Page 125 of Daddies on Ice

Jake watches them with obvious appreciation, his green eyes tracking the movement of her lips.

There’s no jealousy there, no possessiveness.

Just three people who’ve figured out how to make something unconventional work.

And here I am, sitting alone like a martyr to my own stupidity.

I miss her. God, I miss everything about her.

The way she bites her lower lip when she’s concentrating on work, leaving little indentations that I want to soothe with my tongue.

The way she feels beneath me, around me, the soft sounds she makes when I find that spot that drives her wild.

I miss the friendship we were building, the easy conversations about everything and nothing.

I miss the way she looks at me like I’m more than just another hockey player, like I’m someone worth knowing beyond the ice.

The way she responds to my touch, the way she gives herself completely when we’re together.

The memory of her hands on my body, her mouth hot and eager against mine, is enough to make me shift uncomfortably in my seat.

I even enjoy seeing Carl or Jake pleasure her because it makes her happy.

I love seeing her happy, so why am I so caught up on the fact that she wants all three of us, when it’s clear we each give her something she wants or needs?

I watch as Jake says something that makes both Tish and Carl laugh, and I realize something that hits me like a slap shot to the chest.

I’d rather have some of her than nothing at all. I’d rather share her love, her time, her body, than sit here feeling sorry for myself while she builds something beautiful with two men who were smart enough not to let their pride get in the way.

I don’t have to like sharing her at the same time, that still makes my skin crawl with possessiveness.

But I could handle taking turns.

I could handle having her to myself sometimes, knowing that other times she’d be with Carl or Jake.

It wouldn’t be ideal, but it would be better than this hollow ache in my chest.

As if sensing my thoughts, Tish looks up from the table. Our eyes meet across the length of the bus, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

I see the hurt in her dark blue eyes, the confusion and disappointment that I put there.

But underneath that, there’s something else.

Hope, maybe.

Or just the memory of what we had before I fucked it all up.

Slowly, I let a smile curve my lips. It’s tentative at first, testing the waters.

Her eyes widen in surprise, and for a heartbeat I think she might look away.

Then her own smile blooms across her face, soft and uncertain but real.

That’s all it takes. That one shared moment of understanding, of forgiveness offered and accepted.

She knows I’m done pouting, done punishing us both for something that doesn’t have to be a punishment at all.

Carl and Jake notice the exchange, following Tish’s gaze to where I sit.