Page 33 of Cross Check Daddies (Miami Icemen #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Cam

She’s still flushed and breathless when I help her stand. Tanner’s already moved to the sink, grabbing her towel, still half-dazed from what we just did. Her legs wobble when she steps down from the bed, and I catch her by the waist, steadying her.

“Shower,” I say, brushing a strand of damp hair from her cheek. “You need one. We all do.”

She groans. “You realize that boat showers are basically glorified closets?”

“Guess we better squeeze in tight,” I say, and she giggles, nudging my shoulder.

In the tiny stall, we fumble and laugh, bumping elbows, knocking shampoo bottles loose, water hitting us more sideways than down.

She’s between us, head tipped back, water cascading down her body.

My fingers slide over her waist as I lather her up.

Tanner trails kisses along her spine while I press mine to her shoulder.

“You okay?” I ask against her skin.

She turns slightly, and her smile is soft. “Better than.”

We rinse off the best we can, half-soapy, half-clean, still laughing as we dry off. Tanner hands her one of my hoodies and a pair of shorts, which she slips into without bothering to towel-dry her hair.

As we’re packing up, I glance at the empty cooler. “We need food. Real food. That wasn’t even a full breakfast earlier.”

She zips the hoodie. “I can grab Jackson and Ivy. We can hit that spot on the boardwalk.”

I raise an eyebrow. “The one with the caramel waffles?”

She nods.

Tanner’s tossing a towel over his shoulder, smirking like he knows I’m about to cave. “I’m sold.”

Brooke grins. “Besides, you haven’t met Ivy yet.”

“Looking forward to it,” Tanner says, and something about the calm way he says it makes me pause.

So we head back. I drop her off at her building, watch her jog up the stairs barefoot, then we hurry back home to get changed. When we meet at the boardwalk café, she’s already got Jackson in tow, Ivy beside her in a sundress and oversized sunglasses.

“You must be the infamous Ivy,” I say, extending a hand.

She shakes it firmly. “And you must be Cam. First love, hard to miss.”

There’s an edge of sass to her tone, but she’s smiling. Jackson runs up to me and practically leaps into my arms like he’s done it a thousand times. “Hi, Cam!”

“Hey, buddy,” I say, ruffling his curls. “You ready for waffles the size of your head?”

“Yes!”

We all sit. Ivy and Tanner hit it off immediately, trading dry humor and stories about Brooke’s old college misadventures. Brooke settles beside me, Jackson between us, stealing strawberries from her plate when he thinks she’s not looking.

It’s easy. Warm. One of those rare mornings where nothing hurts, and everything feels like it’s clicking into place.

Then he walks in.

I see the jersey first—Philadelphia Cubs colors. He’s tall, clean-shaven, built like he still wants people to think he’s twenty-six. I know who he is before I even register his face. Aaron. Her ex.

He spots us immediately.

“Hey,” he says, loud and casual as he crosses the room, the words wrapped in fake charm. “Look at this little team.”

Jackson’s face lights up. “Dad!”

He jumps up, and Aaron scoops him into a hug, lifting him briefly before setting him down. Aaron’s eyes settle on me, then flick to Tanner, then back to Brooke. “Wow. We all traded up for the Icemen, huh?”

He’s joking. But not really.

Brooke forces a tight smile. “What are you doing in Miami?”

Aaron shrugs. “Game this weekend. Cubs versus the Icemen. You didn’t hear?”

“I’ve been busy.”

He looks at her, then glances at me. “You know, no matter how many jerseys you pull on, he’s still a Cubs kid. Actually, I don’t like him hanging out with my opps. Do you mind if I take him for now? I will bring him later.”

I glance at Brooke, who’s frozen for a split second before saying, “He’s my kid. You can see him after the game if you want. Not today.”

Aaron ignores that, turning to Jackson. “Wanna come with me now? I’ve got a whole afternoon planned.”

Jackson’s face scrunches, caught between confusion and discomfort. I watch him glance between his mom and the man who calls himself his father but hasn’t earned it in years.

“No,” Brooke says again, firmer this time. “Not today.”

Aaron raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“She said no,” I cut in, keeping my tone even.

He scoffs. “Oh, so you speak for her now?”

Brooke steps forward, steady and calm, but there’s fire under every syllable. “You don’t get to show up unannounced and make decisions. The custody agreement says you notify me in advance, Aaron. Not hours before. Not showing up at restaurants and trying to play hero. That’s not how this works.”

Jackson leans into her side now, pressing his shoulder into her arm. She wraps one arm protectively around him and doesn’t break eye contact with Aaron.

“You want time with him?” she continues. “Do it the right way. Call. Coordinate. Don’t pull this ambush crap and pretend it’s parenting.”

Aaron’s smile falters, and he turns to me. “Did she ever tell you how she used to hang your trading cards on the fridge?”

My trading cards. My gut twists.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask flatly.

He shrugs. “Back when we were still pretending to be happy. She said our son should grow up knowing what real grit looks like. Her words. Not mine.”

Brooke stiffens.

My hand curls around my glass.

Aaron shrugs. “I used to think it was harmless. Then I realized she was just chasing ghosts.”

Tanner moves to shield Jackson, but Ivy is already pulling him into her lap. “Hey, bud, wanna help me with the stickers on your new notebook?” she whispers, tugging the headphones from her bag and sliding them gently over his ears. “Super quiet time, okay?”

Jackson nods, oblivious now as she hands him a juice box and lowers her voice even further.

Aaron keeps talking. “She always had a thing for broken men. Guess I just wasn’t broken enough for her to stick around.”

My jaw tightens. My whole body starts humming.

Then he adds, “But at least I gave her a real kid. Not just nostalgia.”

My fist slams into his jaw before I even register standing.

The impact sends him staggering to the edge of the booth. He catches himself, one hand going to his face. Ivy stands, half-shielding Jackson without making a scene. Tanner’s next to me in a flash, gripping my shoulder.

Aaron straightens, swiping blood from the corner of his mouth. “You think that wins you anything?” he sneers.

“No,” I bite out. “But maybe it reminds you not to run your fucking mouth in front of your son.”

Brooke’s voice slices clean through the tension. “Get out.”

Aaron’s eyes flick to Jackson—still distracted, headphones on—and back to her. “I’ll call him later.”

“Don’t bother,” she snaps.

He mutters something under his breath and leaves without another word.

Jackson peels off his headphones a minute later. “Can we go home now?”

Brooke pulls him into her lap. “Yeah, baby. Let’s get out of here.”

Ivy packs up the leftover food. Tanner’s already out the door to bring the car around. I carry Jackson, his arms looped around my neck, his head tucked in close.

He doesn’t say much, but I know this stuff sticks. It always does.

When we get back to her place, Jackson goes straight to his room without a word. Ivy and Tanner follow him, saying something about Legos and cartoons. Brooke stands in the kitchen like she’s waiting for the next blow to land. I pull her close.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.

She nods against my chest, but it’s tight. Not yet ready to let it go.

“I shouldn’t have lost it like that. I let him bait me. I scared our kid.”

She blinks.

“I have a lawyer,” I continue. “One who specializes in custody and joint parenting. Nothing’s going to happen to Jackson. Aaron doesn’t get to walk in here once a year and throw his weight around. You’re not alone in this.”

She lets out a long breath, like she’s been holding it for years. “Thank you.”

“I’ll do better,” I add. “I won’t lose control again. Not around him. Not around Jackson. Not around our baby.”

Buddy scratches at the door like he’s been listening. Jackson shuffles down the hall a minute later in his tiny sneakers, holding the leash.

“Can we take Buddy to the park?” he asks.

Brooke nods, brushing his curls back. “We can.”

We spend the next two hours on swings and monkey bars, with Buddy lapping at the water fountain and Jackson laughing. Brooke sits in the grass beside me, watching him race Tanner.

Her hand finds mine.

And even with the ache still in my knuckles and that bastard’s words echoing somewhere in my head, I know Jackson’s okay.

We are okay.

And I’ll make damn sure it stays that way.