“I like that idea.” The skeptic in me wondered what his angle was. Throughout my life, the people who were supposed to love me used me for their own selfish gain. I hadn’t gone to college because Mark had asked me to wait until the kids were in school. I hadn’t paid attention to finances because Mark insisted on taking care of everything. I hadn’t done anything for me because of an underlying belief I wasn’t good enough.
I refused to play the victim though. I’d learned my lessons. This time no one would manipulate me or guilt me into doing things that didn’t benefit my life or my children’s lives, even if that person was Easton.
“Good,” he said with his easygoing grin. “I know you’ll be more comfortable with something in writing. I’m fine with winging it, but that’s not how you like to do things.”
After all these years, Easton still knew me too well. I’d been a dot-the-i’s-and-cross-the-t’s kind of person, controlling any aspect of my life I’d been able to control by being super-organized. I was still like that. Hell, I’d color-coded and labelled every box and item so my moving crew would know exactly where it went. If that wasn’t over-organized, I didn’t know what was.
Easton stepped closer to me until I felt the heat from his body. I didn’t move. My feet were anchored to the floor. We didn’t touch, but my body reacted as if we had. Every nerve ending was supercharged and hyperaware of the sexy man standing merely inches away. If there hadn’t been people nearby, I’d have jumped him, ripped off his clothes, and fucked his gorgeous brains out, despite my vows not to do so. My gaze dropped to his jeans and the telltale bulge pressing against his fly. He wanted me, too. No doubt about that. Slowly, I ran my gaze up his body, not caring that I was caught admiring him. He’d had an amazing physique as a teenager. I couldn’t imagine what he’d look like naked now. Okay, I lied. I did imagine what he looked like every single night when I lay in bed. I did pleasure myself to thoughts of him, rather than Mark. The disloyalty of such acts wasn’t lost on me, but Mark wasn’t here, and he was never coming back.
“Caro?” Easton’s deep voice pulled my attention away from his broad chest and my guilty thoughts. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said tightly.
“We’ll make this work, Caro.” Easton lowered his voice so only I could hear, not that anyone was paying attention to us.
Make what work? Was he referring to co-parenting or something more?
Easton point of view
Thanksgiving came and went. I had a fantasy Caro and me and the kids would have our first Thanksgiving together. We did not. I went to Coop and Izzy’s instead, while Caro insisted on a private Thanksgiving as it was the twins’ first major holiday without Mark.
I wasn’t happy about her decision, but I wasn’t in a position to do much about it either. In some ways, I had to admit she was right, but from a personal point of view, I guess I was butt-hurt at being excluded from their holiday. Christmas would not happen like this.
The Sockeyes played home games both the day before and day after Thanksgiving. I was pretty busy, and despite their proximity to my doorway—about fifteen feet—I didn’t see much of Caro and Co. until the following week. They also needed time to pack and settle in. Even though I was itching to start what I considered my new life as a father, I backed off, giving them the necessary space.
The following Monday, Caro and I sat at the shiny black dining room table in her new condo and hashed out the details of a temporary agreement. Tomorrow I left on a four-day road trip.
Caro made notes in the margins of the paperwork, and I craned my neck to read what she’d written. She caught me in the act, and I looked away, ashamed of myself for reading her personal notes.
The sooner we had this agreement done, the better. I’d legally have rights to see my kids. Caro had agreed to allow me to see the twins whenever I was available as long as I prearranged the visitations. She insisted she be present, and I didn’t mind for more selfish reasons than the well-being of my kids.
She was getting to me despite my hands-off oath, an oath I was beginning to question.
Every time I was near her, my heart raced and my body hummed. When she was gone, something was missing, and I felt empty. Hockey was the only thing that quelled the emptiness, and I was beginning to wonder if hockey had been doing that very thing for longer than I cared to admit. The breakup from my college girlfriend hadn’t bothered me as much was it did when I hadn’t seen Caro for a day or two. I was getting in deeper and deeper.
Our chemistry had survived the years and the secrets. When I wasn’t with her or playing hockey, my thoughts centered on her and my children. Despite my intentions, I was confused and conflicted as to where Caro should fit into my life. Should she fit? Did I want her to fit? At times I did, and at others, I wanted to escape to my Puck Brother existence and pretend she wasn’t anyone special, which made me either smart or delusional.
“Easton?” Caro nudged me to get my attention. “Does this work for you?”
I squinted and tried to recall what she’d said. Oh, yeah, I remembered. She wanted a specific schedule. “Nope, not during hockey season. I’m not budging on this topic.”
As much as she wanted to nail down everything to specific dates and times, I refused to waver on keeping it loose during the hockey season.
She sighed. She hated backing down as much as I did. “Fine. We’ll revisit everything once the season ends, and we’ve had time to evaluate how it’s going.”
“Sounds good.”
Holy hockey pucks, she smelled incredible, but then she always smelled like a fresh field of wildflowers in the spring sunshine. If I didn’t watch it, I’d be spouting fucking poetry.
“Easton? You’re doing it again. Pay attention. You’re worse than your son.”
That brought a grin to my face, and Caro rolled her eyes.
“Sorry.” I tried to sound contrite but didn’t pull it off.
“Is that all?”
I pulled my head out of my ass and brought up the biggest elephant in the room. “Uh, no, on the matter of when to reveal I’m their father…” I hesitated. This would be one of the trickiest subjects to broach.
“They need more time. Their father’s death is still fresh in their minds. Such a revelation would be too big of a shock to them this soon.”
“And when will it ever be a good time?” I leaned across the table and stared pointedly at her. I read the answer in her eyes. It’d never be a good time.
“I’ll play it your way for a while, but I’m not going to wait forever.”
“Thank you,” she conceded.
“Has it occurred to you the longer we wait, the worse it might be for them?”
She met my gaze, and I saw the worry in her blue eyes. “Yes, it’s definitely occurred to me.”
I didn’t belabor the point. She felt bad enough about the situation. For now, I’d content myself with being the doting next-door neighbor.
“About the child support—” I pushed a check across the table to her. “My attorney felt this amount was reasonable and fair.”
She picked it up, and her mouth dropped open in shock. Incredulously, she lifted her gaze back to mine and shook her head. “This is too much.”
“I don’t think it’s enough,” I countered.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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