Page 21 of Breakaway

And that was just what Morgan was planning to do.

She watched the rest of the game with her eye on Travis.

Kyler passed the puck to Noah, who shot at the net. Noah missed the net, and sent the puck into the corner. Colorado’s goalie went into the corner to try to clear the puck, but ended up sending it right to Harrison.

Harrison tried to wrap around the net, but the goalie quickly returned to the crease and deflected the shot, right to Travis, who was in front of the net. He took a quick wrist-shot and buried the puck.

GOAL!

The buzzer sounded a few seconds after the goal horn, and the game was over.

The Renegades had won.

MORGAN WAS SITTING at the kitchen table waiting, when her uncle got home from the arena. Willow had refused to go to bed for the sitter. She had wanted to wait for her daddy to come home from the game, and Hank had followed Willow’s lead, even though his eyes drooped with exhaustion. Willow had planted herself in the living room with a book and was still there, when Morgan returned home. Trina had taken the kids upstairs, and they were reading books until Sam got home so that he could kiss them goodnight.

Willow was certainly a seven year old with a mind of her own!

“Hey,” he said, cautiously. Obviously he could tell that she was not happy.

“Nice game,” she said, before taking a drink of her water. “The kids are waiting for you. But after, I’d like to talk.” It was after eleven, and the kids were still refusing to sleep.

“Willow likes to test the sitter every so often at bedtime. She’s got her mother’s stubbornness,” he chuckled. Clearing his throat, he addressed her, “Yeah, sure. Let me just go say goodnight to the kiddos, or they might never go to sleep.” Uncle Sam disappeared upstairs.

She could hear lots of giggling coming from the kids’ rooms. That was one thing she would never question her uncle on?his love for his family. She knew he loved her, too, just like he had loved her mom. And he had always tried to be her protector. And she loved him for it.

“Okay.” Her uncle returned to the kitchen, no longer in his game-day suit, but instead in sweats. “Are you hungry? I’m pretty sure we have leftover lasagna, or there might even be some pineapple upside down cake?”

“I’m fine for now. Thanks.” She fiddled with her water bottle.

“Okay, kiddo.” He pulled up a chair at the table. “What’s up?”

Morgan had carefully planned out everything she wanted to say, but now that she was ready to talk, her mind was drawing a blank. “I know you don’t like Travis, but I do. And that’s really all that matters.”

“Morgan,” he said with a sigh. “I’ve tried to protect you your whole life from guys like Travis—”

“What does that mean? ‘Guys like Travis’? Nice guys, sweet guys, caring guys, friendly guys?”

“Players. Young hockey players who think they are God’s gift to women. I know guys like Travis. Hell, I used to be Travis! I know him better than he knows himself!”

“I’m not here to fight with you. But I am an adult now. I like Travis, and we’re just getting to know one another. And regardless of how you feel, nothing is going to change.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt. I hate to see you hurt,” he said softly.

“He’s not going to hurt me. Travis is a good guy. And he’s not the person you think he is. I’ll be fine.” She stared at him for a second. “Tonight, you didn’t happen to—”

“That puck to the face was purely coincidental. I’m sure I couldn’t make that shot if I tried. And I didn’t try. I swear to you, kiddo, I was aiming for the net. Rookie had his stick in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it redirected the puck up his stick,” Sam defended.

“Okay.” She had needed to hear the words from him. He might not like the guys she dated, but he would never lie to her.

“However,”—he looked her right in the eye—“if he did ever happen to hurt you...”

“Please don’t finish that sentence.” She laughed. “And I believe you. You’ve always protected me, and I know you always will.”

“This doesn’t mean I have to like it. And it certainly doesn’t mean I trust him.”

She had a hard time taking his threats seriously. His dirty blonde hair and blue eyes—very similar to her eyes, that Morris trait—made him look like he’d just stepped off the beach and should have a surfboard nearby. Even his teammates called him “Surfer Boy.”

“Love you, kiddo,” he said, as she headed up to bed.