Mind Pucked (Chicago Blue Jays #1)

2. Jackson

2

JACKSON

I look Amelia up and down, examining her in more ways than one.

She’s young, but how young I can’t quite put a finger on. She just has one of those faces. A face that could belong to a teenager or a thirty-year-old. And she has a great body.

If I was interviewing for a girlfriend or one-night stand, she’d be perfect.

The problem is, I’m looking for a nanny for Hayden. The only reason I haven’t completely turned Amelia away at this point is because of her resume and because of Quinn.

Quinn made a big deal about me hiring this girl. Apparently, they have seats next to each other at the games. And every time, Amelia helps Quinn with all the kids, including Hayden. Quinn even mentioned that Hayden laughs with her and will hold her hand on occasion. It’s not much, but for Hayden, it’s everything.

I don’t know what kind of trauma a one-year-old can hold. I don’t know how memory actually works for such a young child. But there must be something there, because Hayden has not let any woman get close to her since my wife’s death. Even though she can’t remember her face or anything specific, somewhere in there, Hayden must remember her mother.

It’s been killing me, because on the one hand, I absolutely want to preserve my wife’s memory, but on the other hand, I need to know Hayden is cared for and safe when I’m not home. And if she can’t bond with a nanny…well, that makes it impossible to feel like she’ll be okay.

But this Amelia, some superfan who’s been getting to know Quinn over three hockey games, has come in and proven that Hayden still has something in there. That someone other than me can pull some kind of socialization out of her.

Amelia is way too pretty for this job. She has me thinking dirty thoughts, thoughts that I don’t usually think much anymore. Losing Lyla, it did something to me. It broke something inside of me. I don’t usually feel anything for women anymore. Maybe I’m a bit like Hayden that way.

Amelia is perfect on paper too. She has years of experience caring for children. Babysitting for money throughout college. An au pair job. Two science degrees in education and child psychology. In fact, she’s overqualified.

Quinn and the resume both mention that she’s fresh out of college and looking for a job to get her through getting her certifications. Call me selfish, but part of me worries that if I hire her, I won’t be able to keep her. And if my daughter bonds with her, there’s no letting her go.

So I’m wary about this.

Mostly, I’m worried about the fact that she’ll be around my teammates. There’s no keeping her away from them, considering I want my daughter right there with me in the action. Like always. Hayden’s never going to grow up and wonder why I wasn’t around. She’ll be a part of my life, even if my life is busy and different.

But Amelia, she’s the kind of woman the hockey players will chase. I’ve already had problems with that.

Vaughn, even though he’s married, slept with my last nanny. That’s why I had to fire her. The drama was hashed out in the locker room one day, and Coach gave me all kinds of shit for it too. Said that my nanny was completely unprofessional. Hayden was crying by the end of it.

I don’t know why, but Vaughn’s wife stayed with him after that, only to then be paranoid all the time, asking all of us on the team whether he’s being faithful and to watch him for her. Since then, he’s been as faithful as he gets, looking but never touching. Though, I think the incident ruined their marriage forever.

Sometimes, I feel responsible for it. Like I should have interviewed my nanny more thoroughly or watched her more carefully. But how was I to know she’d jump into bed with a married hockey player?

I sent her packing. She and Hayden barely got along anyway. I don’t know how someone can’t get along with a three-year-old, but I guess it happens.

And Amelia is twenty times more gorgeous than she was. How am I going to keep the wolves off of her?

And what if she’s the type to do the chasing?

I just need to ask the right questions.

“So, what made you decide to travel to London to be an au pair? And how do I know you plan on staying in the States now?” I ask. I know my tone is harsh, but if she scares easily, she’s not going to be a good fit. I want a nanny that can handle anything and everything that could come up. I’m not taking any chances with Hayden.

She sits up straight, her perky little breasts sticking out and making me have to cross my legs to the side. I’m glad I’m not wearing sweatpants.

Her nose wrinkles up as she moves, accentuating the freckles all over her face, adding to that youthful look of hers. But she talks like she’s a sophisticated adult. “Well, I actually went through something really tough. My parents had these friends who travel a lot for work, and they were leaving the country. They have twins. Very young. They just couldn’t imagine trying to settle into the new place without the help. It was a good thing for me, a great job and a great experience…getting to see the world at my age. But it was also time for me to grieve, and process what I was going through.”

I narrow my eyes at her. Is this girl for real? It’s like she has the perfect answers. Did she prepare in the mirror or something?

“So, you don’t plan on leaving the country again anytime soon?”

She shakes her head, her wavy brown hair moving with it. “Absolutely not. I’m back for the long haul and looking forward to getting my life back together again. I feel like I’ve had a lot of time to think and heal. It was a great experience. But I definitely prefer being home.” She grins, and I have to clear my throat.

“I have to say, your resume is impressive. Very impressive. I would think you’d want more than just a nanny job.”

She purses her lips at me. For a moment, I think she might challenge me on the fact that I didn’t actually ask a question.

But then she takes a deep breath and places her hands on her knees. “I think that’s fair. Of course, I want to work in my field, but I have a couple of choices ahead of me about what I could do. And either way, it’s a long road to get there. I need to be able to pay the bills, of course. Plus, I love working with kids. I don’t really care in what capacity at the moment. There’s plenty of time to further my career. I’m only in my twenties, after all.” She shrugs.

I nod, glad to have at least some idea of how old she is. College graduate, over a year abroad, she’s probably twenty-three to twenty-five.

“There’s something you should know. My daughter—she’s only four, but she’s been through a lot in her life. I don’t know how much Quinn has told you but?—”

She stops me, and I try to contain my anger at her interrupting me. The thing is, she does seem professional, just with a strong personality. Exactly the kind of personality I would normally want protecting my daughter.

So, I need to chill. If she can stand up to me, then she can stand up to anyone.

“I’m aware of the tragedy your daughter has faced. And I’m so sorry to hear about it. However, if you take a look at my resume, you’ll see that I did major in educational psychology. It’s not like I’m some kind of therapist, but I do feel fully prepared to handle her ups and downs and any mood swings. And I understand grief. I won’t get offended if she’s not overly affectionate.”

I lean forward, my elbows on my thighs. I don’t want to like her. She’s too pretty—the kind of pretty that could get me in trouble. But she’s being professional. This is exactly what I need, and Quinn’s brought it to me. I technically have no real reason not to hire her. And this is about Hayden, not me.

I have to trust in my own willpower. It’s only been two years—two years and a couple weeks, to be exact—since the loss of my wife. It’s not the time for me to get involved in anything, especially when Hayden clearly hasn’t healed.

“Part of the job means bringing Hayden to events. Hockey games, parties, and sometimes even other professional events. You’ll have to maintain a level of professionalism. I’ve had trouble with that in the past. Would you give me any trouble with that?”

She squints one eye, as if she’s trying to figure out what I mean by being unprofessional. It’s one of the cutest faces I’ve ever seen. Shit. This is a problem.

“Well, as you can see, I did go abroad by myself following college, and I was an au pair. I’m happy to give you the phone number for a direct reference. I went to a private college. You don’t really get through those without a level of professionalism. And I would be totally fine going to events. I love hockey, and I’m very serious about caring for children. There would be no issue.”

I can’t help but grin. I believe what she says. Amelia really is the perfect fit. Every question I continue to ask her, even right down to questions about boyfriends and what she would do if one of the players hits on her, she simply points back to her qualifications and her professionalism in her work and school. There isn’t a single hint that there would ever be an issue. In fact, she seems offended by the idea.

On paper, Amelia is the best thing for Hayden. How can I possibly turn that down?

I can’t. It’s that simple. Of course I’m going to hire her. But I need to make it appear real.

I stand up and hold out my hand to shake hers. “Thank you for this, Amelia. It’s been very eye-opening. I have a couple more interviews to do, but I’m very interested. Can I contact you using the number on the resume?”

She leans over, almost too close, and I can smell lavender and vanilla on her. She places her finger on the number at the top of the page. “Silly me. This was my number while I was in London. I have a new one now, but you should already have that from when you called me to set up the interview. You still have it?” she asks, biting her bottom lip.

It’s like she’s being sensual and doesn’t even know it.

“Yes, I have it.” I back away from her, half sprinting toward the door to open it and get her out of here. Luckily, we won’t be alone in such close quarters most of the time. She’ll just be caring for Hayden.

“I’ll give you a call, then.”

She meets me at the door and blinks as if in a daze. I feel a bit bad for the way I’m treating her, but I just can’t have her here screwing with my mind right now.

“Thanks. I hope you have a nice day.”

She walks out the door but then peeks her head back inside for a moment. She finds Hayden with her eyes and makes a point to say goodbye to her too. “You have a good day too, Hayden.”

And Hayden actually waves to her. Honest to God waves to her.

My heart nearly stops, and it takes everything in me not to slam the door in Amelia’s face just out of shock.

I go over to where Hayden is still sitting, playing with some of her toys—a couple of Barbies that look like they’ve been electrocuted.

“Amelia’s my friend.”

“She is?” I ask her, picking up a Barbie and making her dance.

Hayden laughs, that cute little belly jiggling, as she does only for me.

“Yes, Daddy. From hockey.”

So, she cares enough to remember her. Well, now I definitely have to hire Amelia.

I get down on the floor with every intention of playing with her, even if sometimes I have no idea what game we’re playing. I just try and let her lead. It’s the way all of the parenting books taught me. The ones I had to get when I realized I was really going to be doing this all alone. I bet Lyla would’ve been naturally good at this. She probably would’ve been able to read Hayden’s mind. But, Hayden has me, and I do my best. Better than my best, because she deserves it.

I go to pick up one of her Barbies and she looks up at me, a toothy grin spreading across her face. I try not to laugh, but it reminds me of the Cheshire cat. This is how I always know she wants something from me. And I doubt I’ll say no.

“Daddy?” she asks, beaming at me, her hands clasped.

I school my face. “Hayden?”

She lashes out at me with her hand playfully, hating when I tease her like that. “I’m bored with my Barbies. That’s what I want to tell you—I’m bored.”

“Bored? Well…” I look toward the back door that leads out into the yard. I’ve spent a lot of time over the past couple months putting together some new toys for out there, so that when it was warm she’d have plenty to do.

She may be a little too young for some of it still, but it’s a shame to let it go to waste on a day like this. “It’s really nice outside. Do you want to go outside, Hayden?”

She nods vigorously and puts her hands in the air, clapping them together and then putting them in the air again. The signal that tells me she wants to be picked up.

For the past two years, we’ve developed a language all our own. I don’t know if other children and their parents do this. I’m sure some kids have symbols for things or hand gestures, especially before they can talk. Hayden still talks baby talk with some words, but she can also talk really well.

But sometimes, she prefers what she and I have—she likes it when I can just understand what she wants.

I get up and reach for her, lifting her up into my arms in one swing. “Wheee!” she squeals, as if I’m taking her on some kind of amazing ride. “Piggyback?” she asks.

I roll my eyes and then give in anyway. I pull her onto my back and she hangs on around my neck. I grab ahold of her legs and start jogging toward the patio door.

“And off we go.”

“Yay!”

When we get out there, I point out all the options. I got her cornhole, ring toss, stuff for volleyball, sidewalk chalk, and even a full playground set.

“Swing. Then wing toss.”

I smile, actually dreading the day when she can say the word ring properly. For now, it means that she’s still small. Still my little girl.

I get her into the swing and start pushing her, but only a little. She always acts like she’s scared at first. Eventually, she’ll beg to go higher and then for me to let her do it by herself.

I remember when she was still too little to be in the normal swing. When I would put her in the baby swings and she would just cry unless I pushed it just enough to rock her.

If Lyla was still here, our lives would be so different right now. Firstly, there would be no nanny. Maybe the occasional babysitter so we could have a beautiful night together. I would woo her with romantic dates—it’s something I used to love to do with her. And the way she would just light up for them…I don’t know if anyone else could possibly make me feel the way she did. And even though Hayden was so little when she left us for good, I feel like Hayden would be different too.

Hayden is so shy. And especially when it comes to women, she just doesn’t feel a bond with any of them. She doesn’t trust anyone. Just the fact that she cared enough to say that she remembered Amelia is a big deal, but it also kind of worries me. Because there’s no replacement. No one could ever take the place of Hayden’s mother.

Lyla was something else. Hardworking. Beautiful. She knew how to have a good time too. And now, the little girl she gave birth to, the daughter she loved so much…she’s growing up and Lyla can’t see her do that. It gets me. Every time I make a mark on the wall where Hayden’s grown just a little bit more, and her mother’s not here to see it, it makes me sick to my stomach.

“Okay, Daddy. I do myself now.” She lets out a happy squeal as she takes the swing almost as high as it can go.

I take a few steps back and just watch her enjoying herself.

The one thing I’m glad about is how quickly she recovers after the anniversaries. The second anniversary of Lyla’s death was only a month ago. I’ve still been taking it hard. I’ve been having weird dreams about her, and going back to wondering what the hell happened that day when she was in the crash.

It still sticks in my mind, and I wish I had answers. But even our families, when I can find the courage to talk to them about it, tell me that it’s way past time to move on. In more ways than one. It’s not that they don’t miss her, but they just don’t want me to keep dwelling on it like this. It’s not good for us.

Hayden has cried and asked about Lyla a few times. I don’t know if she would even know it was the anniversary of her mom’s death or not if I didn’t say anything. It’s hard to know what the body truly remembers.

I cheer her on as she continues to swing, and then she finally stops pumping her legs, clearly ready to slow down and stop.

I’m right behind her to support her as she gets sick of waiting, and I reach out to stop the swing from swinging.

She hops out and goes over to where the ring toss game sits next to the patio, pulling the colored rings off and passing me half of them.

“You first, Daddy,” she says, gesturing for me to step up in front of her.

I smile, loving how kind she is. But again, that pang hits me. The fact that her mother will never know that she’s this kind. Or this smart. Or this beautiful.

I’m slow about tossing the first ring, showing Hayden again exactly how to throw it to make sure she has a shot. I’ll never get onto her for not making it, but I want her to have the ability.

I just barely miss the back stake, and I act disappointed. Then I back up and point for her to get in front of me and try it.

“Help me?” she asks, turning that sweet little face to me.

I kneel behind her and hold on to her wrist, showing her just how to curve it inward and then flick it out.

Hayden gets a tight grip on the red ring, closes her eyes for a second, real tight as if she’s making a wish, and then lets it go the way I showed her. Sure enough, she makes it onto the first stake.

She jumps up and down, then turns around to give me a hug. “Thank you, Daddy. That was so cool.”

I nod and tickle her underarms a little. “It was pretty cool.”

After she’s tucked in bed, I’m sitting on the couch and nursing a beer, flipping through Netflix to see if there’s anything interesting I haven’t watched yet. And of course, there just isn’t. There never seems to be these days. But then again, this is the time of year when things get quiet. I think too much, and I want a distraction. But there is no such thing. There’s no distraction from the grief and the pain when you lose the person you love the most. Especially when you don’t have answers about why you lost that person.

I’m trying to literally shake the thoughts out of my head when I hear Hayden crying from her room.

I set my beer down and take the stairs two by two. It always worries me, setting my heartbeat racing when she wakes up like this in the night. I don’t know why, but I just have this anxiety, this panic, that something could really be wrong.

That life has come to take yet another thing away from me.

As I make it up the stairs, I see that she’s already wandered out of her room, rubbing her eyes. “Daddy?” she asks, and her voice is husky.

Her eyes are red as she moves her hand away. I reach for her, putting my arms out, and she grabs onto them willingly.

I scoop her up and hold her, allowing her to put her head on my shoulder. “Hey, princess, did you have a bad dream?” I ask her, stroking her hair soothingly.

She shakes her head, and it leaves me feeling confused.

“Then, what’s wrong? How can I help?”

“I think…” she begins, but then she starts sobbing. I give her pressure, squeezing her tight and letting her know I’m here while I bounce her up and down in my arms, pacing back and forth in front of the staircase. It’s all I can do, because when she gets like this, there’s just no soothing her and talking it over until she’s ready. It can be about anything, but I have a bad feeling I know what this is. It’s happened before.

Finally, she whispers in my ear, “I think I had a dream about Mommy. I miss Mommy.”

She doesn’t say it very often. I know she doesn’t remember her face, and I have to show her pictures. And thank goodness I have them. I have them everywhere.

“Oh, but it was a good dream?” I ask her.

She nods and pulls back to look at me. Her eyes are so red. I wish I could fix this.

“Yes.”

I tap her nose with the tip of my finger, trying not to get emotional myself. This is not the time.

“You know what? I have those dreams a lot too. It’s memories. Or something like that. It’s a good thing, because it means we remember her, and wherever she is, she remembers us. It’s almost like a message.” I don’t even know if I believe what I’m saying, but I want to. And it’s the best way I have to ease how she feels.

“Mommy talks to me?” she asks, and I nod, unable to say anything now without crying myself.

We stay like that for a few minutes as we come down, just breathing with each other in each other’s arms. Then, she asks me, “Daddy, can you read me a story?”

I nod, knowing just the one she wants. It was Lyla’s favorite. She read it to her even while she was still growing in the womb.

I get Hayden back into her bed and pull out the very worn copy of Goodnight Moon . I curl up in bed next to her and start reading it, and she points her finger when there’s a word she knows, like moon.

I don’t leave the room again until I’m sure she’s asleep peacefully. As I do, I can hear my vibrating cell phone on the couch down the stairs.

I take my time getting to it, not knowing what anyone could possibly want that’s so important at this time of night. I see on the caller ID that it’s Oliver.

I’m sure Dean’s with him too. Those two are always together if Dean’s not at home with his wife.

“What’s up?” I ask, hearing how down I am in my voice. I hate being the downer in the group. Losing my wife and being a single dad, it doesn’t make you the most fun to be around. I’m nothing like a typical hockey player. I’m supposed to be wild, getting into fights and getting women, but instead I’m reading bedtime stories, then having a beer alone on the couch, wanting to be left alone.

“Hey, what’s up, buddy?” Oliver says. I can hear Dean’s voice in the background, confirming my suspicions. There’s lots of noise, so I can only assume they’re out somewhere. “What are you doing? We want you to come out.” I think he’s a little tipsy.

I chuckle a little, trying to be a good sport. “You know I can’t go out, guys. I’m still trying to hire a nanny, though I think I’ve narrowed it down. As soon as I have one, I’ll be able to go out with you guys again some. Right now I have to be with my little girl. Just go ahead and have fun without me.”

I hear some shifting and movement through the phone, and then Dean is the one on the other end. “Do you want me to call Quinn to watch her? I mean, she’s watching our kids anyway. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

I shake my head, thinking about all the times I’ve used and abused the fact that Quinn is such a good mother. And a good wife. “No, I can’t keep using her like that. She’s got three kids around to take care of. I don’t want to keep putting another on her plate so that she never gets a break, especially when Hayden refuses to bond with her.”

Dean chuckles darkly. “Man, you’re making me look like such a bad dad and husband right now.”

I close my eyes softly, not wanting to make him feel that way. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“I know, I know.” I hear Oliver going off about something in the background. “Well, I really do hope you find a good candidate. What’s the holdup?”

I shuffle my feet, wondering if I should even say anything. But why not? These are my guys. Basically my brothers. “Well, I think I found a candidate, but honestly I’m worried about what happened the last time.”

It’s Oliver’s turn to talk, and yes, he’s definitely drunk. “Man, is she hot? If you’re that worried about it, she must be hot. Does that mean you’re finally into somebody?” he says, and I swear my chest tightens like I’m having a heart attack at that idea.

I haven’t dated anyone, haven’t even tried, since my wife’s death.

“Okay, that’s not even funny, Oliver. Drunk or not, don’t joke about that shit.”

Dean takes the phone away from him again. “We’re sorry, he just had too many, too fast…” Dean trails off, and I can tell he doesn’t know what to say at this point. I don’t know what to say either.

“I just need some rest. It’s okay. I’ll see you guys at the next practice.” Then, I hang up, not wanting to be in this conversation anymore.