Page 28 of Crack the Ice

I nod. Maybe I should pull the NHL handbook out, let this kid get a head start on studying it. “Yeah, it’s based on his salary. But since his season just ended, he’ll start next season riding the bench for a twenty-game suspension.”

He sucks in air between his teeth before letting out a low whistle. “Yikes, that’s not worth it.”

My hand lands on his shoulder. “No, it isn’t. Violence is never the answer. Even if Sammy tries to tell you it is.”

I give it a soft squeeze before letting it drop as he gets off the couch and walks into the kitchen. My face softens as I watch him rinse off his plate. His broad shoulders look so much like mine did at that age. It’s good to have them here. It’s like Caroline and the universe knew I needed my own family. As unconventional as it is, I’m one lucky fucker.

“Night, Reed,” he calls.

“Night.”

I turn off all the lights before heading to the fridge to grab a protein shake, only to stop when I take in the sheer number of containers in here. She went all out for them. Well, us, I guess.

My lips curl upward as I pull one out and open it. Fettuccine Alfredo, one of my all-time favorites. I don’t think before I heat it up, letting out a groan similar to Cade’s when I take the first bite. My god, she’s good. Standing in my kitchen, with nothing but the light over the stove to illuminate my thoughts, I let myself imagine what she would look like in here, making dinner not for the week but every night, for us. For our family. But the most overwhelming thought is that I need her here. I need her in my life, and I’m about done doing whatever this dance is with her.

NINE

CECILIA

“Another day, another dolla!” I sing to the tune of Lil’ Troy as I push through the kitchen doors. “Gotta find the yeast for this challah.” My nineties summer hits are blaring in my pastel pink headphones, giving me all the good vibes this morning.

I pull out the eight baskets of dough I left proofing in the fridge the past 48 hours, and line them up on the prep table. Making sourdough is such a ridiculously long process in comparison to most everything else I make, and if I didn’t love making it, I wouldn’t. Complicated, sticky, pain in the ass, but so damn delicious.

Kinda like someone I know.

My hips sway to the music, my forearms getting a workout as I wipe down the shiny metal surface so I can move on to cookie dough. I’m making multiple cookie cakes with giant hawks on them for the Wilder Foundation kids to eat in the box at the game tomorrow.

I’m putting together the different bags of frosting when my music cuts out, indicating someone is calling, and I tap the answer button on my watch when I see it’s my other best friend, Savannah Collins.

“Hey, Sunny.”

There’s a labored breath from her end, and my mind scatters in a million directions trying to figure out why. She’s been dealing with so much bullshit with all this Wyatt stuff. She felt bamboozled by the asshole, which she was, but then she took it upon herself to fix it, and it spiraled way out of control. “Can I room with you for a while?”

“Of course, but why? You don’t live here.”

“I’m coming back, for good. I’m taking over for Dad, but not until the end of next season. I have to learn everything first, and I don’t want to move into his house, though he has more than enough room. I need my own space. I’m looking for a house, don’t worry. It’s temporary.” Her ramble makes me smile, but the fact that she’s coming back from Colorado and her, me, and Lana will all be in the same place like we were as kids makes my heart swell.

“Sunny, I don’t care. You can stay with me forever. It’s not like I bring guys home.”

She barks out a laugh that makes me cringe, considering the volume my headphones are at. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were a nun.”

My eyes roll so far back into my head I fear they might get stuck. I’ve never told my friends about my relationship with Mav, nor my aversion to men because they don’t measure up to him. Sure, there’s more than one reason for that. Mainly, they’d encourage it. I lost count over the years of how many times Kelsey and Lana made some offhand comment about how cute we’d be together.

Add Sunny to the mix, and it’d be meddling central. She’s such a hopeless romantic, a boss babe through and through, but give her a hint at anything that remotely sounds like interest and she’s worse than Lucas. I can’t wait for the day she meets her match. He’s going to have to have balls of steel and be willing to romance the hell out of her.

“Not a nun, just have bigger goals than being tied down and popping out babies.” The detached tone of my voice makes me flinch. “Besides, I get to watch my brother and Kait be all cutesy, and live vicariously through them without any of the drama.”

Her snort rings through my headphones, and a small smile pulls at the corner of my lips. Sunny has been one of my best friends since I moved here. We were in the same English class in sixth grade, and though I spoke English when I first got here, it wasn’t “grammatically correct,” and she is the self-appointed grammar police. What started as something I found annoying quickly turned into a game, and in turn, I ended up teaching her Spanish.

The kitchen door swings open, and in walks Lana with full drink carriers in both hands. My eyebrow hikes. Why are there so many coffees? Did I forget something? Are we taste-testing something for Maria? “I gotta go, Sunny.”

The second I say her name, Lana’s face splits in half. “SUNNY BUNNY! I MISS YOU!” she yells.

“Am I on speaker?” she asks.

“No, you’re in my headphones, and my hands are covered in dough.”

“Figures. Tell her I’ll call her in half an hour.”