“A twelve-year-old can’t make enough to cover hockey costs. There’s not much you can do right now anyway. You’ll need to take the babysitting course to make money that way, and we don’t know anyone in Toronto to babysit.”
Angie’s lip quivered. “I’ll ask everyone who sends me money for Christmas to send it now instead.”
Michelle explained that wouldn’t be enough. It wasn’t just the fees; it was equipment and transportation. Their family members weren’t rich.
Michelle couldn’t ask for any more favors from her family and friends. She wanted more than anything else to give her daughter what she wanted, what she dreamed of, but she simply did not have enough money. If she gave up school and got a job, maybe they could cover hockey this year. But next year, when they were no longer house-sitting and had to pay rent? Michelle had to finish these courses so she could make enough money to support them. Angie, though, could only see her dream slipping from her fingers.
Michelle finally went out for pizza, reminding the crying girl that she was in charge of her brother while her mother was gone. While she was out, she picked up milk and bread for breakfast and lunch tomorrow. The pizza she carried was no longer the big celebration she’d hoped for. It seemed as if everyone had had a crappy day.
Everyone but her neighbor. Troy Green was already inside when she walked into the elevator with her food at the lobby floor. He’d obviously driven into the garage and gotten on the elevator at one of the parking levels. He looked relaxed, carefree and rich, a shopping bag from a name-brand store in his hand.
“I ordered some milk, so I’ll be able to return the bag you loaned us tomorrow,” she said tersely. She only had a small carton with her now, but she felt obligated to indicate she didn’t intend to freeload.
“Don’t worry about it. I have more than enough.”
He glanced at the flat red and green box she had balanced over her grocery bag. “Pizza, eh? Kids must be happy about that.” Considering how poorly she’d treated him, he was being nice. Michelle realized she should respond in kind, but it had been a difficult day, and it was far from over yet.
She smiled perfunctorily. “That was the plan.”
“Your daughter is pretty excited about playing hockey—want me to check out this league she’s talking about?”
“Angie isn’t playing this year,” she said flatly, watching the floor numbers going by.
“Does she know that?”
“She does now. Excuse any sounds of wailing you might hear from our condo.”
“Is it because of me?”
Michelle rolled her eyes. Of course, it had to be about Mr. Hockey Superstar.
“We don’t have the money to buy her equipment. We don’t have a vehicle to get to games and practices. Unlike some, we can’t afford it.”
Michelle was relieved when the elevator doors opened. She refused to defend herself to this spoiled man who could buy anything he wanted, while she couldn’t give her daughter the one thing she dreamed about. It must be nice to have everything go right for you, she thought sourly.
When she knocked on the door, Tommy opened it, and she took a deep breath, preparing to deal with her world: the one where things always seemed to go wrong.
* * *
TROY WONDERED WHY his new neighbor disliked him so much. He was trying to be nice, considering what she’d gone through. He’d been making polite conversation and, wham, out came the guilt.
He wondered if Michelle didn’t want her daughter playing hockey. But one look at the woman’s eyes and he could see that it was ripping her up to not be able to give this to her child.
He didn’t like that look. He’d seen too much of that the past year. People who were desperate to help but helpless. He didn’t want the reminder of the bad time. Besides, it wasn’t fair.
He remembered when he’d played as a kid. His dad had sacrificed a lot so he could play. He’d worn second- or third-hand hockey equipment most of the time. It had been just his dad and him, and money had been tight. Troy had shown talent from his first league games, though, and his dad had dreamed of success through his son’s hockey career, so it had taken priority over anything else.
It had consumed his father. He’d take Troy to any ice they could find and drill him, working him hard to make him better. It was too bad he’d died before Troy had lifted the Cup. His dad might finally have been happy with what Troy had accomplished. Sure, he’d been happy when Troy was drafted, but he’d complained that he hadn’t gone top ten, and that the Blaze was a crap team. Well, that crap team had won the Cup, and Troy had his ring.
Maybe it was just as well his dad hadn’t been around when Troy got his cancer diagnosis. He didn’t think the old man would have been much help with that.
He sat back on his recliner and turned on his gaming system.
He’d had a good meeting with his agent earlier, discussing a new endorsement deal that had come in for him. He should feel like he had his life back. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the unhappy girl next door.
He frowned. Michelle had spoiled a good evening. She’d brought up bad memories. He tried to bury them again, forget about her and her kid.
But after learning about her husband...that was pretty horrible. It was one thing to read about suicide in the news, but another to see people struggling with the result. To see them, and not do anything. He had been able to get help on his way up, but the family across the hall were on their own, from what he could tell.
When he’d been growing up, hockey hadn’t just been something he enjoyed. He and his dad had moved around, and Troy had been in hand-me-down clothes, but his talent at hockey had provided him with friends, and status at school. He had no idea how to help Tommy, but it would be so easy to help Angie by giving her that same cache...except, Michelle.
He was tempted to just go over and offer to pay for the kid’s hockey. But he was sure she’d slam the door in his face.
Maybe if he could get the kid into a program that would pay for hockey He worked for a hockey team—they must have some kind of fund for underprivileged kids.
And once Angie and Michelle were happy, he could focus on regaining his own life.
* * *
THE TEAM WAS a few days into training camp and Troy was feeling good. He was in the best shape of his life; his skills were as sharp as they’d ever been in training camp.
Coach Parker was running drills. Troy’s job as the defender was to stop the winger coming in. But as the winger approached him, Troy froze.
He’d done this hundreds—if not thousands—of times. But that had been before he got sick, when he could trust his body to be strong, invincible. Now, he didn’t trust it.
So instead he tried to use some fancy stick work to steal the puck. But JP slipped past him, and buried the puck in the net.
“What the— What was that, Green?” Coach Parker yelled at him. The other players had turned at the noise. He could feel their stares.
“Trying something new,” Troy said with a grin.
Coach shook his head and barked for the players to start the next drill.
Troy had always played a physical game, never afraid to throw a hit, block a shot or get into a fight.
But he was cautious now. What if he jarred something and that caused the cancer to come back? It wasn’t logical, but the fear was there all the same. And he wasn’t sure how long he could cover it up.
Troy rushed through the cool-down, and was in his street clothes before a lot of the players were even out of the showers. He couldn’t