The Brick Wall

Prologue

I'd heard a saying once, or maybe even read it on some type of sappy canvas painting in a hobby store. It was 'To have a child is to have your heart go walking around outside your body for the rest of your life.'

I found it strange. The idea of loving someone in such a way that it makes you believe a part of you is missing when they're not near. The idea that when another person is hurt, you feel the same pain and wish you could fix a problem for them.

It never made sense to me.

Maybe that's because I wasn't ever planning on living that type of life. There was only one place my heart could ever be found: the ice.

I grew up on the ice. I lived on the ice. And if I could sleep on it without eventually freezing, I would. My whole life was wrapped around a hockey rink.

Eat, sleep, breathe hockey.

That's all I'd known since my feet were big enough for my first pair of skates. My father would steady me on the ice in front of him and gently push me around the rink. There are photos of me actually teething on hockey pucks.

I lived the life of a player hoping to make it to the big leagues, to the NHL. I worked hard and became a well known name around the minor league which would ultimately land me my choice of any woman I wanted on any given night.

And apparently, that's coming back to bite me in the ass.

"The test is conclusive, Mr. Everett. This little girl is your daughter," the doctor peers back at me over his black rimmed glasses. "Where is her mother?"

The three month old little girl gurgles up from her car seat. "That's a damn good question, doc."