Page 17 of Power Play Daddies (Miami Icemen #1)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Daisy

Time slips by unnoticed as Beau keeps talking. His jaw tightens and his shoulders stiffen.

He’s trying to hold it together, but I can see it in his eyes—the pain’s still there, raw and heavy. My chest aches for him, imagining what it must’ve been like to lose everything so young.

“That’s… a lot to carry,” I say softly.

He shrugs, but it’s forced. “It’s life.”

I want to say something, anything, but nothing feels big enough to touch the weight of what he’s just shared. So, I don’t push.

“What about your career goals?” I ask, shifting the conversation. “You’ve got a lot of fans out there rooting for you. What’s next for Beau Callahan?”

His lips twitch, almost like a smile, but not quite. “Winning. Always winning. Stanley Cup’s the big one, of course. That’s the dream. But… I guess I just want to be the kind of player my dad would’ve been proud of. The kind of guy my mom would’ve bragged about to her friends.”

My throat tightens again and I blink quickly, refusing to let any tears show. “Sounds like you’re already that guy.”

His eyes flick to mine, and for a moment, it feels like the air between us shifts. He nods. “Thanks.”

The room falls quiet, and I clear my throat, breaking the silence. “Do you want to take a break?”

“Yeah, actually. Can we pick this up another time? I’ve got conditioning with Jason in a bit.” Jason is the team trainer.

“Of course.” I step closer and start unclipping the mic from his hoodie. He doesn’t move, just watches me, those sad blue eyes burning into mine.

When I finish, I set the mic on the table and glance up. “I’ll edit everything and let you have the final say before anything’s published. I promise.”

“Thanks,” he says, his voice low.

I reach out, my hand brushing his shoulder without thinking. “I know it’s dumb, but… I get it. What you’re going through.”

His brows lift. “How?”

“I’ve also lost my dad,” I say quietly, the words coming out before I can stop them.

His face softens. “Shit. I’m sorry, Daisy. Was he Coach Ace’s brother?”

“Yeah.” I hesitate, then add, “They didn’t exactly get along.”

His head tilts, curiosity flickering in his expression. “Why not?”

“It’s… complicated.” My stomach twists, but I push past it. “You can’t tell anyone, okay?”

He leans in, his voice low. “I showed you mine. You can show me yours.”

I laugh, even though it’s not funny. “All right. So, my dad and Uncle Ace were supposed to be this unstoppable duo in hockey. Both of them were talented, like, freakishly good. But Uncle Ace… he was ambitious. Too ambitious. There was this game—they were scouted by some big names, and my dad was about to score the winning goal. My uncle blocked him, took the shot himself. Ended up getting scouted, and my dad… didn’t. ”

“Damn.” Beau exhales sharply. “That’s fucked up.”

“Yeah. My dad always felt like his chance was stolen. And then, to make things worse, my mom—she was a puck bunny Uncle Ace had a thing for—ended up with my dad instead. Kind of like a petty revenge thing. My dad swore that he was always into my mother, but I think it gutted my uncle.”

Beau whistles low. “Talk about drama.”

“Right? And it only got worse. My mom left right after I was born. Didn’t even come to his funeral.”

“Shit,” he says again, shaking his head. “So, you guys don’t talk at all?”

“Yeah. Not with my mother. Definitely not with my uncle. It was always awkward. Well, until I came here.” My laugh is bitter, sharp. “But, no, I don’t talk to her. Don’t really see the point.”

The silence stretches, thick and heavy. Beau shifts closer, his gaze locking onto mine. “That’s… a lot, Daisy. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” My voice is quiet, and I force a smile. “Anyway, that’s my sob story.”

He doesn’t say anything, just reaches out and pulls me into a hug. It’s brief, just a few seconds, but it’s enough to leave me rattled.

When he steps back, his hand lingers on my arm, and for a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. My breath catches, the space between us charged with something I can’t name.

But I break the moment, stepping away quickly. “Thank you for talking to me today.”

He nods, his lips curving into a small smile. “Anytime.”

I watch him leave, the door clicking shut behind him. My breathing’s all over the place, and I press a hand to my chest, trying to steady myself.

I’m packing up the equipment when Kieran strolls in, a smug grin on his face. “Got the new camera,” he says, holding it up like it’s a trophy.

“Great,” I say, not looking up.

He steps closer, his voice dropping. “How about I take you home, fuck you, and we test it out?”

I glance at him, arching a brow. “Tempting, but I’ve got footage to review.”

He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “Damn, I was really looking forward to it.”

“Uh-huh. Soon.”

“Edging me, princess. I like it.”

“I am not edging you, I promise.” I smile, kissing him again before he leaves, a cocky chuckle echoing behind him.

When I finally get home, Slim’s waiting for me, his tail whipping furiously. I scratch behind his ears, grabbing a glass of wine before collapsing onto the couch.

I text Mason: Rain check on dinner? Something came up.

His reply is quick: No problem. Let me know when you’re free.

I set my phone down, staring at the ceiling. My mind keeps drifting back to Beau—his story, his eyes, the way he made me feel like I could tell him anything.

Slim nudges my hand, and I sigh, pulling him onto my lap. “What is it about him, huh?”

He doesn’t answer, obviously, but his warm presence is comforting. I sip my wine, the questions swirling in my mind.

What is it about Blaze Callahan that makes me want to open up every locked door in my heart?

Logan’s sitting on my couch, one leg propped over the other, skimming through the transcript I’ve been slaving over for days. My green juice sits on the counter, taunting me with its smug healthiness.

I take a sip and grimace. Kale and cucumbers were not meant to be liquified.

“Please say something,” I blurt, pacing the length of the kitchen. My nerves are a live wire, buzzing under my skin.

Logan doesn’t even look up. “Daisy, shut it. Drink your weird juice. I’m almost done.”

I glare at him, but he’s too focused on the pages to notice. Slim pads over, sniffing around for attention, and I kneel down to scratch behind his ears.

Anything to keep busy. Anything to stop my brain from spiraling.

This has to go well. Beau’s interview is the first deep dive I’ve done.

I was so stressed about it, I haven’t even started transcribing the rest of the interviews.

He approved the final version late last night, and when he added a quick, “I trust you,” it did something to me—made my stomach flip in ways it really shouldn’t.

It’s just a job , I remind myself. A damn important one, but still, just a job.

Logan whistles. My head snaps up, and I practically sprint into the living room. “What? What is it?”

He looks up at me, eyes wide. “I had no idea Beau’s family was that loaded. Like, billionaire loaded?”

“Me neither.” I shrug, though my chest tightens just thinking about how raw Beau was when he talked about them.

Logan goes quiet, scanning the pages again. I count the seconds in my head—one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three… He doesn’t look up for seven whole minutes.

“Logan!” I shout, waving my hands dramatically. “Say something before I lose my damn mind.”

He finally looks up, and my breath catches. His eyes are glassy, like he’s actually tearing up. Oh shit. Is that good? Bad?

“Oh my god, Daisy.” His voice cracks a little. “This is so good. Like, ridiculously good.”

My stomach drops. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he says, grinning now. “If I knew you were this talented, I’d have made you write my vows for Henry.”

I snort, swatting at him. “Shut up.”

“No, seriously. Janice is gonna eat this up. You crushed it.” He stands and hugs me, squeezing me tight.

I barely manage a whispered, “Thank you,” before I’m bolting for the kitchen. The stress finally catches up, and I hurl into the sink.

“Daisy!” Logan’s behind me in an instant, rubbing my back. “Jesus, calm down. You’re gonna be fine. Breathe, okay?”

I groan, rinsing my mouth out. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just nerves.”

“More like a meltdown,” he mutters. “This article has you spiraling. That is why I told you to start drinking kale juice. I swear it helps with nausea.”

“Well, I have been drinking it for two days now, and I don’t think it actually helps. I think that Reddit post lied to both of us.”

“Yikes. Okay, I’ll Google more recipes later. Hurry up and brush your teeth. We’ve got a meeting to get to.”

I roll my eyes but obey, scrubbing my teeth until the minty taste overpowers the kale juice and vomit combo.

As I rinse, I call out, “You coming to the game tonight? I’ve got an extra ticket. VIP access.”

Logan appears in the doorway, grinning. “Depends. Are you gonna introduce me to some of the players?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Henry’s gonna kill us both.”

“Eh, no one’s taking the place of my nerdy husband,” he says, smirking.

I toss my toothbrush onto the counter and grab my bag. “All right, let’s go. And you’re coming tonight. End of discussion.”

He throws his arm over my shoulder as we head out. “Fine, but you owe me nachos and a player introduction. Preferably someone hot.”

“You’re impossible,” I say, but I’m grinning now. Maybe today won’t be so bad.