Page 32 of Crack the Ice

“We’re ready!” Lily sings.

“What’d you get?” Cecilia asks, turning toward the little blonde girl bouncing on the balls of her feet between us.

“Dunkaroos, obviously. But also some cookies. They’re a safe bet for all the boring people: some cookies and cream cupcakes, and a couple guava ones. You know, for options.”

The admiration shining in Cecilia’s eyes as she watches Lily would knock me on my ass if I weren’t already sitting. “That’s great. What about you, big man?” I ask Cade over the top of Cecilia’s head.

He raises a bag, shaking it a bit before answering. “Muffins.” Damn, the kid’s about as talkative as a nun in the morning.

“I should get them to school. It was nice seeing you, Dilly.” Pushing up from my chair, I squeeze Cecilia’s shoulder before heading out the door.

“Reed,” Lily says, wrapping her hand around mine and swinging it between us. “Is Cecy okay? She seemed uncomfortable with that lady. Should we have left her?”

“She doesn’t like interviews, so she’s probably a little uncomfortable, but we’ve known Dylan for as long as we’ve known you.”

“You ever going to tell her you’re in love with her?” Cade asks as I pull the back door of my car open.

My brow cocks at his brazenness. “What are you talking about?”

“My dad used to look at my mom the same way you look at her. I didn’t know chicken shit was your style.”

I blow out a breath, unbelievable. Kids are so perceptive, and I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a liar. “It’s complicated.”

He looks at me the way only an exasperated sixteen-year-old can. “Then uncomplicate it, Reed. You’re the captain for a reason. You get things done.”

“Yeah, buddy, I do.” I shut the back door, blocking the rest of this conversation from Lily. “But she isn’t a thing, and there’s a bunch of history there. I’m working on it though.”

“Pussy,” he mumbles, hopping into the front seat and pulling the door closed behind him. I stare at him through the window for a brief second. I should say something. I should tell him to watch his language, but I can’t, because he’s not wrong. My disbelieving laugh is the only sound as I round the hood of my car. Holy shit, kids are brutal.

I put the car in reverse and pull out of the parking lot feeling both convicted and hopeful. Her words and the words of my lawyer swirl in my head, battling for which one is more important right this second. My mind says the kids, my heart says Cecilia, but then comes a whisper.

She’s the answer to both.

ELEVEN

CECILIA

“Kait!” I shriek, running across the kitchen. “You’re going to burn it again.” This has been our thing this season. Markus and the guys go away for games, all the girls get together at someone’s house, and we cook dinner. And by we, I mean me because Hannah, Abby, and Lettie all have children to watch, and Kait is about as useful in the kitchen as an inflatable dart board.

“I’m sorry, I got distracted.” She points to the TV where my brother throws his helmet down on the ice, getting in the ref’s face while Mav and Lucas try to pull him back.

“What happened?” I ask, stirring the hamburger meat that’s supposed to be going in our meat sauce for lasagna, but, at this point, it might be a little crispy.

“Some dude on the Hurricanes hit Wilson from behind. His head bounced off the glass before he went down. He’s got to be checked for a concussion now,” Abby says. How she deals with watching the men she’s partly responsible for keeping in game day shape get hit like this, I will never know.

“Come on, Casanova. Don’t get yourself thrown out,” Kait whispers. Her hands clasped together under her chin.

“They didn’t give the guy a penalty for it,” Lettie adds. “He’s obviously not too happy about that.”

He never is. My brother may have calmed down significantly since marrying Kait, but the righteous anger he feels when someone hurts the people he cares about is honestly one of my favorite things about him.

Mav skates up in front of him, putting his hand in the middle of his chest. His eyebrows raise at what I’m assuming are colorful words spewing from my brother’s mouth, and he slowly pushes him back. Markus blinks, bending to pick up his helmet before nodding at Mav, who is still positioned between my brother and the ref. Always the peacekeeper.

The timer for the lasagna noodles goes off, and I pour them into the colander in the sink. “Can you check the bread, Kait? Please?” I ask, not wanting to leave the meat for long.

The sauce is done, the noodles are done, and if the bread is done, then I can start layering this in the pan since the oven is already on. The heat from the open oven hits me in the back of the legs, and I turn to make sure it’s not burnt.

“Perfect, pull that out?” She reaches for the pan, and I hiss. “With oven mitts, Jesus. I don’t need my brother going all caveman on me because you were distracted by his face on TV.”