Page 25 of Cross Check Daddies (Miami Icemen #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Brooke

Two months. That’s how long it’s been since everything shifted—since I stopped trying to follow a script that never fit and started living in the chaos I built with open hands and an open heart. I don’t even know what to call this anymore. It’s not traditional. It’s not polished. But it’s mine.

I’m sleeping with all three of them.

Ivy thinks I am totally crazy.

I mean, maybe she is right. I have been screwing three men who belong to the same damn team. Not together. Never like that. Each relationship is its own orbit.

Cam comes to me late, when the city’s quiet and his thoughts are loud. Tanner shows up like summer storms—unpredictable, hot, wild around the edges. Ace moves slowly. His messages always ask if I’ve eaten, if I’ve rested, if I need to scream into a pillow.

I see them at different times, never overlapping, never messy. Not one of them has pushed for exclusivity. Not one of them has made me feel like I have to explain myself.

And somehow, I’m doing the best work of my life.

GameHatch is thriving. The game is almost ready.

We hit gold last week. The team ordered champagne and cupcakes.

I didn’t cry until I was alone in my office, hands still shaking from the final code merge.

We did it. No major bugs. No dropped assets.

Every render, every voice line, every patch—it works.

My inbox is full of interest from investors and sponsorships from eSports teams that never used to give us the time of day.

The launch will make me rich. But more than that, it will make me known .

My phone buzzes with a text from Ace.

ETA 15. Want wine or snacks?

I text back.

Just bring yourself. And wear that soft blue shirt. The one that makes your arms look unfair.

Yes, ma’am.

I smile, toss my phone onto the bed, and pull my hoodie over my head. Outside, Miami glows. The city doesn’t know what I’ve done, what I’m doing, or how close I am to pulling off everything I said I would. But I know.

And tonight, I get to be held by a man who listens when I talk, laughs when I’m sharp, and kisses me like I’m a secret he never wants to give away.

Two months in, and I’ve never been more sure.

This isn’t chaos.

This is a choice.

I walk into the living room to find Jackson lying on his stomach on the rug, completely immersed in coloring a T-Rex with hot pink spikes and bright green claws.

The dinosaur book beside him is the one Tanner gave him two days ago, and it’s already bent at the corners like it’s been loved too hard.

He looks up when he hears me, holding up his masterpiece with a proud grin.

“Mom, look! This one’s got lasers.”

“Lasers?” I crouch beside him and squint. “Where exactly are the lasers?”

He points to red streaks shooting out of the dino’s eyes. “Obviously right there.”

“Right. Of course.” I ruffle his hair, kiss the top of his head, and hear Sasha’s soft footsteps behind me.

“I’m heading out,” she says, pulling her bag over her shoulder.

“Thanks, Sash.” I walk to the kitchen, tap into my banking app, and send her the transfer. “Let me know if you want to switch Saturday’s hours.”

She nods, already halfway to the door. “Got it. Tell Jackson he owes me another dance battle.”

He hears her from the living room and shouts, “I’ve been practicing!”

She laughs and closes the door behind her.

I take a breath, then wander back to my son, settling beside him on the rug.

“Hey, babe,” I start gently. “Can I ask you something?”

He looks up, marker cap clenched between his teeth. “What?”

“My friends... the ones who visit sometimes. Do you mind when they come over?”

He pauses, thinking. “You mean the ones who bring me stuff?”

My lips twitch. “Yeah. Those ones.”

He shrugs. “They always bring me treats. Superman Tanner has toys for Buddy. Cam brought me the goalie gloves. And Coach Ace lets me ride on his shoulders. I like them.”

I lean back, studying his face. “You’re okay with them coming over sometimes?”

He nods like it’s no big deal, like this thing I’ve worried about is just a simple truth he already made peace with. “They like you. And they let me pick what movie we watch.”

I smile, ruffling his hair again. “You’re the coolest kid in the world.”

“I know.”

“You up for another hockey game next week?”

“Yay!” He punches the air, then goes back to his coloring like I didn’t just hand him the golden ticket.

I’m about to ask if he wants to help me set the table when I hear the knock. I stand, already smiling, expecting to see Ace in that soft blue shirt I asked for.

But when I open the door, it’s not him. It’s Ivy.

She’s wearing a dark suit, wrinkled from the day, and her mascara’s smudged, trailing faint streaks down her cheeks. Her lower lip is trembling, even as she tries to hold it together.

“I lost the case,” she whispers. I know she has been working on this wrongful termination case for months, hoping that it would give her an edge at her track to becoming partner.

“Oh, babe,” I breathe, stepping forward and pulling her into a hug. Her body folds against mine like it’s been bracing all day. “Come in.”

She leans her head on my shoulder for a second before pulling back, frantically wiping at her face. “How do I look?”

“Like you just won a war,” I say softly. “Perfect.”

Her mouth lifts in a grateful half-smile. She takes a breath, steels her spine, then steps inside like she didn’t just shatter five minutes ago.

“Hey, kiddo,” she says.

Jackson jumps up. “Ivy!”

He launches himself into her arms, and she laughs as she catches him, spinning him once. “You’re getting tall. I swear, last time I saw you, you were shorter than your bulldog.”

“I’m coloring,” he announces, grabbing her hand and dragging her to the living room.

“I’ll get us wine,” I call, already heading to the kitchen.

I pour her a glass of red, the good bottle I was saving for the launch party, and grab Jackson a juice box. I hand Ivy her glass, and she takes it with both hands like she’s been holding her breath all week.

I’m contemplating texting Ace to reschedule. Not because I don’t want to see him, but because Ivy’s my person. When she breaks, I show up.

Then there’s another knock.

Shit.

Ivy lifts an eyebrow. “One of your boy toys?”

“What’s a boy toy?” Jackson asks, immediately interested.

I shoot her a look sharp enough to slice steel while redirecting Jackson’s attention to his coloring page.

“I think that page needs a new blue T-Rex,” I say fast. “That red’s getting jealous.”

He nods seriously and leans back into the chaos of crayon art.

I open the door.

Ace stands there, blue shirt, pizzas in one hand, six-pack of beer in the other.

“Hey, beautiful,” he says.

I lean in to kiss him. His lips are soft, warm, familiar now. The kiss deepens before I even mean for it to. My fingers reach for his shirt, the smell of his cologne curling around me.

But then I hear the slight throat-clearing behind me.

Ace pulls back, eyes scanning my face. “What’s wrong?”

“I am,” Ivy says from behind me.

He looks past me, and she steps forward, a little stiff but holding her wine like it’s a shield. “I’m Ivy. You must be Ace.”

He shifts the pizzas into one hand and offers the other to her. “That’s me.”

She takes the boxes from him, nodding once.

“Well, now that we’ve met... come in for dinner and let me interrogate you for the fun of it.”

Ace glances at me, amused.

I step aside and let him in, already trying to calculate how this night just got more complicated—and somehow even better.