Page 14 of Cross Check Daddies (Miami Icemen #3)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Cam

The sun spills through the kitchen window, warm against my bare chest as I slice into a fresh pineapple. Salt and citrus cling to the air, along with the scent of seared steak on the grill pan.

Days off don’t come often, especially not when you work behind the scenes of a professional hockey team, so I’m determined to enjoy this one. I flip the meat, pressing it down with the back of the tongs when I hear the front door open.

Boots drop. Gear hits the floor. “Hey,” Tanner says.

“Didn’t think you’d be home this early,” I call out, tossing the tongs into the sink.

He walks into the kitchen, sweaty from practice, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt. “Coach sent us home early. GameHatch meeting or whatever. Said to clear the space.”

“Ah.” I hand him a beer without asking. He takes it and leans against the counter, broody as hell.

I glance over. “You planning to glower all day or just until that beer kicks in?”

“I’m not glowering,” he mutters.

“Sure. And I’m not making you a steak.” I turn back to the food, trying not to press.

He takes a slow sip. “Can I ask you something?”

I nod.

“We haven’t talked about Brooke being back.”

Her name lands like a stone dropped in still water, and that old ache stretches out beneath my ribs. I clear my throat. “We’ve seen each other. Talked things out.”

“Yeah?” His eyes don’t meet mine.

“Yeah.” I want to leave it at that, but something in his voice makes me pause.

He sets the bottle down. “I’m heading up to take a nap.”

“Don’t forget your protein,” I say. He gives me a faint nod and disappears down the hall.

I watch the doorway after he’s gone, then slide into the quiet space between memory and hunger. Brooke in high school, always sketching logos on the back of her notebooks, dreaming up names for companies that didn’t exist yet.

Damn, she was magnetic. Ambitious as hell. But softer too, before the world had time to burn that lightness out of her. I was convinced she was it for me. The kind of girl who could rewrite your entire sense of self just by looking at you like you were worth something.

Even now, after everything, I still think about how she kissed me before my senior championship, her hands on either side of my face like I was made of something rare.

Though I’ve tried to date since, gone out with women who were beautiful and smart, none of them ever made me feel like I mattered the way she did.

And maybe I never stopped believing she was the one.

I finish up cooking and then plate the steaks.

I carry the plate upstairs, knock on his door, and say, “I made you one. No excuses.”

He doesn’t answer at first, but the door opens anyway. “Finish that before you take a nap,” I tell him before heading down.

I think about Brooke as I devour my own food.

We were kids back then. Stupid, maybe. Naive for sure.

But that girl had my full attention. The first time I saw her sketch something on the back of a napkin, just playing around with character designs, I remember thinking, I’m going to love her forever.

She had that spark. That edge. And I was just a boy with a hockey stick and a dream.

We were never supposed to work, but for a while, we did.

After the game launch, I’ll ask her out. Just coffee. Just to talk. We’ve both grown up. She’s not the same girl, and I’m not the same dumb kid who let her go.

I clean up the dishes, throw on a tee, and knock on Tanner’s door. He has been a little distant, and I just want to make sure he is okay. “Let’s hit the beach,” I say. “We’ve got boards.”

He grunts something about being tired, but ten minutes later, we’re loading the boards into the back of the truck and driving with the windows down.

We don’t talk much during the ride. Not until we’re paddling out past the break, carving waves like we used to. There’s something about surfing that scrapes you clean. Clears the noise out of your head. It’s muscle memory, rhythm, and timing, the water carrying all your mess somewhere farther out.

After an hour of riding the swells, we collapse on the sand with wet hair and sun-warmed skin. Tanner sprawls back, breathing steady, legs stretched out in front of him. I go grab us two cones from the shack across the way, hand him his, and plop down beside him.

He licks at the melting vanilla. “Thanks.”

“Talk to me,” I say, watching a couple of kids wipe out on a too-high wave. “You’re all weird today.”

He sighs. “I like someone.”

“Okay…”

“She’s someone I probably shouldn’t like.”

I glance at him. “Why not?”

He shrugs. “It’s complicated.”

“Most worthwhile things are.” I toss a pebble toward the waterline. “Is she seeing someone else?”

“No.”

“Married?”

“No.”

“Then why can’t you like her?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His jaw works as he stares out at the waves. I study him, my little brother who used to follow me around with his helmet too big and his stick dragging behind him. Who fought his way onto this team like a damn soldier. Whatever this is, it’s got him twisted up good.

“Sometimes,” I say, “you’ve got to go after the person you want before the chance disappears.”

He looks over. “What if it ends up being a mess?”

“Then it’s a mess.” I take a bite of my cone. “At least you went for it.”

His brow lifts. “You sound like a poster.”

I grin. “You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.”

“Oh my God, you’re quoting The Office again.”

“Wayne Gretzky first,” I shoot back, laughing. “Michael Scott just made it iconic.”

Tanner shakes his head, but he’s smiling now, just a little. “You’re such a dad.”

“I’m the cool uncle,” I correct. “And I’m serious. You’ll regret it more if you don’t try.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I lean back on my elbows, staring up at the pale blue sky. “You know how I got this limp?”

“You’ve told me.”

“I’ll tell you again. Stanley Cup finals. Third period…”

“You shattered your foot blocking a shot, then kept playing.”

“Damn right. Couldn’t skate the same after that. But we won. And I wouldn’t trade it.”

He nods, silent now, ice cream forgotten in his hand.

“I miss playing,” I admit, softer now. “Every day. But I get to be part of this team. I help shape it. That matters too.”

Tanner looks at me like he’s really hearing it.

“What I’m saying is this. Take the damn shot. Even if it wrecks something, even if it’s messy. At least you’ll know.”

He nods. “Thanks, bro.”

He stands, shaking out sand and slinging the board under his arm. I watch him walk toward the water to rinse off, tall and athletic, full of promise and that restlessness I recognize all too well.

I stay seated, finishing the cone. In the hush of the late afternoon, I think about Brooke.

About the way she used to fall asleep with her head on my chest, the quiet sound of her breathing syncing with mine.

The way she used to look at me, like she knew every part of me and still liked what she saw.

I’ll take my own advice eventually. I will. Just not today.

For now, I live off memory and the ache she left behind.