Chapter 9

 

 

Gage

 

 

I stretched my legs out in front of me as game tape rolled on the projection screen ahead of us. We were only a few days away from our showdown with Ontario, and Coach was killing us on these things.

“You know, this would be more fun at your house with a few beers,” Warren whispered from next to me.

“I second that motion. I say we follow through after this,” Rory chimed in.

“No can do,” I said, checking my phone for the time. It was already four-thirty. My girls were going to have my head if we ran much later. My girls. God, I loved the sound of that—loved the feeling of being a unit, a family. Most girls would have flipped their shit if we were halfway to my bedroom and she got cockblocked by Lettie. Instead, Bailey had gotten right down to taking care of my baby, and damn if that didn’t make my insides ridiculously tight just thinking about it.

“Got a hot date?” Rory asked.

“If you’re referring to my three-year-old as a hot date,” I answered.

“That’s it for tonight, Gentlemen,” Coach called off, shutting off the TV.

“Speaking of three-year-olds, what time is her party on Saturday?” Warren asked.

“It’s at one o’clock, and if you assholes are late I’m going to let her put you in princess dresses the entire party.” I leveled them with a glare. “Ask me if I’m kidding.”

“One o’clock. Got it,” Rory saluted me

“McPherson, can I have a word?” Coach asked.

Fuck me, Bailey is going to kill me. “Absolutely,” I answered. “Catch you dumbasses later,” I said to the guys and headed over to where Coach stood in the doorway to his office. “What’s up?”

“How are you feeling about Saturday?” He asked.

My stomach turned over. “If you’re asking about my shoulder, I’m fine. It’s been fine. It will continue to be fine.”

“It’s not about the shoulder.”

Was he going to bench me? Let the rookie start? Hell no, I’d been playing my ass off. “Look, if you’re thinking of taking me off starter—”

He shook his head and clasped my shoulder. “It’s not about that, son. You’ve come back strong, maybe even stronger than you were before the accident. My concern is Adkins.”

“I can handle him.”

“I know you can, but we both know he’s an aggressive son of a bitch, and...well, I was here when Helen left. I know what it did to you...and to little Scarlett. I just need to know that your head is in the game, and not on everything else. No one would blame you if it wasn’t.”

I couldn’t be pissed. Coach was one of the few people I’d let see me after Helen left. He’d witnessed my deterioration first-hand. “I’ll be okay. I promise. Timing is shit with Lettie’s birthday, but it’s not like Helen is going to try anything. She hasn’t so much as talked to Lettie since she walked out a year ago. I’m keeping this on the ice, period.”

He looked into my eyes for a minute, searching for something, and then nodded. “Okay, then. I’ll see you on Saturday? What’s she into these days.”

“The Sound of Music,” I answered.

“Huh,” Coach’s eyes widened. “Not sure what to get her for that.”

“Yeah, sometimes I wish she’d just get into the Frozen stuff like every other little girl, but Lettie isn’t every other little girl.”

He clapped my back. “No, she’s not. Speaking of which, you’d better get home.”

“Yes, sir, I’m sure she’s chomping at the bit.”

I broke the speed limit driving home and made it home ten minutes faster than usual. The sun still hadn’t set, which meant I might be forgiven for not being home an hour ago. I parked in the garage and was running through the kitchen door before the garage door shut all the way.

“I’m home!” I called out.

“Daddy!” Lettie came sprinting in from the living room, dressed in the cutest little Austrian outfit I’d ever seen, complete with puffy sleeves and some kind of patterned overall dress. Her hair was done up in a crown of braids, and her eyes were lit with the kind of excitement that only Halloween could bring.

“Look how beautiful you are!” I said, scooping her up into my arms. “What a pretty dress.”

“It’s a dirndl! Bailey made it for me!”

“Well, it’s almost as pretty as you are,” I promised.

“You’re late,” she said, her eyes deeply stern.

“I know, Greta,” I said just as solemnly.

“I’m Gretl!” She corrected, her nose crinkling in laughter.

“You’re late!” Bailey called from down the hall.

“Uh-oh,” I whispered in conspiracy. “I’d better go before Bailey gets mad.”

“You’d better! We have to go soon!” Her little hands were on her hips, and she gave me the same exact look Bailey did when she was feeling stubborn. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay, okay.” I kissed her nose and walked down the hall.

“Here,” Bailey said, thrusting a garment bag at me. “And hurry up!”

“Wait,” I said, seeing her full-length black dress with the striped apron that Maria had worn in The Sound of Music. “What about the other dresses she wears? The flowy sexy ones?”

She arched an eyebrow at me. Yup, that’s exactly where Lettie had gotten it from. “This is iconic. Now go!”

I raced upstairs and threw on the costume as quickly as possible as the doorbell rang. Shit. Trick-or-treaters were already out, which meant Lettie was about five minutes away from barging in and demanding her turn. This was the first year she was really old enough to understand the insanity of Halloween, and she was all about it. I couldn't wait to see how fun Christmas was going to be with her this year—decorating the tree, building gingerbread houses, baking with Bailey—

I stopped myself mid-button on the green, emblazoned blazer that looked like an exact match for Captain Von Trapp. I wasn’t just picturing tonight with Bailey, or tomorrow, or this weekend. I was picturing Christmas. Seeing major life events playing out with her and Lettie.