his head toward the crowd. “Guess I’d better go be the face of the Glaciers then.”
Henrik lifted his glass in mock salute. “Wow them with your charm, because your beauty won’t do it.”
“Fuck you.”
“Anytime. I keep telling you that.”
Hauke walked away, people stepping aside to let him pass. Commanding, he carried his role and experience with a natural casualness Henrik had never mastered. He could fake it with the best of them, but he was always aware of exactly how much it choked him.
The tickling vibration of his phone on his ribs yanked him out of his unwanted self-musings. He slid the phone out of his inner pocket, grin forming when he saw the text was from Jacqui.
Me neither. But at least you get to drink.
His rough snort jerked through his shoulders. The soda water’s a poor replacement for you.
He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and headed for the exit. It didn’t matter who was approaching him, the only conversation he wanted to have right now was with Jacqui. He stepped into the freedom of the hallway, the air only slightly less stifling.
Charming even over text.
I try.
Good luck on the road.
That got a small smile. Thanks.
He waited for something more, but the conversation had come to an obvious end. No mention of another date or what, a fuck? He cringed at the word. It didn’t sound right with—for—her. Jacqui hadn’t been a fuck, even if it only ended up being the one time.
A glance back into the room showed his teammates mingling and laughing. That was his family. Better than his own in so many ways. Not all the guys were his best buds. The occasional scorn or not-so-joking remarks about his behavior were a good clue to that. But none of that mattered on the ice. Out there, they worked as a single unit.
Teamwork. Brotherhood. Comradery—that was why he played hockey. They were his family.
And right now he wanted none of it.
He turned his back, heading for the valet stand, not caring about the monetary fine management would slap on him for leaving early. It wouldn’t be his first, but usually it was caused by a woman’s demands, not his own.
Chapter Ten
“Grenick cuts off the pass, knocking it up to Conners, who takes a hard check into the boards from Dennison.”
A series of mixed groans and cheers blasted from the family room to drown out the sportscasters along with a curse.
“Daniel.” The sharp reprimand from her mother identified the culprit.
“Mom,” her brother groaned.
“Your daughter’s in the next room.”
Jacqui looked up from the book she was trying to study to catch the impish smile on her three-year-old niece’s face. The little devil shook her head, dark curls bouncing around her cheeks before she pressed a finger over her lips.
“Bad words aren’t nice,” Lanie said, completely serious.
“You’re right.” Jacqui bit her lips to trap her smile. “Your daddy shouldn’t say things like that.”
The little girl wrinkled her nose. “He forgets.”
Jacqui’s chuckle burst free before she could stop it this time. “Yeah.” She faked a stern expression. “But you know better, right?”
Lanie heaved a sigh that only a child could get away with, her full exasperation communicated in a look. “Yes, Aunt Jacqui.”
She leaned across the dining table to tap her niece on her pert little nose. “Imp.”
“What’s that?”
She shook her head, chuckling. Had she been like that as a kid? “A troublemaker.” Maybe before the cancer. After the first round, she’d pretty much retreated into her music. The piano never asked if she was doing okay or feeling sick or tired.
Lanie shook her head, mouth puckering between round cheeks. “I’m not trouble. That’s Uncle Aiden.”
Jacqui’s laugh was full and loud. God, it felt good to laugh.
“Froehlich has it along the boards.” The distinctive sound of a body crashing into the Plexiglas broke over the sportscaster. “He took a hard check from Grenick, who—” Another cheer from the family room had Jacqui straining to hear the rest, but it was pointless.
“Why don’t you watch?”
She snapped her head around, chair almost toppling from its precarious two-leg balance as she’d unsuccessfully stretched to see the TV in the other room. Crap. “Because I don’t care about the game.”
“Then why do you keep trying to see it?” Lanie’s squished-up brow was too cute for the observant little devil.
Why indeed? Her skin flushed warm as thoughts of Henrik rushed in to mock her denial. Well, she didn’t care about the game. Maybe a player...