Mind Pucked (Chicago Blue Jays #1)

28. Jackson

28

JACKSON

H ayden came home with the biggest smile on her face. I’m so happy to see my little girl happy once again. Hell, I’m happy to be happy again myself.

My parents stayed for a little while, visiting with us and questioning us about our relationship. My mom seems thrilled.

I smile as I watch Hayden and Amelia playing on the floor together. Things have been going well between us since the night at the club, but I can’t help being a bit apprehensive.

I don’t like feeling this way, but it’s in my nature. It’s all been forgiven, but that doesn’t mean it’s so easily forgotten. I don’t bring these feelings up with Amelia—there’s no sense in making her insecure about anything. She’s amazing.

Their laughter breaks me out of my thoughts, and I smile again as Hayden’s giggles fill the room. That’s the sweetest sound a father can hear.

I don’t know many women who would get on the floor and play Legos with a little girl for hours on end, but Amelia does.

I look at the smile on Amelia’s face and God, I just want to grab her and kiss her senseless again, like I did outside the club the other night. I want so badly to trust her with everything in me, but I can’t completely let go. I know it’s going to take time to fully heal and move on—I’m just not very patient.

I never have been, and perhaps that’s one of my biggest downfalls. She’s just going to have to live with all the parts of me that aren’t so pretty. As I’m going to live with the parts of our past that need to stay behind me. Behind us.

“Daddy!” Hayden squeals as she finally spots me leaning against the doorframe watching them play on the floor.

“Hi, pumpkin, are you having fun with Amelia?” I ask as I kneel down to her level.

She throws her little arms around my neck and hugs me tight as I stand with her in my arms. She’s getting heavier, and I know she’s growing up, but I’ll carry her around as long as my arms will let me. If she wants me to hold her ten years from now, I’ll always find a way to do so…though by then, she’ll be a teenager and likely want nothing to do with me. I smile at that thought, hoping she always remains Daddy’s little girl.

“We’ve been coloring pictures, Daddy. Want to color too?” she asks me, her little hands on my cheeks. “I just got done playing with Legos too.”

“Sure, baby, I’ll color with you.” I walk over to the table and sit her back in her seat.

I take a seat next to Amelia and I’m immediately hit with her scent. It’s light and floral, reminding me of all the time spent close to her. I can’t help but breathe deeper, inhaling it. It’s intoxicating, making me think about the intimate moment we shared in the alley by the club when her scent was all around me.

We were so saturated in the moment that it didn’t matter to either of us that we were in a semi-public place. The thrill of that moment lives on inside of me.

I clear my throat and get my head back into the present, choosing a coloring page while they continue the pictures they’d already been working on.

“It looks like you two have been having a lot of fun,” I say as I start coloring my picture of Elmo.

“We have been. Amelia has such fun ideas. I’m glad you’re not mad at her anymore, Daddy,” Hayden says, never looking up from her picture.

The thought of Hayden being so devastated by this situation breaks my heart all over again. If I can keep this smile on her face forever, I’ll do it.

“I’m glad for that too, Hayden,” Amelia says, her eyes locking with mine.

My heart squeezes in my chest. I lay my hand on top of hers and run my thumb along the side of her hand.

“I’m glad too. I can’t imagine my life without you in it, Amelia,” I tell her honestly. “Or you, Hayden.” I nuzzle my daughter on the top of the head.

I watch as Amelia’s eyes fill with tears, and I lean over and kiss her cheek before getting back to my coloring. I realize I need to work on trusting her again, and decide that I’m going to take things one day at a time and do my best to be happy in the moment and see where things go.

“Daddy, why did you make Elmo look like a hockey player?” Hayden’s voice breaks through my thoughts as she giggles loud enough to echo through the room.

I hadn’t even realized I’d done it.

I look down at the paper and sure enough—I’ve colored Elmo’s Tickle Me T-shirt in the colors of my Blue Jays uniform. I laugh and lift it up to show Amelia what I’ve done. She smiles and shakes her head.

I’ve even adorned his head with a small helmet and cross bars on the front out of silver and white crayon.

“I guess it really is deep in my soul, isn’t it?” I say as I continue coloring, making sure to get all the details right now that I know what I’m doing.

I finish the picture and move to my laptop on the island in the kitchen.

“Where did you go?” Amelia’s voice calls out from the living room.

“I’m going to check my email really quick,” I say. “Coach is supposed to send me the roster for the camps he’s running for kids who want to learn hockey…I’ve said I’ll volunteer this year.”

“How very unselfish of you,” she teases me, her voice carrying through the doorway.

“You hush or I’ll volunteer you to clean the locker rooms after the kiddos get done.” I laugh, and so does Amelia.

I open my email and see that there are more comments from Goodall, the guy I slammed into the barricade. Ever since the game, he’s been running his mouth online and I have no idea what to do to stop it. Of course, social media sends it all to my email for me to see.

I roll my eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter under my breath as I read the comments one at a time.

Wayne Goodall: Washed up hockey player breaks nose on the ice, more like I broke his nose on the ice. It’s so sad his temper got the best of him…the best thing about that guy. #WhyStayIfYouCantPlay #WashedUpAndWasted. #FannyOfTheNanny

Sandra Fisher to Wayne Goodall: Wayne, why don’t you leave that poor man alone. He’s a great player and you have no room to talk. #NoGoodGoodall #WashedUpWayne

Wayne Goodall to Sandra Fisher: Looks like we know who has class and who doesn’t. #BanThisBlueJaysFan

Chris Patrick to Wayne Goodall: Keep your mouth shut. Everyone knows what you said to him on the ice. #HateOnTheIceNotNice #BadallTheGoodall #WastedOnWayne

I close out before I can read anymore.

“What is it?” Amelia asks as she comes to stand beside me, obviously reading the irritation on my face.

“It’s nothing, just some childish bullshit from that guy I beat the shit out of on the other team,” I tell her. “There are a lot of comments from fans coming to my defense,” I admit, and my heart swells with love for them.

“The guy you slammed into the barricade?” she says. “He’s an ass, don’t put any stock in what that guy has to say.”

“Yeah, it’s him. I hoped he’d drop it, but I should’ve known better.” I close the laptop in frustration. “He never could let go of anything. He holds grudges better than he holds a hockey stick. The truth is, I don’t know what I did to him in the first place. He said he tried to bag Lyla and she said no…maybe it’s that…” I trail off.

“What are you going to do?” Amelia asks me as she goes back to the table to help Hayden pick up the crayons and papers, talking to me through the doorway.

I think for a moment before I answer her. I honestly don’t know what I’m gonna do to shut him up, but I need to do something…and fast. Before it gets out of hand. I’ve been thinking about doing something for charity, and an idea starts forming in my mind as I think about the things he said in his comments.

“I think I’m going to suggest a charity boxing match between us. He’s too chicken to actually go through with it, but it might make him think long enough to shut him up,” I tell her, wondering if she’s going to try to shut down the idea.

I watch as her eyes widen in shock and her mouth drops open. She clamps her mouth shut and narrows her eyes at me.

“Jackson…”

I can tell by the look on her face that she’s about to lecture me and tell me I don’t need to do anything like that, or that I’ll get myself hurt, but it’s the only thing I know that will get him to shut his cocky mouth.

“I know what you’re going to say. But I don’t think we’ll have to worry because I don’t think he’ll even go for it.” I open my laptop again and start making a new post on my social media. “Or, he’ll accept and not show.” I smile.

I am calling on Wayne Goodall to accept an invitation to a charity boxing match I will be hosting. Information TBD. Wayne, if you accept, you’ll be boxing against me…fair and square. Let me know by midnight tonight. #WailingOnWayne #JackedByJackson #StandUpForWhatsRight

I finish the post and hit publish, grinning as I close my laptop.

“Now we wait,” I say, sitting back on the stool and wondering, Did I just make a mistake?