I grew up somewhere that assumes your future will look exactly like your past. Scholarships, discipline, and more late nights than I can count are the reason mine won't. I'm within reach of finishing my PhD and building the kind of life where stability isn't something you hope for. It's something you create. Then Lucy arrives. A little girl who's already seen more dysfunction than any child should, and suddenly, the future I've been working toward carries a lot more weight. Finishing my doctorate isn't just about ambition anymore. It's about making sure Lucy grows up somewhere steady, somewhere safe, somewhere with room to grow. Which is not the apartment I share with three other people. Most of the guys who used to live there have moved on with the women they fell for, women I know through the bookstore where I work and a PR campaign I've been helping with. The house that once held half a hockey roster has room for more. It's about to become our temporary home. Responsibility has never been my favorite word. Not when it comes wrapped in estates, expectations, and a family legacy that assumes my life already belongs to it. Hockey is different. Hockey is something I chose.

Then there's Hildy. Brilliant. Stunning. The kind of woman who turns heads the moment she walks into a room, even in thrifted clothes. Most people underestimate her. That's their first mistake. Mine was assuming she recognized me. But the woman who stole my attention during a lecture, and kept it long after, clearly believed I was just another academic. She still does. Which means she has no idea the man she left that lecture with lives at the Puck Pad. The same place she's about to call home. What if the night she barely remembers is only the beginning?

Contains mature themes.