Page 32

I ’ve been in this game long enough to know when a player’s head isn’t in it.

Unfortunately, today, that player is me.

Practice is sharp. The drills are clean. The guys are dialed in. I should be, too.

But I’m not.

Because no matter how many times I tell myself to focus, my mind keeps drifting to Kenzie.

The way she pressed into me. The way her laugh hit me right in the chest. The way she looked at me—like I was something solid. Something real.

Something she wanted to keep.

I should have left it at that.

Instead, I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours grappling with a truth I wasn’t ready to admit.

I’m in love with her.

And it’s unraveling every part of me.

“Yo, Coach!”

I snap back to reality just in time to see a puck flying straight at me.

I catch it mid-air—barely.

Jake skates up, smirking. “Nice reflexes, old man.”

I shoot him a look. “That come from you or Kingston?”

“Not me,” Kingston calls from across the ice. “But I was thinking it.”

I exhale, pinching the bridge of my nose. This team is going to be the death of me.

Jake rests his stick against his hip, eyes narrowing slightly. “You good?”

I roll my shoulders. “Yeah. Why?”

He snorts. “Because you were about three seconds from getting clocked in the head with a puck, and your usual scowl is running at half capacity.”

Kingston skates over, nodding. “Yeah, it’s unsettling.”

I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’m fine.”

Jake and Kingston exchange a look that I do not like.

“You know,” Kingston says, too casually, “Kenzie looked pretty happy when she left the rink the other day.”

My jaw ticks. The guys know.

Kingston lets out a low whistle. “Damn. Must be nice being so cozy with a great girl like her.”

That’s it. I’m going to murder him.

I level them both with a glare. “You two done?”

Jake just smirks. “I didn’t say a word.”

Kingston skates backward, chuckling. “I give him two more practices before he breaks and tells us how in love he is.”

I grunt. “Not happening.”

Jake lifts a brow. “Sure, Coach.”

They skate off, leaving me annoyed as hell and, unfortunately, still thinking about her.

Because they’re not wrong. I turn and head to my office. I shut the door to my office and exhale hard.

Practice was a disaster. Not for the team—for me.

I’m usually locked in, focused, unshakable.

But today?

Today, I was sloppy. Distracted. And the reason is currently burning a hole through my skull.

I sit at my desk, leaning forward, pressing my hands against my temples.

I need to get my head straight. Need to figure out what the hell I’m doing.

Because whatever this thing with Kenzie started as? It’s not that anymore.

I knew it the second I woke up and missed her before I even realized she was gone.

I knew it when I caught her in my kitchen, wearing my shirt, looking at me like I was something she wasn’t ready to lose.

I know it now.

I love her.

The words settle in my chest like a weight. Heavy. Final.

I love her.

And the worst part?

I have no idea what the hell to do about it.

I want to keep her close. Forever.

And that? That terrifies me.

Because what if I can’t?

What if I screw this up like I’ve screwed up other things? That fight in the locker room? Sure I was just responding to the guy who threw the first punch, but now it’s part of my reputation. My divorce? Sure, she was done with our marriage a year before the divorce, but that’s also part of my reputation.

What if I’m not enough?

I rub my hands down my face, exhaling hard.

I don’t have a game plan.

I don’t know how to win this.

I don’t know how to play this.

I just know that if I lose her…

I’m screwed.

My phone sits face-up on my desk. Kenzie’s name at the top.

I’ve been staring at it for five minutes.

Five minutes of debating. Five minutes of gripping the edge of my desk like it might keep me from making a really big mistake.

I should call her.

I want to call her.

But what the hell would I even say?

Hey, Kenz. Just figured I’d let you know that I completely lost my head at practice today because I can’t stop thinking about you, and oh yeah, I’m pretty damn sure I’m in love with you.

Yeah. That’ll go over well.

I rub my hand down my face, groaning.

I don’t do this. I don’t sit around second-guessing my own goddamn emotions.

But Kenzie isn’t just some passing thought.

She’s under my skin.

And the fact that I’m sitting here, debating whether I should call her like a damn teenager? That’s all the proof I need.

I swipe my phone off the desk. My thumb hovers over her name.

One call.

That’s all it would take.

One call to hear her voice, to feel grounded again, to maybe, just maybe, tell her—

I stop.

Because if I do this, it has to be real.

Not just some impulse. Not just because I miss her right now.

If I call her, if I say what I’m thinking, I have to back it up with action.

I don’t want to give her words.

I want to give her something real.

I exhale, grip tightening around my phone.

Then, slowly, I set it back down.

Not today.

But soon.

Soon.

***

Later in the evening, Olivia is curled up on the couch, half-asleep against my side, clutching her stuffed bunny.

It’s our usual wind-down routine—a quiet night after a long day. Just the two of us.

Normally, it’s enough to settle me. To make everything feel right.

But tonight?

Tonight, my mind is somewhere else.

Or rather—with someone else.

I can still see Kenzie’s smile. Still hear her laugh. Still feel the way my chest tightened when I left her this morning.

And it’s in this moment—sitting here, holding my daughter, thinking about Kenzie—that I realize something.

It’s not just that I love her.

It’s that she fits.

She fits in my life. In my world. In this.

She’s not something separate. Not something I have to keep away from Olivia or compartmentalize into a different part of my life.

She’s already part of it.

And that? That’s the moment that seals it for me.

“Daddy?”

I glance down. Olivia’s voice is thick with sleep, her little fingers grasping onto my sleeve.

“Yeah, baby?”

Her eyelids flutter. “You seem happy.”

My breath catches.

She says it so simply. So easily. Like it’s just a fact.

I swallow. “I guess I am.”

Olivia hums, snuggling deeper into my side.

And just like that, I know.

There’s no backing out.

There’s no pretending this is temporary.

Kenzie is it.

For me.

For us.

For everything.

And now?

I just have to tell her.