Page 11 of Skating Towards Danger

“I’m fine, Morg,” I reply and she raises a pointed brow, but I ignore it and ask, “Did you see the delight on your daughter's face when I blew her a kiss?”

The cut on my brow is instantly forgotten. She melts, her eyes softening at my words, and she mumbles, “That is probably because you are her favorite person in the world.”

I grin and admit, “And I’m Damians, even though he’s only one, and I’ll be that little one’s too,” as I point at her growing stomach, and she chuckles, “Yeah, yeah, go get showered so I can sort your eye out. Then you can go make Emma’s day before you go off and celebrate with the team.”

With a grin, I quickly kiss her cheek before doing as I’m told, knowing she’ll kick my ass if I don’t.

I’m man enough to admit I’m scared of her a little bit.

I wave to the fans as I go while purposely ignoring Amy, who presses her fake tits that are barely covered in her tank top up against the glass that’s thankfully separating me from her.

I meant what I said last week. I’m not fucking her. Tonight, I’ll go out on the town with the boys to celebrate the win and find another puck bunny wanting a good time.

“Dante!” she shouts, and I can hear the anger, but again, I ignore her and continue to wave to the fans who made the effort to come to the first game.

Bitch shouldn’t have tried to fucking kiss me.

Half an hour later, I walk into my family suite. Morgan has stitched up my cut, and I’ve completed some press interviews, something I fucking hate but it’s a must now that I’m captain, and now I have to see my father and brother, who I haven’t spoken to since they tried to bombard me at Mag’s Diner to retire, but I can’t just ignore them with my niece and nephew waiting for me.

Fucking great.

“Unci….” Emma squeals and runs my way, I chuckle as I catch the little soon-to-be three-year-old.

She has red hair and green eyes, just like her momma, and she is perfect.

The day Morgan announced she was pregnant the whole family celebrated, I was so fucking happy, but I did unfortunately pass out when her water broke at an away game.

Roman to this day still hasn’t let me live it down. I can handle blood no problem but watching that water gush and her go pale, I was a goner.

I’m just glad they induced her with Damian.

“Hey, sweetheart,” I murmur to the perfect little girl and kiss her head as Roman walks my way holding Damian, who squeezes his fists towards me. I grin and take him as well while my big brother looks at me, scrutinizing me.

We haven’t spoken since the diner, and the fucker was smart enough to give me space and ensure Dad gave me space as well, though I can feel his and Mama’s eyes on me.

“How’d it feel to watch instead of play?” I ask, staying away from the conversation about my retirement.

He groans, “Fucking horrible and that Adams is shit,” I snort but soon laugh as Morgan snaps, “Language Roman!” as she walks into the room.

He looks around me and grins, his whole body relaxing as his wife walks over to him, then presses into his body, and without a second thought, the whipped fucker wraps his arm around her, holding her close like she’s been gone for years than just a few hours.

“Sorry, little mouse,” he mutters before kissing her head, and I cough under my breath, “Whipped.”

He holds up a middle finger as Rhett walks past me, flicking my head. I laugh as Morgan slaps the back of Roman’s head, not missing his action, while I shove Rhett, who trips and just catches himself as he wanders over to his parents.

Chuckling, I look around the room as Emma lays her head on my shoulder while Damian plays with my chain.

My parents are here. Dad watches me like a hawk while Mama watches her grandchildren in my arms, most likely plotting to steal them back. Rhett is hugging his step-mama, but it’s the man standing near the bar who’s gotten my attention—a man who doesn’t normally come to my games.

“Rocco Carmen, it’s good to see you,” I say as we lock eyes, and he gives me a small smile as he walks my way with his wife.

“It’s good to see you too, son, and congratulations on the win,” he says as he pats my back. I nod in thanks as his wife Tyra kisses my cheek, making me smile before I look back at Rocco. On the outside, he looks hard, but on the inside, I know he’s struggling.

Roughly fifteen years ago, Rocco’s brother, my father’s old consigliere, a job Rocco had to take over, was killed by the Cartel along with his wife. Rocco has been a shell of himself since, not that I can blame him. Apparently, he spent a lot of time with his brother, and from what I remember, Peter Carmen was a good man—well, as good as a made man could be—and he didn’t deserve the ending he got.

“You come to try and convince me to retire too so you can retire, and Rhett can take over?” I ask quietly, knowing Rhett will follow suit as soon as I hand in my skates.

He’s already made it perfectly clear he won’t be able to stay when I leave. We played college hockey together and signed with the Jaguars, so where I go, he goes, most likely including the weirdos he attracts in bed.

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