Page 26 of Crack the Ice

We scoop up all the pucks before we file off the ice and head to our locker room. “I thought your sister was teaching her how to cook,” Monroe says as he unlaces his skates.

“She is, but some people weren’t made to be in the kitchen unsupervised. My wife happens to be one of them.”

I fight a smile, pulling off my skates and throwing on the guards before hiking my backpack over my shoulder. “You guys watching the game later?” I ask, moving toward the exit.

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Sammy throws back.

I flip him the bird, pushing through the door and into the corridor that leads to the parking lot. I’ve got a meeting with my lawyer, and hopefully, he’s got a good update for me. One that will help me keep Sheila, the less-than-pleasant social worker, out of my hair.

“Hey, Reed.” Charlotte, our PR manager, runs down the hallway with a clipboard. “Do you have a minute?”

No. “Yeah, what’s up?” I say.

Meeting her in the middle, she turns her clipboard toward me. “We’ve got a few high school teams that want to know if we can host a tournament. Do you think you and some of the guys might be able to make an appearance?”

I look down at my watch. I have exactly four minutes before I have to be in my car, or I’m going to be late. “Sure, just send me a text with the dates and all that, and I’ll pull a few of them with me.”

She chuckles, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Right, okay. I can do that. But then⁠—”

“Charlotte,” I cut her off. “I appreciate this. But please text it to me. I have somewhere I really need to be, and I’m not going to remember any of this anyway.”

“Right, sorry, Reed,” she says, letting the top paper go before tapping the top of her clipboard. “See you around. Thanks for your time.”

“Yup,” I say, speeding down the hallway toward the exit.

Time to take off the Captain’s hat and put on the “dad” one. It just might be my favorite.

“A two-parent household would greatly strengthen your case here, Mr. Reed. With your travel schedule, I know the judge will want to know the logistics of where they stay or who stays with them when you’re gone.”

The comments from my lawyer play over and over, a two-parent household. My first thought was, how do I get Cecy involved? Stay with the kids while I travel, at the very least.

I know for damn sure finances aren’t a problem. And truthfully, as their legal guardian, I know they won’t be taken from me. I’m not trying to replace their parents, but I would like to ease the burden in a way I didn’t have the luxury of.

“Hey, buddy,” I say as Cade comes and grabs a meal Cecy made for them out of the fridge. The woman is in my house without ever stepping foot in here. I can’t deny that I like it, having physical evidence of her here, even if it’s for them. Not me.

“Can I watch the game with you?” He sits down on the other end of the couch, shoveling a forkful of food into his mouth. He groans around it, and I bite back a smile. “Do you want one of these? They’re so good.

“Nah, she made them for you guys.”

He raises an eyebrow. “She told us she made enough for the three of us. Next excuse, Captain.”

A chuckle escapes as I kick my sock-covered feet up on the coffee table and turn on Sports Center, watching the Western Conference semi-finals. “Touché, my guy,” I say before I tune into the game.

I’m sure I’m not the only one who sits at home and picks apart a game as it unfolds, but I’m probably the one who obsesses over it most. Well, other than Andrews, our goalie. He’s a freaking machine. He knows the tells of all the top scorers in the league. It’s like a sixth sense, and I’m so glad he’s guarding our net instead of our opponents.

There’s a shot attempt, blocked, and then all hell breaks loose. The ref blows the whistle, my eyes widening when I see Reins drop his gloves to the ice, going after one of the Hurricane players. This man is going to take Sammy’s spot for the lead in penalty minutes this season. He’s new to the league, fresh out of college with a head full of hot air on his shoulders, and maybe a chip or two.

He doesn’t stop swinging, though, and when the ref grabs the back of his jersey and pulls, he punches the ref. Whether it was by accident or on purpose, it sure as hell snaps him out of it. Yikes, that’s certainly not how you want to end your season. I’d be shocked if the Rockies didn’t drop him like a hot potato.

Hawks Hotties

Monroe

DID YOU SEE THAT?

Wilson

What a fucking idiot.