Page 27 of Crack the Ice

Sammy

At least I never decked a ref. I’d like to deck his ass though.

Monroe

I don’t think I’ve ever heard Lettie hiss so loud.

Andrews

I’m still laughing. Not at the ref, at Reins. Dude had it coming.

Wilder

Hannah’s crying. I have a love/hate relationship with postpartum hormones.

That last one makes me laugh. The man does not. He loves every second of it. He’s waited almost five years to be able to call himself a dad. I swear I thought he’d retire the second his little girl was born, but Hannah insisted he keep playing.

Sammy:

Daddy Reed, what’s your comment?

Rule forty

Sammy

Jesus Christ, old man. That’s it?

What? Do you want a full length dissertation on the rule, or do I need to give you the handbook next time we’re on the plane?

Monroe

Damn, who pissed in your wheaties, Cap daddy?

Would you stop calling me daddy?

The guys go back and forth, and I tune it out, liking things here and there but never responding. It’s easier that way. They can’t dig into my personal life if I don’t give them anything to work with. Though I doubt I’ve seen the last of Monroe’s meddling.

The game ends, the Hurricanes moving on, leaving the Rockies behind. Thank God, because the last thing I want to do is deal with that circus clown. Picking up my phone, I fire off one last text, hoping that by this time tomorrow, we’ll have clinched the Eastern Conference spot.

Get some sleep, get your head in the game. And for the love of God, don’t do anything stupid between now and tomorrow night.

Monroe’s text is immediate.

Monroe

Does that mean I can’t get my nipples pierced?

Monroe

Goodnight, Cap Daddy!

Assholes, the whole lot of ‘em.

“Reed?” Cade’s voice calls from the other side of the couch. Shit, I forgot he was watching this with me.

“What’s up?” I put my phone down and turn sideways to give him my full attention.

“Is that guy going to get a fine?”