Page 104 of Crack the Ice

“You are so screwed,” he laughs again, but the smile has been a permanent fixture on his face since we got here. Seeing them happy is worth every dollar I’ve spent on stupid shit.

I cut him a look, which only makes him laugh harder. “You could offer to help, you know?”

In a move all too familiar, he pulls his hat off, brushing his fingers through his hair, and flipping the bill so it sits backward on his head. “And miss out on watching you be an actual simp?” he chuckles. “Nah.”

My wires must have gotten crossed at some point during that sentence because what the fuck is a simp?

“A what now?”

His laugh grows boisterous, bouncing off the glass tanks as we walk toward the lemurs. “Whipped, Reed. You’re whipped.”

“Damn right,” I say without hesitation. “You will be one day too.”

We round the corner, almost getting knocked over when Lily lets out a high-pitched, closed-mouth scream, pulling Cecilia by the hand toward the enclosure.

“I hope so,” he says, eyes glued to the two of them.

I’ve never stopped to ask if he wanted kids. I don’t think we’ve talked much about his future outside of hockey. “You want kids?”

The column of his neck flexes as he works to swallow, but he nods. His hand snakes into his back pocket, and he turns slightly toward me, but his eyes never leave his sister.

“Yeah,” he admits. “I want a chance to be what my dad never was. I want to be the goofy guy he was, but the leader you are. I want to love my future wife the way he loved my mom. I know, it’s weird for a sixteen-year-old to think about that, but after all I’ve lost, I don’t want to waste time pretending I don’t know what I want.”

I don’t miss the part where he threw me in there. That’s not what I’m choosing to focus on, though. “It’s not weird. When you know, you know. And now, you don’t have to spend your teens and twenties messing around. You know the end goal, don’t settle.”

“I won’t.”

We quietly watch the girls for a minute before I turn fully to him. “You want to play hockey professionally, or is there something else you might want to try first?”

His arms cross, taking on a defensive edge. “You don’t think I’m good enough?”

“Those words never left my mouth, Cade.”

Lily giggles, and I look over in time to see some raccoon-monkey mutt-looking thing take something from her hand. They don’t even live in the water. Why are they at the aquarium?

“I want to make sure you’re not going that route because you think it’s what I want, or what anyone else wants from you. I want you to play because you want to, because it’s in your blood like it’s in ours. And if it’s not, I need you to know that’s okay. No one is going to be upset if you decide it’s not for you.”

“Thanks, I needed to hear that,” he says to the floor. “I do want to play, but I kind of want to go to college first.”

“Done.”

“I’m going to have to get my grades up so I can get scholarship money. It’s not that easy.”

“It is that easy, because by the time you graduate you’ll be a Reed, and it’d be the greatest honor of my life to put you through school, Cade.”

His jaw slackens, eyes bouncing over my face. “Just like that?”

I shrug. How else did he think this would go? “Yeah, man, just like that. I take care of the people who mean something to me. You may not be my son, but I do love you like one. Maybe more like a little brother, but you get the point.”

He shocks the hell out of me when his chest slams into mine, his arms wrapping around my shoulders. “Thanks, Reed. I know I don’t tell you enough, but I appreciate everything you’re doing for us.”

I’d hug him back, but my arms are full of stupid stuffed animals. Is this what it would have felt like to hug my dad as a teen? Cade was eight when his dad died. Has he been chasing approval, trying to get this feeling for the past eight years?

“I’m proud of you, kid.” I give him the words I never got to hear, hoping they heal something in him before it ever gets the chance to fully break and fester. “Really, really proud of you. I know your parents are smiling down on you too. You’re one hell of a kid, and you’re going to make a kick-ass dad one day.”

He pulls away, eyes glassy, but a conspiratorial smirk crosses his face. “Then do I get to call you Papa Reed?”

“Get outta here, dude,” I say, shoving him in the shoulder with my own, careful not to start an avalanche of animals in the middle of the aquarium.