Page 59 of Daddies on Ice

His eyes flick toward me then, and the look makes my breath catch.

For a moment, I forget the chaos, the plan, the mess Jake has dragged us into.

For a moment, it’s just Carl, a husband remembering the woman he loved.

But the softness doesn’t last. His expression hardens, the weight of memory shuttered behind the steel I know too well. He straightens, voice shifting back to business.

“In two days, we have our next game,” he says flatly. “That’s the perfect opportunity for you and Jake to show you’re a couple.”

The words hit like a slap. No warning, no gentle lead-in. Just the reminder that whatever tenderness he carries, he’ll always put the team first.

20

CARL

The buzz of the arena hits me the second Krystal and I step inside.

The air smells like popcorn and ice, like the faint tang of sweat and the sharp edge of cold that seeps up from the rink.

She’s practically skipping beside me, her mittened hands stuffed in her coat pockets, a grin stretched wide across her face.

She’s been to more hockey games than she can count, but tonight feels different. Tonight she’s not just here for the Thunderwolves.

She’s here to sit with Becky and Trisha, to share what she knows, to feel like she’s part of something bigger than just Grandpa’s team.

And god, seeing her this happy, it’s worth every sacrifice I’ve ever made.

We reach the section where Trisha and her daughter are waiting. Becky bounces in her seat, waving frantically when she spots Krystal.

Trisha stands behind her, steadying her daughter with a hand on her shoulder, smiling in that soft, quiet way of hers.

She’s bundled up in a knit hat and a scarf, but even in the heavy winter clothes, she’s beautiful. Too beautiful.

Krystal hugs me quickly before climbing the steps to them.

She plops down beside Becky, already talking a mile a minute about the lineup and who to watch for on the ice.

Becky listens with wide eyes, hanging on every word.

Trisha glances down at me, her cheeks pink from the cold, her eyes crinkling when she smiles. It’s not meant to gut me, but it does.

I give her a small nod, then force myself to turn back and head toward the bench. I’m the coach. I’ve got a game to win.

But the second I look away, I want to look back.

The first period gets underway, and our guys are skating like they mean it. We’re sharp, passing clean, taking shots that actually count. It’s exactly the kind of start I hoped for.

And yet, I keep glancing behind me, stealing glimpses of Trisha. I tell myself I’m just checking on Krystal, making sure she’s settled. That’s the excuse. The truth is, I can’t seem to help myself.

Every time I see Trisha tuck a strand of hair behind her ear or laugh at something Krystal says, I feel that tug in my chest again.

Stronger, heavier.

She’s not just a woman in the stands. She’s not just Becky’s mom. She’s…more.

What is it about her?

I’ve spent years trying to keep my life in check, trying to be steady for Krystal, for the team, for myself.