our own scrimmage games, David and Claire would join us on the ice, and that was a blast. Turned out, David and Claire loved playing hockey. They’d never tried it before, but once they’d had their first taste of a low-key scrimmage, they were hooked. The rest of the team was, too. If we all went out afterward, we’d go someplace that wasn’t strictly twenty-one and over, and the guys would even go easy on the drinking until the kids left.

“Fuck!” David’s voice brought me back into the present, and I turned to watch the puck he’d just shot fly past the goal with a foot and a half to spare.

I skated toward him, but Grady was already there, explaining why the shot had gone wide. David nodded along, and then Grady took a puck and headed across the ice to pass it to him so they could try it again. The puck sailed toward him, David caught it deftly with his stick, and when he shot it this time, he still didn’t make the goal, but he only missed it by half an inch or so this time.

“Good!” I said. “Keep practicing—you’re almost there!”

David flashed me an actual smile, and he nodded. Then Grady passed him another puck, and he took the shot. This time it went in. The goal was unmanned, but still—it was a hell of an improvement. The kid was definitely a fast learner.

Practice continued, and after a while, Dewey and Grady started a light passing drill with Claire and David while Kelleher and I watched.

“Man, you need to bring your stepkids by more often.” Kelleher clapped my shoulder. “They’re fun!”

I chuckled. “They sure keep your dumb ass on your toes.”

“Hey. Eat a dick, Crows.” He flipped me off.

From the bench, someone cleared his throat, and we turned. Kelleher immediately put his hand behind his back and blushed. “Uh. Sorry.”

Geoff tried to look stern, but it didn’t work. Not even with his arms folded across his police uniform. After a couple of beats, he broke into a laugh and shook his head. “Well, at least now I know where they’re getting it.”

“Oh whatever.” I skated up to the boards. “They’re teenagers. Even a hockey team isn’t enough to be a bad influence on—”

“You motherfucker!” Claire’s shout cut me off. “That was some bullshit, Dewey!”

Geoff shot me a look.

I cleared my throat. “Um.”

But he just laughed, reached for my jersey, and tugged me in for a quick kiss.

“When did you get here?” I asked.

“Few minutes ago. In time to see my kid score a goal.”

I grinned, glancing over my shoulder. “She’s getting good at this.”

“They both are.” He beamed. “Not that I’m surprised.” Geoff folded his arms on the rail, for a while, we just watched the kids and players doing their passing drills.

There were days when it was still hard to believe things had worked out this way. That Geoff and I had found our footing and made things work despite our exes and our schedules, but here we were. Even now I kept expecting the “everything is so easy” feeling to go away and for this to actually become work. I mean, it was work in a way—all relationships were. It just wasn’t the kind of work that felt like beating my head against a wall. Life with Geoff was quiet, boring, and I couldn’t think of a single thing I’d have changed.

The past still existed, though. Nathan had, as expected, been released early on good behavior, but I heard through a mutual friend that he had moved to Portland, probably so he could work for his parents. I imagined they were the only ones left who’d hire him with a felony assault and battery charge on his record.

Marcus had more or less disappeared into the woodwork. All that remained of either of them was the damage they’d left behind, and all of us—me, Geoff, and both kids—were keeping a very patient counselor very busy as we sorted through the past, present, and future. Sometimes, especially when the four of us had a joint counseling session or I was cooking for them while Geoff worked a late shift, it almost felt like we were a real family. Which was kind of weird, considering I wasn’t that much older than the kids, but there were times I really did think of them as my stepkids. I just very carefully didn’t say that out loud. They weren’t my kids, and I didn’t want to overstep my bounds with Geoff.

Except…my team called them my stepkids, and as I stood there with Geoff and watched them skate, I realized he’d been right there when Kelleher had called them that.