Power Play: A Second Chance Hockey Romance (Sinners on the Ice)
Power Play: A Second Chance Hockey Romance: Chapter 4

Now, August

“You really did that all by yourself?” I ask, staring down at a Ferrari Daytona built from LEGOs.

“Yeah,” Michael says proudly. He carefully lifts the car and extends it to me. “Mom was roasting me for always asking for help, telling me that I was lazy.” He meets my gaze and smiles shyly. “One day I decided to try to actually do it myself. Apparently, it was way easier than I thought, and I loved building it. Thank you so much for the gift.”

“Don’t even mention it.” I ruffle his hair with my hand and then slowly put the car on the table. “What about hockey? Do you like it?”

He nods enthusiastically as I sit on the edge of the table. “I love being on the ice. It’s like time stops, and I feel like I can do anything.” His lips break into a lopsided grin. “Coach says I have talent.”

I chuckle. “You definitely do. Your dad sent me a few videos from your practices, and you look impressive out there, man. I’m proud of you.”

Red taints his cheeks, and Michael smiles. “I wanted to ask…is there a chance you can come to practice one day? To talk to the guys and maybe play with us?” He traces his index finger over the table, his ears reddening a little as he lowers his gaze. “Dad, Drake, and Roman already came to a few, so I thought…maybe you…”

“Michael.” I put my hand on his shoulder, and he meets my gaze. “Of course. I’d love to. We’ll see how many pucks you can send past me.”

A megawatt smile forms on his lips. “Thank you, Clay. You’re the best!”

I ask him about his team and what his favorite plays are. The way Michael talks about the game makes it clear to me that being on the ice brings him joy. Sometimes it’s hard to tell if it’s a kid’s desire to play, or if it’s all about their parents’ egos and their missed opportunities. With how many times I saw fathers bring their sons to practice, hoping to fulfill their own dreams through their kids, I know it rarely ends well. So it makes me happy to see how Michael’s eyes are sparkling, how eager he is to tell me about all the goals he scored, how much determination he has to be better next season.

He is his father’s son for real.

The doorbell rings, and everything in me stills. My head snaps toward the door, and I stare at it in silence. It could easily be Roman, or maybe Xander and Bella with their kids, Isla and Ian. Why am I reacting like this?

Michael notices my bewildered look, and instead of asking me what’s wrong, he suggests we go meet the guests. This six-year-old is way more observant than I give him credit for.

“Let’s go see who’s there. Maybe it’s your best friend.” I follow him out of the room, glancing at him as we start descending the stairs. “Is Isla still your best friend?”

“Yeah, she’s really cool. Our moms are friends, so we spend a lot of time together.”

“Is she into sports too? I honestly don’t remember if I ever heard her talking about anything sports-related when it’s not about her dad.”

“Ice-skating.” Michael smiles. “She’s so fast, Clay. You need to see her on the ice. You’ll be surprised. A boy from my team lost a bet and was in charge of collecting pucks for a whole month.”

“What was the bet about?” I ask, trying to distract myself from the voices coming from downstairs.

“Cade said he was faster than Isla.” The smile on his face tells me everything I need to know.

“He wasn’t,” I state, and Michael nods. “Are you faster than her?”

Michael hides his hands in his pockets and lifts his shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t want to compete with her. She’s my friend.”

“And that, buddy, was the right answer.” I pat him on the back as we stop in the hallway.

My eyes instantly lock on Benson as he’s the only one who’s still standing by the door. The excited voices are coming from the living room. Drake stares at me warily, then his bearded face lights up with a broad smile. “Hey, Clay. I didn’t know you were here already.”

I walk up to him, and we hug briefly. “I came a little early. Wanted to spend some time with Michael. I needed to catch up with this little fella.”

“Hi, Drake.” Michael fist-bumps my friend. “I’ll go ask Mom if she needs me, or if I can stay in my room till Isla comes.” He smiles and then leaves us alone.

“How are you?” Drake asks. “How is Santa Clara treating you? Do you like it here?”

“I’m good. Moved, got settled in. Even met my neighbor today. It’s all working out. You? How was France?” I say, then hastily add, “Oh, and, man, congratulations on your engagement! I can’t fucking wait for your wedding.”

“Thanks.” Drake smiles brightly. “I’m also going to be a dad, so…”

“Look at you, Benson!” I haul him to me for a hug. “I’m so happy for you. Today is full of surprises, and I haven’t even had a single drink yet.”

“Wait till you see Roman. That dude has news that will blow Thompson’s mind. I almost lost mine.” He laughs, becoming serious in an instant. “Um, Clay⁠—”

“Drake?” A woman’s voice makes him pause, and we both turn our heads to the doorframe. “Oh, hey, Clay,” Angie greets me warmly. “It’s so nice to see you.”

“You too,” I say as she steps into the hallway and kisses me on the cheek. Her tiny baby bump is hard not to notice. “Congratulations on your big news. I was just telling your fiancé how happy I am for both of you.”

“Thank you, Clay.” Angie smiles, entwining her fingers with Drake’s. Her gaze dances between us, and she smirks. “Is it some rule on the team? Only guys with beards are allowed to join?”

Drake and I exchange a look. I can see why she made the assumption. Thompson, Benson, and I have beards, but it’s a coincidence.

“Nah, Cupcake, it’s not a requirement. Besides, haven’t you seen Roman? The guy is always clean-shaven.”

She shakes her head. “Whatever you say. Should we go in? Colton said he needs some help outside, and the girls are going to the kitchen. Ava still has some chicken in the oven.”

“Well, in that case, we better go and help.” I veer to my right, ready to go to the backyard, when a child’s voice halts me in my tracks.

“Uncle Drake, I want with you.” Slowly, I turn my head, and my eyes fall on a little girl in a navy-blue dress standing in the doorway of the living room. I’ve seen her before, sitting on her mom’s lap during games, but never this close.

And now I have no words…

She’s just like Layla. The same big, chocolate brown eyes and little upturned nose, even her heart-shaped mouth with the puffier bottom lip. Her brown hair is collected into two pigtails sitting proudly on top of her head. My heart constricts as I watch her walk up to Drake and raise her arms. Without hesitation, he picks her up, and her tiny palm rests on his chest.

I swallow my initial shock as her gaze focuses on me. My lips stretch into a small, involuntary smile. It’s definitely not how I imagined meeting Layla’s daughter for the first time, but if this is what I get to work with, then so be it.

“Maya, honey, this is Clay,” Angie says, pointing her finger at me. “He’s your uncle’s friend.”

Maya’s eyes roam over my face, and then she says, “Hi.”

“Hi, Maya. I’m so delighted to meet you. I’ve heard so many things about you from your uncle Drake.”

A little beam forms on her mouth. Two tiny dimples appear on her cheeks. Her mother’s daughter through and through. The overwhelming emotions brew inside me, making my heart beat a mile a minute.

Maya puts her head on Drake’s shoulder. Curiosity swims behind her irises. Her gaze stays trained on me, and I’m unable to take even one step forward. “Do you want to go outside? Or stay with Angie?” I ask.

“With Uncle Drake.”

I chuckle. “Then let’s go. See you later, Angie.”

Whirling around, I’m ready to go to the backyard, but the person standing in the doorway makes me freeze. My eyes collide with hers, and a rush of energy spreads through my veins. She’s in a light blue dress that ends below her knees, and there’s a bow wrapped tightly around her waist. Her shoulder-length blond hair is pinned to one side with a little hairpin. Her makeup is impeccable, just a touch on her eyes and lips. Jesus, I knew I missed her, but this? The storm inside my chest grows stronger, more powerful and destabilizing. All I want is a chance. A chance to talk to her, to ask her the question that’s been burning my tongue since the day I found out about her daughter.

Why didn’t she keep her promise?

“Hi, Layla,” I croak, my voice unnaturally hoarse.

“Hey, Clay.” She lifts her hand in a stiff wave, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

The silence that follows is suffocating. It reminds me of that time I got a concussion during a high school game when a puck slammed right into my face. Darkness starts surrounding me quickly, like waves crashing over the shore. Everything is spinning, and I ball my fists, trying to control my reaction.

“Clay, is everything all right?” Angie’s voice tears me out of my stupor. I blink and realize that Layla’s staring at my hands.

What the hell am I doing?

“Sorry, it’s nothing.” I glance at Drake. “Should we go outside?”

He studies me with his lips pursed. Then he nods and crooks a smile. “Yeah, let’s go. I’m sure Thompson needs our help.”

I shoot Angie a tiny grin and turn to peer at Layla. Her arms are crossed over her chest, her eyebrows pinched together. Her bottom lip moves; she’s probably chewing on the inside of her cheek. With the briefest shake of her head as if she’s dismissing something, she looks away from me and stares at her brother.

“Are you taking Maya with you?”

“She said she wants to,” Drake answers. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after her.”

“Okay, thank you,” Layla tells him. “Come on, Angie. Ava needs us so she can finish cooking. Meghan is glued to her hip. Literally,” she adds, acting as if I’m no longer in the hallway.

“Coming.” Angie kisses Drake on the cheek, gently brushes Maya’s cheek with her fingertips, then heads to the living room, following Layla.

Who still refuses to look at me.

Dammit.

Without waiting for Drake, I trudge out of the house and instantly see Colton. He’s setting a table on the terrace with five chairs placed around it. Noticing me, he tilts his head to the right, where more chairs are standing, and I head over. Turning off my emotions and all the thoughts that keep swarming in my head is the only thing I can do to distract myself from that disastrous meeting.

Why was it so awkward? It never used to be like that. Not even at Thompson’s wedding, when we first saw each other after she broke up with me. We always made it work, but now it feels as if we lost that ability.

Is it temporary? Or is our connection broken beyond repair after the last time we saw each other three years ago?

I call bullshit. What we had is impossible to destroy. I will never let it happen.