Page 4 of Breakaway Daddies

Jesus, Thomas.

This is what happens when there’s no solid distraction in my life. And it’s clear that the string of meaningless hookups isn’t cutting it anymore.

Not exactly the kind of epiphany you want when it’s almost midnight and you’re standing alone in an empty parking lot.

I let out a long sigh, pushing away from the cool metal of the car and clicking the unlock button on the key fob.

Time to head home before my thoughts dig me into a deeper hole.

As I turn the ignition key, the engine of my old sedan sputters to life, and I reach for my phone resting on the cracked leather of the passenger seat. I thumb through my contacts and call Rowan.

He picks up after the third ring, his voice teasing through the receiver. “You’d better not be asking me to help bury a body.”

A curt laugh escapes me as I steer one-handed out of the parking lot. “Nah, you’re my second call for that.”

“Nice to know where I stand,” he quips.

“You busy?” I ask, merging onto the main road.

“I’m watchingTombstone,” he confesses, and I can hear the faint sounds of a movie playing in the background.

I let out an exaggerated groan, my eyes rolling in my head. “Again? Man, what is with you and that movie?”

“It’s a classic,” he insists, his voice rising with mock indignation. “C’mon, cowboys taming the west, the good guys winning. What’s not to love?”

I roll my eyes, imagining him sprawled on his couch, eyes glued to the screen. “Yeah, yeah, sure. Look, you want to watch something that isn’t a '90s western? I’ll grab a pizza on my way home.”

Rowan’s considering hum vibrates through the line. “Fine. But only if we get extra cheese.”

“Done,” I promise, switching lanes smoothly.

“And breadsticks,” he adds with a childlike insistence.

I sigh, shaking my head at his predictable demands. “Are you five?”

“Breadsticks, Thomas. Non-negotiable. You know how I get when I have low blood sugar,” he states firmly.

“Fine, whatever,” I concede, watching the cityscape blur past. “I’ll see you in twenty.”

He hangs up, and I toss my phone onto the seat, a teasing grin playing on my lips. At least I won’t spend the whole night thinking about Jinx.

Hopefully.

CHAPTERONE

Jinx

I carefully smooththe last piece of bright blue Kinesio tape over Brooks’s muscular thigh, pressing each edge down firmly with my fingers to ensure it adheres properly.

“There. That should help keep things stable, but you need to be doing your stretches every day, got it?” I emphasize, looking him in the eyes.

The guy nods, his eyes darting away, and I can already tell from the restless way he shifts in his seat that he’s going to conveniently forget half of what I just said.

Typical.

An exhale escapes through my nose, a stiff sigh of resignation, and I tilt my head toward the expansive window of my office. Beyond the glass, the rink unfolds, its ice glowing white under the overhead lights.

The smooth, glassy surface is gently marred by faint skate marks from earlier practice sessions. A few stragglers glide in lazy circles, their figures moving slowly as they wind down for the night.

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