Page 14 of Breakaway Daddies

The entire season teeters on the brink of disaster.

But it’s more than just hockey that weighs on him. Rowan is like a brother to him—to all of us, really—but Bruno cherishes those bonds deeply. He’s not one to let people in easily, but once he does, they’re bound to him for life.

He lets out a heavy, world-weary sigh, dragging a hand down his face as if trying to wipe away the stress etched into his features. He mutters something in Slovak, a language I don’t understand, but the tone is undeniably dramatic, laden with emotion and intensity.

His phone vibrates against the glass surface of the coffee table, the screen lighting up with an incoming call. He casts a fleeting glance at it, then lets out a low groan.

“Rowan,” he mutters under his breath.

I raise an eyebrow and chuckle. “Are you planning to answer that, or just glare at it until it stops ringing?”

He shoots me an exasperated look, then reluctantly picks up the phone. “Hey,” he greets with a resigned tone.

“Hey, man, how are you?” Rowan’s voice crackles through the speaker, slightly distorted but familiar. “You busy?”

Bruno responds with a noncommittal grunt, a sound that’s become his signature reply.

I can’t help but chuckle. “Seriously, man, why don’t you just say ‘yes’ like a normal person?”

Bruno rolls his eyes in mock annoyance but relents. “Fine,” he finally admits, running a hand through his hair. “Be there in twenty.”

Just as he’s reaching for his keys, I bound down the stairs behind him, tugging my hoodie over my head. The cotton fabric brushes against my hair, and I can almost feel the static it creates.

My cross-fit session is on the agenda, but curiosity gets the better of me.

“Where you off to?” I ask, trying to sound casual, even though the anticipation bubbles beneath my words.

“Hospital,” he mumbles, each syllable emerging slowly, heavy with emotion, as if merely uttering the word causes him discomfort.

Concern sends my eyebrows flying up. “Oh yeah. Ro’s getting out today, huh?”

A low affirmative grumble, a sound that resonates deep in his throat. He shoves his feet into his sneakers with such force it’s as if they’ve personally wronged him, each stomp echoing his pent-up tension.

The frustration emanates from him in waves, palpable and intense. The guy is so dramatic, as if he’s performing on a stage, showcasing his internal turmoil for an invisible audience.

I watch him for a moment, noticing the way his brow furrows and his lips press into a thin line. Rolling my eyes, I decide to break the tension.

Without a second thought, I swing my fist playfully into his arm, the impact making a quiet thud against his jacketed bicep. Bruno jolts in surprise, spinning around to face me, his eyes blazing with a fiery glare.

“What the hell?” he demands, his voice a mix of annoyance and disbelief, cutting through the air like a knife.

“Stop acting like a moody little bitch,” I retort, trying to coax a smile from him. “Rowan’s fine. The team’s gonna be fine. You sulking around like a grumpy grandpa with sciatica isn’t doing anyone any favors.”

I can almost see the cartoonish storm cloud hovering over his head as his scowl deepens, shadowing his features with irritation, but he chooses not to argue.

Instead, he lets out an exasperated huff—a sound not unlike steam escaping a kettle—then tugs his jacket more securely around his shoulders and strides purposefully toward the door, his footsteps echoing in the hallway.

“If you punch me again, I’m breaking your damn wrist,” he growls over his shoulder.

I can’t help but grin at his stubbornness. “Love you too, sunshine,” I call after him, the words laced with affection and a touch of irony.

He disappears through the doorway, leaving a trail of tension behind him. I quickly follow.

We hop into Bruno’s truck, and he speeds off toward the hospital. “How on earth are we going to get Rowan to stick to his physical therapy without him making us all miserable?” he grumbles.

I chuckle dryly, shaking my head at the thought. “Man, I’ve been wondering that ever since he took that nasty fall.”

Bruno keeps his eyes on the road, shaking his head. “He’s going to be impossible. He barely listens when he’s fine, and now he’s just going to be an angry, immobile version of himself.”

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