Page 34 of Crack the Ice

The energy in the room shifts, excitement passing through all of us like a livewire. Kait breaks the silence, talking a mile a minute. “That’s an amazing idea. I doubt Lily would have a problem with it. Cade might. But it could be good for him, seeing all the guys get into it. They talk about their feelings a hell of a lot more at book club than anywhere else. Could be therapeutic.”

“I like it,” Lettie says, propping Cam up on her hip. He’s three now, and has earned himself the title of “threenager.” A mouthy little shit. I imagine his dad was the same way at that age, though. His meaty little hands land on her cheeks, turning her head so she’s looking at him. “Si, mi amor?”⁠*

He puts his thumb and fingers together, creating that little wedge shape with his hand while he touches his lips with it. “Tengo hambre.”⁠*

I love that she’s teaching them Spanish. Between her, my brother, and me, all these little nuggets will speak it eventually. “¿Quieres un poco de pan?”⁠* I point to the cooled bread, so he knows what I’m talking about.

He nods, but before I give it to him, I look at Lettie. “Is that okay?”

“Of course, he doesn’t have any allergies, and if he doesn’t eat something, I fear the house will resemble a war zone before the actual food is ready. He ate all the snacks I brought with me.” She huffs out a laugh. “I don’t know where the kid puts it, takes after his dad in the metabolism department, I guess.”

I grab a piece and put it on a paper plate, handing it to Lettie before she goes back to the couch so he can eat without holding him. “Gimme Mia, you’ve got enough to do.” She calls once she gets Cam settled.

“I like the book idea, Cecy.” Abby comes around my side, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. “Maybe something fantasy, or should we do romance? Do they have young adult romance?” She looks at Kait, who nods.

“Yeah, there’s no spice in it and the MCs are usually younger.” She pulls up her phone, fingers flying across the screen until she’s on some website with a list of young adult romance covers on it.

“Listen, I’m all for reading about a good dicking, but not with a twelve and sixteen-year-old present.” Abby takes her arm off my shoulder and grabs Kait’s phone, scrolling through the list of books. “Oh, this one looks good. It’s called Fake Skating. The guys would probably get a kick out of that. A young adult hockey romance, that makes them what, high schoolers?”

“Usually. I’ve heard that one is good, but I haven’t read it.” Kait holds out her hand, and Abby places her phone back in it. “I’d love to hear about their time as high school hockey players. That sounds mighty entertaining.”

My mind drifts back to my own high school years. Mav graduated when I was a freshman. We didn’t go to the same high school, but that didn’t stop me from stealing his sweatshirts when I was at his house. At first, it was an accident. I fell into their pool-well, fell is a generous term. Lake all but tackled me into it, but I digress. I didn’t have any clothes with me, so I borrowed some of Lana’s pants, and Mav gave me his sweatshirt.

It smelled like him, and man, did he let Lake have it for not being more careful. I’m not the greatest swimmer, but that little fact gets worse when there’s a guy way taller than you with his arms wrapped around your waist, controlling when and if you’ll ever breathe again. It felt like hours went by before he finally let go, and I kicked my heart out, gasping for air the second I broke the surface.

I don’t know how he was at school, but I like to think he was the same Mav I knew. Not a player, down to earth, family driven. Then again, sometimes I feel like I don’t know him at all. But I do know my brother, and I know how he was during that time. I cringe, looking over at my sister-in-law. “Yeah, I don’t know that you’d be a fan of those particular stories…”

Abby throws her hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh as the oven timer beeps. I busy myself by taking the foil off the top of the dish and making sure everything looks to be cooking right. When I’m satisfied, I put it back in without the foil covering and set the timer for one more round.

“He was a man whore, wasn’t he?” Kait asks as my brother flies down the ice.

I grab her hand with my own, squeezing a few times. “You already know the answer to that. He ignored the damage the crash did to him for a long time, Kait. He tried just about everything he could think of, but that hole could have only ever been filled by you.”

“I know.” She squeezes back. “I do, but I still get insecure sometimes. I mean he’s him, and I’m… me.”

“Yeah, and you’re freaking awesome. I couldn’t have hand-picked a better woman for him myself. Don’t sell yourself short, Kaitlyn Samuels. You’re a rockstar, own it.”

Her head falls to my shoulder. “Thanks, Cecy. I’m glad you’re my sister now, too.”

Me too, girl. Me too.

* my little star

* Yes, my love?

* I’m hungry

* Do you want a little piece of bread?

TWELVE

MAVERICK

I remember the day my mom told us about her diagnosis like it was yesterday. It was February eleventh. We’d made it to the final round of playoffs my sophomore year of high school, and I’d sucked ass the rest of the season. My coach didn’t understand. I didn’t tell him. Not until the end, right before she died my senior year.

He told me I was a dumbass for keeping that to myself, but there was one thing he told me my junior year that stuck with me forever: “You may be the Captain, Maverick. But you’re not invincible, and you’re not irreplaceable. If your head isn’t right off the ice, it’ll be infinitely harder to be the man these guys need on it.”

I don’t think those words have ever rang truer than they are right now. My mind is pulled between my team, the bullshit that has been this game, two kids who lost their mom, and a woman hellbent on ignoring me when all I want to do is push her up against a wall and kiss the hesitation right out of her.