Page 82 of Daddies on Ice

“How many followers?”

“Three thousand. The account was created yesterday.” I set the phone down, my headache intensifying. “This can’t be good.”

Tish moves closer, concussion concerns temporarily overshadowed. “What secrets could they have?”

I consider everything this season.

We’ve had relationship dynamics, media attention, enhancement drug use, our general manager caught stealing money, and personal dramas.

Any could be twisted into a bigger scandal.

“I don’t know. But I have a feeling we’re about to find out.”

The Christmas lights seem less festive now, our cozy atmosphere suddenly fragile.

Whatever storm is approaching will hit right during the holidays, when everything was beginning to feel perfect.

I look at Tish, seeing my concern reflected in her eyes, and realize our peaceful afternoon might be the calm before a very destructive storm.

28

TISH

The soft glow of Christmas lights reflects off my laptop screen as I settle into the hotel chair.

Becky’s playing with Krystal with the babysitter so we can tackle the new disaster.

Outside, snow falls in thick flakes, blanketing the city in pristine white.

The TV drones quietly, showing highlights from last night’s 3-2 victory against the Wildcats, a win that feels distant now, overshadowed by our mounting PR nightmare.

I scroll through the TikTok account Ash showed me yesterday, watching increasingly viral videos that paint the Thunderwolves in an unflattering light.

Each clip feels like another nail in our coffin.

My fingers hover over my phone as I compose a group text to Carl, Jake, and Ash.Can you all meet in Ash’s room? I have something important to discuss about our PR situation.

The responses come quickly. Jake’s immediateOn my wayis followed by Carl’s measuredGive me five minutes, and Ash’s simpleAlready here.

When I knock on Ash’s door, it opens immediately. His blonde hair is still damp from a shower, concern evident in his brown eyes as he steps aside.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” I admonish.

He grins and plops onto the bed, adjusting himself against the headboard with a slight frown.

Jake arrives moments later, his usual easy smile replaced by seriousness. “You look like you’ve been up all night,” he observes, settling on the bed’s edge.

“Close to it,” I admit, setting up my laptop on the small desk. The room’s artificial Christmas tree sits in the corner, its blue and gold ornaments matching our team colors.

Carl enters last, silver hair perfectly styled despite the late hour. He’s already dressed in khakis and a Thunderwolves polo, his coaching attire.

“What’s the emergency, Trisha?” he asks, using my full name as always. Something about how he says it makes my stomach flutter, even amid our crisis.

I turn the laptop so they can all see. “I wanted to show you this TikTok account.” I glance at Ash, who nods slightly. “It’s grown since we saw it earlier, over fifty thousand followers now.” I scroll through videos, each more damaging than the last.

Grainy footage of team members stumbling from bars, on-ice fights with dramatic music, and worst of all, testimonials frompeople claiming to be former girlfriends or employees with grudges.

“Jesus,” Jake mutters, running a hand through his hair. “When did this start?”