Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
An overwhelming urge goads me to walk there, to get this conversation over with so I know where Emery and I stand, and yet my feet are stuck to the earth beneath me. For all the times in my life that I’ve run across that field as a boy, eager to see her, to share news, to touch her … now I don’t have the stones to take a single step forward.
When she’s ready to face me, she’ll come around.
With one last lingering look, I reluctantly head inside.
Chapter 6
Emery
Vehicles clutter the driveway next door as I roll up my own. When Annie told me about Logan’s Welcome Home party, I suggested waiting a few weeks to let him get settled. But Annie, normally a rational woman, was too excited to see reason.
I hope it doesn’t backfire on her.
Isla just arrived home and is heaving her hockey bag out of Dillon’s sedan, bowing under the weight of it. Dillon leans against his driver-side door, arms folded across his chest. Donna is nowhere to be seen, which is usually par for the course. She makes her best effort to not cross paths with me, and I appreciate her for it. Forced pleasantries have never been my strong suit.
I park and climb out, desperate to shed my uniform and take a shower. “Tough game?” They lost 2–1 according to the alerts that popped up on my phone.
Isla rolls her eyes at me and then marches up the steps, her hair bound in a tight braid and matted from her helmet.
“We’re not finished our conversation!” Dillon hollers, but she ignores him, dropping her equipment on the porch, unzipping the bag, and disappearing into the house. A moment later, the lights flash on.
“At least she hasn’t left us in the dark,” Dillon notes as Duke barks once.
I take a deep, calming breath—as I always do when I’m in the same vicinity as my ex-husband. “What’s that about?” It wouldn’t be the first time Isla’s in a huff when her father drops her off. He likes to spend the long drive home highlighting all the mistakes she made on the ice. I don’t blame her for getting irritated. The kid can skate circles around him.
“She took a stupid penalty, and it cost them the game.”
My body sinks with dismay. It’s a new team and the season’s just started. “For what?”
“Roughing.”
“Did she deserve it?”
He shrugs. “They didn’t need to call it.”
That’s his standard answer unless the roles are reversed and it’s his child pasted against the boards. “And her victim?”
“She was back on in the third. Laid it on thick if you ask me. Her parents were shouting for a suspension.”
I shake my head. People underestimate how physical girls’ hockey can get at this level. “She keeps it up and maybe she’ll get one soon enough.” Isla is usually good for a penalty every game.
“That’ll make it easier on me ’cause all this driving can’t be on our shoulders. Donna and I have Tanner’s schedule to think about too,” he throws back without missing a beat.
I inhale sharply. He may as well have called me a deadbeat parent. “Remember last year when you insisted we reach out to North Bay, and I said it was going to be a challenge?” Her home ice rink is now almost two hours away, which means a four-hour commute twice a week for practice, plus out-of-town games as far south as the outskirts of Toronto.
Dillon turns to face me, his hands on his hips. He’s always had a clean-cut, boyish look to him. Even at thirty-nine years old, he hasn’t changed much from the version I made a huge mistake with—twice. “I want our daughter to have the best opportunities available, which she can’t get around here. I thought you would want the same,” he says in that overly calm, condescending tone.
My teeth grind as I resist the urge to yell. “I can’t run a police detachment around my daughter’s hockey schedule.” I have no spouse to share the burden with, and my parents are gone.
“Yeah, run the detachment. Not sub in for your platoon sergeant’s weekend shifts. And you’re not the only one with an important job around here, Em. I’m the damn mayor! On top of owning the busiest grocery store!”
“Believe me, I know exactly who you are.” Besides a cheater and compulsive liar. And his parents own the store. “Neither of my two relief officers could cover it, so what else was I supposed to do? I’m trying to protect everyone on the shoestring budget you gave me.”
“For fuck’s sake.” He tips his head back with a dramatic groan. We’ve had this fight too many times. “I’m not out to get you. The council votes on the budget. It’s a team effort. What am I supposed to do? Tax residents more? If we don’t have the money, we don’t have the money. You have to manage accordingly. That’s part of the job.” He shrugs. “You’re dealing all right, aren’t you?”