Page 9

Chapter 9

Sophie

A t this point, I could draw a map for every footstep from the Blades' practice rink to the vending machines.

I’ve crossed that particular path no less than twenty times in the past week, trying to stay awake during these late-night practice sessions.

Turns out "shadowing" means "being present for every possible moment of training", including the unofficial after-hours sessions that Evan runs with Ryland.

Not that I'm complaining.

These nighttime practices have become my favorite part of the day, when the facility is quiet except for the sound of skates on ice and Evan's low voice offering corrections and encouragement.

"Going for another coffee run?" Ryland calls from the ice, where he's setting up for shooting drills.

"Some of us weren't built for vampire hours," I call back, trying not to trip over my own feet as I navigate the darkened hallway. "Not everyone can run on pure hockey energy and uncle-mandated protein shakes."

"The shakes aren't that bad!"

"They taste like chocolate-flavored regret."

Evan's deep chuckle echoes across the ice, and I definitely don't get a little thrill from making him laugh. Definitely not.

"Bring me back a…" Ryland starts.

"Blue Gatorade and peanut butter crackers," I finish. "I know your stress snacks by now, Daniels."

This time both Daniels men laugh, and I hide my smile as I head for the vending machines. It's taken weeks, but I'm finally starting to feel like they trust me. Like I'm not just the reporter shadowing their practices, but someone who...

Well. Someone who belongs here, maybe.

I'm debating between regular coffee and something called "extreme caffeine blast" in the machine when I hear it—the unmistakable sound of small feet running down the hallway.

"Daddy! Uncle Ry!"

Natalia Daniels bursts past me like a tiny tornado in a pink hockey jersey, her dark ponytail flying behind her. She's followed by a harried-looking Julia, who offers me an apologetic smile.

"She wouldn't go to sleep until she showed them her new move," Julia explains, slightly out of breath. "Said it couldn't wait until morning."

"At..." I check my phone. "Nine forty-five on a school night?"

"She's definitely her father's daughter."

We make our way back to the rink, where Natalia is already on the ice, fully geared up. How she managed to change so fast is beyond me, but then again, she is a Daniels.

"Watch this!" she calls out, skating backward with the kind of grace that makes me deeply jealous. "Coach Thompson taught us today, and I got it on the first try!"

I expect Evan to send her home, to remind her about school tomorrow and proper sleep schedules.

Instead, he skates over to center ice and sets up a puck. "Show me."

The look on his face—soft and proud and so different from his usual stoic expression—makes my heart do funny things in my chest.

"They’re cute together, huh?" Julia murmurs beside me.

"Adorable." I busy myself with my notebook, though I haven't written anything in it for hours. "Just...observing. For the feature."

"Mmhmm." She sounds exactly like Cynthia when she's calling me out on my BS. "And does the feature require you to know my brother's coffee order and snack preferences?"

"That's just good journalism."

"Is it good journalism to wear his old practice jersey to bed?"

I whip around to stare at her. "How did you…"

"Cynthia might have mentioned it when she dropped off those brownies last week."

I should have never let Cynthia have contact with the Daniels’. Note to self: Kill roommate. Slowly.

"It's comfortable," I mutter, turning back to watch Natalia demonstrate what appears to be some kind of spin move. "And it was free."

"It has his number on it."

"Pure coincidence."

"Sophie." Julia's voice softens. "It's okay, you know. To care about him. To want…"

"Look!" I cut her off maybe a bit too loudly. "Natalia's doing the thing!"

The "thing" turns out to be a surprisingly complex maneuver involving a stick-handling fake-out that ends with a neat little backhand shot. Natalia executes it perfectly, then beams up at her father and uncle.

"Did you see? Did you see what I did?"

"Not bad, squirt," Ryland says, ruffling her hair. "But can you do it while someone's defending?"

"Try me!"

What follows is possibly the most adorable game of keep-away I've ever witnessed. Ryland plays defense while Natalia attempts her move, with Evan offering pointers from the goal.

"Keep your head up," he calls out. "Watch his stick, not his feet. That's it. Now fake left..."

Natalia's face screws up in concentration, her small form darting around Ryland's much larger one. She tries the move once, twice, three times before…

"Yes!” She throws her arms up as the puck slides past Ryland. "Did you see that, Daddy? I got past Uncle Ry!"

"Sure did, baby." Evan's voice is warm in a way I've never heard before. "Want to try it on goal?"

Her big brown eyes go wide. "Really? But you never let me shoot on you during practice!"

"Special occasion." He winks at her. "Not every day my girl masters a new move."

I'm not crying. I just have...ice dust in my eyes. Is ice dust a thing?

"You're staring again," Julia whispers.

“You’re reading too much into just a look,” I whisper back, but there's no heat in it.

Because I am staring. How can I not?

Evan Daniels, the big bad goalie, is letting his daughter score on him while Ryland cheers her on.

He's smiling—really smiling, not just that slight uptick of his lips he sometimes gets during our coffee...meetings.

"He's different with them," Julia says softly. "This is who he really is, when he's not trying so hard to protect everyone."

"I'm starting to see that."

Natalia scores—definitely not because Evan lets her—and immediately launches into what can only be described as a victory dance.

"Sophie! Did you see?" She skates over to the boards where we're standing. "Did you get that on camera? Can it go in Uncle Ry's story?"

"Actually..." I glance at Evan, who gives me a small nod. "Want to show me that move again? This time I'll film it properly."

"Yes!" She punches the air. "Can I wear my jersey with the 'C' on it? Since I'm going to be captain someday?"

"Natalia," Julia warns, "it's already way past your bedtime."

"But Auntie Julia…”

"Tell you what," I cut in, "how about we save the captain footage for your next roller hockey game? I heard you have a big one coming up..."

"Saturday!" She bounces on her skates. "Are you coming? Daddy said you might come! You can film me there! I'm playing goalie like him!"

I feel Evan's eyes on me as I answer. "Wouldn't miss it."

"Yes!" More bouncing. "Can we get ice cream after like last time?"

"Only if you go home right now and go straight to bed," Evan says, skating over. "Deal?"

"Deal!" She launches herself at him for a hug, nearly knocking him over despite his size. "Love you, Daddy. Love you, Uncle Ry!"

"Love you too, squirt," they chorus, and oh look, more ice dust in my eyes.

Julia manages to herd Natalia off the ice and toward the locker room, leaving me alone with the Daniels men.

"Sorry about that," Evan says, though he doesn't look sorry at all. "She's...enthusiastic."

"Wonder where she gets that from," Ryland mutters, earning himself a face wash from his uncle.

I watch them roughhouse on the ice, these two grown men who just spent twenty minutes making a little girl's whole week. Who somehow manage to be both tough hockey players and the softest family men I've ever met.

"Sophie?" Evan's voice breaks through my thoughts. "You okay?"

"Yeah." I blink quickly, hoping he can't see how moved I am by all this. "Just...thinking about the feature."

"Right." Is it my imagination, or does he sound disappointed? "The feature."

"Speaking of," Ryland says with extremely suspicious timing, "I should go call my agent. You know, about...agent things."

"It's after ten," Evan points out.

"Time zones! She's in...somewhere. With a different time." He starts skating backward toward the exit. "You two crazy kids have fun!"

And then it’s just the two of us.

"So," I say, trying to sound like an expert and probably failing miserably. "That move Natalia did..."

"Sophie." Evan skates closer, stopping right in front of where I'm standing at the boards. "You don't have to pretend everything is for the feature."

"I don't?" My voice comes out embarrassingly breathless.

"No." He reaches out, tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "You don't."

The moment stretches between us, full of possibility. His hand lingers near my face, and I find myself leaning into his touch...

"Daddy! I forgot my lucky socks!"

We jump apart as Natalia's voice echoes from the hallway.

"Coming!" Evan calls back, then looks at me apologetically. "I should..."

"Go," I say softly. "It's fine. I need to pack up anyway."

He nods and skates away, leaving me to press my suddenly burning face against the cool glass of the boards.

Well. That was...

That was definitely something.

My phone buzzes with a text.

Julia: Still just observing for the feature? ??

Me: I never should have given you my personal number .

Julia: No you shouldn’t have. See you Saturday! Don't forget to wear your Daniels jersey.

I groan and let my head thunk against the glass again.

Because here's the thing about spending late nights watching Evan Daniels be an amazing uncle and father…

It makes it really hard to remember why falling for him is a terrible idea. Especially when he looks at me like that. Especially when he touches me like that. And especially when he makes me want to be part of those family moments, not just document them.

My phone buzzes again.

Evan: Drive safe. Text me when you get home.

And maybe Julia's right. Maybe it's okay to want more than just the feature.

Maybe it's okay to want...everything.

Even if everything comes with a nine-year-old tornado who never sleeps and a grumpy goalie who thinks everyone is out to get him.