Roman by Sawyer Bennett
She. Is. Me.
Yet somehow I fear that she's not going to be as overjoyed at this shocking news as I am, because if there's one thing that Gray has more than me, is a healthy dose of skepticism as she evaluates things. She looks for the worst. She looks for the chinks in armor. She tries to figure out ulterior motives. It's all a part of her business acumen, but sometimes that doesn't necessarily apply to real life.
I know she sure has hell suffered from that skepticism when Ryker and she first started dating, and it held her back a bit from him at first. I only hope that she can keep an open mind about all of this.
With one last tap of my fingers against the steering wheel, I square my shoulders and exit my car. Gray isn't expecting me, as I figured the surprise of me showing up to her house tonight will be long forgotten once I drop the real surprise on her.
After I ring the doorbell, I hear the pounding of little feet across hardwood get progressively louder, and then Ruby is swinging the door open wide, grinning up at me.
"Pop-Pop!" she exclaims, and then launches herself into my arms. "What are you doing here?"
While I have to say Ryker Evans becoming my son-in-law was an improvement to my already fantastic life, the real joy is that when Gray married him I got two little granddaughters in the deal. Ryker had been raising them as a divorced single dad when he met Gray.
It wasn't long after Gray and Ryker got married that I was dubbed "Pop-Pop" by Ruby who is six going on twenty-one. Violet quickly followed suit. She's eight and perhaps wiser than me.
"Dad...Gray...Pop-Pop's here," I hear Violet yell as she skids to a halt in front of the door. She also grins up at me, which showcases the tooth she lost on the top middle last week. I thought the tooth fairy should have brought her a hundred dollars, but Gray and Ryker firmly quashed that and she got five dollars instead.
I step into the house, put Ruby down, and then pick up Violet. She gives me a sweet kiss without me asking and I give her a squeeze before I deposit her back to the floor.
"Dad?" I hear Gray's voice as she walks into the living room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "This is a surprise."
"Not intruding, am I?" I ask.
"Not at all." She smiles and then spins back toward the kitchen. "I'm just cleaning up after dinner. Have you eaten? I can make you a plate."
"I'm good," I say as I follow her into the kitchen, Ruby and Violet falling in right behind me.
Truth is, I haven't eaten dinner yet, but I'm too wired over this news I'm about to deliver to think about eating.
When we enter the kitchen, I see Ryker closing the dishwasher. He turns with a smile and holds his hand out. "What's up, Pop-Pop?"
"Smart ass," I say affectionately as I reach out and give him a quick shake.
"Pop-Pop," Ruby says as she tugs at the bottom of my suit jacket. "Want to come upstairs and see my spider collection? I just added a pirate spider. They eat other spiders and it's really cool."
I don't miss the visible shudder that runs through Ryker's body. He has a spider phobia, a fact I learned early on in his relationship with Gray. While he saved her from a psychopathic ex-Cold Fury player and thus earned my devotion for life, he once admitted to me that if it was a spider attacking her, he's not sure he could have done it.
"I'll come up in a bit to look," I tell as I ruffle her curly hair. "But I actually need to talk to Gray and your dad about something important."
I glance at Gray and see concern in her eyes, as I never show up at her house unannounced with "something important" to discuss.
"Why don't you girls go upstairs and play, then Pop-Pop will come up in a bit," Ryker says as he walks over to both girls, and with a firm hand to each of their backs starts pushing them toward the staircase that goes from the kitchen to the second floor.
There's no grumbling from Violet and Ruby because they're good girls. They both shoot me parting grins and then run up the stairs.
"Want some coffee?" Gray asks, and I shake my head. I had too much damn coffee today with Lexi at The Grind and probably won't be able to sleep a wink tonight.
"Mind if we sit at the table?" I ask, but I don't wait for a response, moving around the kitchen island to the breakfast nook.
Gray and Ryker take chairs around the square table, both of them looking at me curiously with no alarm or misgiving.
I'm getting ready to change that.
I take a chair opposite them, scooting it in so I can rest my forearms on the table. I glance at Ryker briefly, then at Gray. "I've got something to tell you and there's no real way to prepare you for the shock of what I'm going to say--"
"Are you sick?" Gray interjects bluntly, her eyes now swimming with fear.
"God, no," I quickly exclaim, and give her a reassuring but sheepish smile. "Sorry...it's not bad news."
My daughter quickly exhales, her entire posture relaxing once again. "You scared the crap out of me with your whole 'I have something to talk to you about.' "
I nod in understanding as I take in the fact her guard is completely down now. That makes me feel utterly terrible for pushing forward and ripping off the Band-Aid, because my job is to protect my daughter, not cause her distress.
Still, it can't be helped.
I cough slightly to clear my throat. "A woman came to see me today at the office. Her name's Lexi Robertson. I'd never met her before. Didn't know she existed. But she claims she's my daughter, and I believe her."
Gray draws in a sharp gasp of disbelief, her eyes rounding with stunned surprise. Ryker sits up straight and his hand immediately comes to the middle of Gray's back, where it slides up over her shoulder for support.
"What?" Gray rasps. "How can that be?"
"About a year after your mother died, I dated a woman named Sybil Robertson," I say softly. "It was a blind date set up by some mutual friends. We only saw each other for a few months, and we were intimate, but eventually I ended things with her. She apparently found out she was pregnant after I ended things and never told me."
Gray gives a stubborn shake to her head. "And you just believe this woman that shows up, claiming to be your daughter, what, twenty-something years later?"
"She's twenty-six," I say. "And she didn't know I was her father until about ten months ago. Her mother told her the truth just before she died."
A quick flash of sympathy crosses Gray's face for Lexi's mother, but then just as quickly settles into a mask of stony silence, sparks of anger brewing in her eyes.
"And you believe her?" Ryker asks calmly.
Turning my gaze to my son-in-law, I say, "I do. I spent a good chunk of today talking to her, getting to know her. She looks a lot like her mother, but her chin and nose are mine--"
"That doesn't mean anything," Gray murmurs, and there's no doubt she's rattled by this.
I look back to my daughter, reach my hand across the table, and hold it palm up. She refuses to move but I pin her with a hard, fatherly look and then nod down to my hand. Reluctantly, she slides her against mine, and my fingers wrap gently around her. "Gray...honey...I can tell. And besides that, she came prepared with a paternity test for me to take. We'll have solid proof within a few weeks, but I know it's true."
"And what does she want?" Gray asks, some of the heat in her eyes dying down but still no denying the suspicion in her question.
"To get to know me," I tell her frankly. "To get to know you too. She has no other family...not close family anyway."
"And you're not the least little bit curious as to what her ulterior motives are?" Gray asks me with a focused look. "You are, after all, a very rich man."
I squeeze Gray's hand and try to reassure her. "She doesn't want my money--"
"How do you know?" Gray presses.
"I just do," I tell her patiently. "And you're going to have to trust me on that."
She gives me a grunt of denial and pulls her hand from mine. "I trust you with my life, Dad, but I'll have to form my own opinions about her."
"Fair enough."
What else can I expect?
Gray has the right to decide this for herself. She has the right to accept Lexi or not.
Gray has had me all to herself for most of her life. While I never exactly pined for another child, I can tell you it's a wondrous thrill knowing I have another. I'm not sure Gray is going to feel that way anytime soon, but I'm sure Lexi can win her over the way she has me in just a short afternoon together.
If she'll just give her a chance, get to know her a bit, she'll see that she could have a solid relationship with her sister. I'm sure of it.
Chapter 4
Roman
My eyes go to the round clock on the locker room wall the minute I step inside, and it confirms what I already figured.
I'm late to practice.
Again.
Pavel Alogrin pushes past me in a rush, giving me a brief "What's up?" He's late as well, but he doesn't make it a habit, so I'm sure he'll be forgiven.
As it stands now, I'm totally going to get the evil eye from Coach Pretore. Fortunately I can usually get that look to die down before the end of practice, because I work my ass off for this team. Every time I put on my practice jersey, I play as if it I were in a Stanley Cup final game.
Not bragging. It's just that I don't know how to do anything half-assed.
Except, well...being on time.
It's a fault for sure, but one I think they should forgive me, since I have so many more things in the plus column as a Cold Fury member. And Coach will forgive me for sure. Gray Brannon...probably not, since I'm already on her shit list. Luckily, general managers do not attend practices, and as long as Pretore doesn't tell her I'm late again, she'll never know. I'll just make sure to superiorly impress him at this practice so he has a smile on his face when I skate off the ice.
Because I'm late, I don't waste time going to my locker so I can get suited up. Sitting on the bench, I bend over to take off my shoes when the voice of Brian Brannon catches my attention. I tilt my head to the right toward the athletic training room as my fingers work the laces and spot the CEO and owner of the Cold Fury looking sharp in a dark charcoal gray designer suit. The training room has glass walls that separate it from the general locker area and is where the athletic trainers work on our injuries. It should be empty now, as the athletic trainers will be up on the ice with the team during practice. My fingers freeze on my laces and my attention is immediately taken by the woman with whom Mr. Brannon is talking.
The gorgeously sexy black-haired woman I spoke to briefly two days ago in the Cold Fury executive lobby. She's leaning a curvy hip against one of the training tables, pressing one hand down into the vinyl-covered top for balance. The other hand is at her hip, with her thumb hooked through a belt loop of faded jeans with holes in the knees and rolled at the cuffs. Her top is nothing but cream-colored lace with long flowing sleeves with a cream camisole underneath, and she's wearing Dr. Martens again. Very funky and totally out of place with Brian Brannon's posh attire. I note, though, that the woman's posture is relaxed and she's listening with interest to Mr. Brannon as he explains the training room.
Now that I'm paying attention, their voices become clearer to me.
As I work one shoe off, I watch as Brian gestures with his hand around the room. "The athletic trainers work mostly in here, either attending injuries sustained during a game or practice, or doing preventative work like taping or mobility. Each AT is a certified strength coach as well, so they'll often work with the players in the workout rooms." He stops and points to the adjacent room, which is also walled with glass but has a pass-through door, before adding, "I'll have you shadow Vale Campbell one day so you can watch."
"That would be awesome," the woman says gratefully and with an eager smile on her face. "I really appreciate you taking the time to show me all this behind-the-scenes stuff."
"Well, it's important," Mr. Brannon says back to her with a smile. "You should have the opportunity--"
But he's cut off as his phone starts ringing. His hand reaches inside his coat's chest pocket, pulling it out, and he answers, "Brian Brannon."
My other shoe comes off as he says into the phone, "Hang on just a moment."
Turning to the woman, he glances at his watch and says, "I have to take this. It shouldn't be long and I'll finish well before we have to meet Gray. Just hang tight."
The woman nods with a gracious smile and Brannon walks out of the training room. He doesn't spare me a glance and heads out of the locker room, leaving me and the woman the only two people in here.
She hasn't seen me yet but I'm about to rectify that. I push up off the bench and in five strides I'm standing in the open doorway to the training room. She has her back to me, looking at some of the rehab posters on the wall, so I'm not surprised she startles when I say from behind her, "Imagine that...running into you twice in one week."
The woman spins around, and it's clear she recognizes my voice, as her eyes are already bright with welcome as they make contact with my own.
"Well, if it isn't the team troublemaker, Roman Sykora," she says with a grin.
I grin back at her, since she obviously knows who I am. "I will not deny that moniker. But don't you think it's about time I got your name? We didn't have a chance the other day."
Fuck, she's totally cute when she tilts her head to the side, raises her eyes up to the ceiling, and taps a forefinger against her lips as if she's pondering my request with great care. Then she looks back to me with a smile and takes three steps my way with her hand outstretched. "Lexi Robertson."
Her hand is small in mine, bones slight and delicate, but her shake is surprisingly strong. Her silvery eyes with tinges of blue around the pupil sparkle at me in amusement as I refuse to let her hand go after the introduction is long dead.
"So why's a gorgeous girl named Lexi Robertson getting a personal tour of the athletic trainer's room from the great and powerful Brannon?"
For a second, I think I see something akin to panic flicker across her face, but then I'm completely redirected when she grips my hand tighter, showing no desire for us to break apart, then goes as far as to run a finger from her other hand across the back of mine. "I'm curious why a known troublemaker would dare be sauntering into the locker room long after the rest of the team started practice. Surely you're not looking for more trouble?"
Fuck...she's a flirt, and I like that too. I like it because I am as well.
At this point, I'm not sure if the "trouble" she's referencing is the fact that I'm late or the fact that I'm bantering with a woman who potentially could be considered trouble. I'm guessing by the mischievous look in her eyes it's the latter, and damn if that doesn't hook me harder.
I've never run from trouble before and actually find myself quite at home around it.
"Well, I am indeed late for practice, but it would be totally worth it if I spent this time talking you into going out with me," I tell her bluntly, but with a boyish grin to enhance my charm.
Her eyes sparkle even more brilliantly, and I swear the blue ringing her pupils expands outward to overtake the silver-gray. She narrows her eyes at me contemplatively. "Hmmmm. I'm what most would consider an adventurer, but I'm not quite sure I could handle the likes of you."
"You should only believe half of what you read about me," I advise her seriously as we still hold hands.
"So true or false?" she asks slyly. "Did that woman really try to blackmail you over that photo?"
"True," I say unabashed.
"And was she engaged to one of your teammates?"
"Also true," I say, and manage not to wince, because that could be a total turnoff for most women. I also press forward with some of my better qualities before she asks me about the video my ex-flavor-of-the-month posted online of me in the shower singing. The glass was frosted and you couldn't see details of my body, but my singing is fucking awful. "But I have many good points. I work with a local golden retriever rescue organization, transporting animals
"You get chronically ejected from games for underhanded hits," she points out.
"But golden retrievers," I say with an exaggerated mock whine. "Puppies...warm bundles of puppy fur. Surely that makes up for my rotten temperament on the ice, right?"
"You really are bad, aren't you?" She laughs as she pulls her hand from mine and takes a step back. Oddly, I don't like this, but then I'm relieved when she merely hops up onto the therapy table behind her. "Trying to bribe me with puppies."
"Well, what else could I bribe you with to go out with me?" I ask as I step closer to her.
She crosses one ankle over the other, plants her palms on the vinyl top, and casually swings her legs back and forth. "What did you have in mind?"
My mind blanks for a moment, because I hadn't really thought where we'd go on a date. I'd sort of jumped ahead to what would happen after the date, which I hoped might involve being naked.
"We could go out to dinner tonight," I throw out to her. It's classic and is easier to get to know someone a little better rather than sitting through a movie.
She shakes her head and a wave of disappointment hits me. "I have to work tonight."
"Tomorrow night?" I counter quickly, only to remember I can't because I have a game. "Shit...not tomorrow night. How about the night after?"
She shakes her head again. "Also have to work."
I take a breath, let it out, and try to put things in better perspective. "Okay, let's start with what do you do for a living and when you do have time to go out with me."
Lexi smiles at me in amusement, and for the first time I realize she's not falling all over herself in an effort to have a date with me. I mean, most women would skip out on work or cancel other plans to go out with me. Well, with any hockey star to be honest. But she's just sitting back and enjoying the fact that I'm slightly flustered here.
"I work at a coffeehouse called The Grind," she says as her legs continue to swing back and forth. "Mostly nights, but sometimes day shifts."
I blink at her in surprise, as I'm not a coffee drinker. "You mean people actually drink coffee at night? Doesn't that keep you awake or something?"