Page 74 of Breakaway Daddies

“Jinx, hey, what are you doing here?”

Kenzie’s voice is warm and familiar, pulling me back to reality. I turn around, forcing a smile to mask my discomfort. Her dark hair frames her face perfectly as always, and her mocha eyes have a prying sense to them.

“Oh, just… needed to get out. Thought I’d haunt my old stomping grounds,” I reply, attempting a casual tone.

Kenzie raises a single black eyebrow, a knowing look in her gaze, but then she grins, reaching into her pocket for her own badge. “What are friends for?” she says with a wink, swiping us both into the arena.

The door buzzes open, and I exhale a long, relieved breath, following her inside, grateful for the familiar companionship.

Kenzie and I walk side by side, the echo of our steps bouncing off the stark concrete walls of the partially lit hallway.

The distinct smell of rubber from the skate mats mingles with the sharp tang of ice cleaner, filling my nostrils. It brings back memories of early morning practices and late-night games, leaving me feeling both nostalgic and slightly queasy.

“So,” she says, casting a sidelong glance at me, her eyes curious under the fluorescent lights, “how’s the harem life going?”

I respond with a wry smile, the corners of my mouth lifting slightly, and shake my head. “It’s not really going anywhere,” I admit.

Kenzie hesitates for a moment, her pace slowing as she gives me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Jinx,” she says softly.

“Nah.” I wave off her concern with a flick of my hand. “Don’t be. It is what it is.”

My smile feels forced, barely grazing my eyes, and I can see she notices, but thankfully, she doesn’t press further.

Reaching the stands, I duck under the railing and step up onto the metal bleachers, the cold biting through my leggings as I take a seat.

The chill seeps into my bones, reminding me of the countless hours I used to spend here. It’s funny how a sheet of ice beneath fluorescent lights can feel more like home than the four walls of my apartment.

The rink buzzes with activity. The hockey team is deep into practice, skates slicing through the frozen surface with precision. The players dart back and forth, their breath visible in the chilly air.

My attention shifts to the new physical therapist, standing awkwardly at the sidelines. She’s fumbling with a roll of tape, holding it upside down like a foreign object. I wince at the sight.

Oh no. She doesn’t even stretch Hensley right—his quad’s gonna seize halfway through the drill.

My fingers itch to intervene. I could fix that in twenty seconds flat. The urge to jump in and help is almost overwhelming, but I remind myself that I’m not on the payroll anymore. I’m just… a visitor now, watching from the outside.

The ache hits me with unexpected force, like an icy gust sneaking through a crack in the window. It creeps up my spine, a slow, unwelcome burn that coils around each vertebra.

I rest my hand on my belly, feeling the gentle curve beneath my fingers. The baby isn’t kicking yet, but the presence is undeniable.

“I’m gonna figure this out,” I whisper to the unborn life within over the distant echoes of skates slicing the ice. “I’m gonna give you the best damn life I can. I promise.”

But in this moment, doubt hangs heavy over me like a fog. It doesn’t feel like I’m doing a great job at all.

I stand and make my way back to the lobby, the crisp air hitting me, sharp and invigorating, filling my lungs with its frosty breath. I push through the glass door and emerge into the late afternoon sunlight.

The brightness stings my eyes, causing me to blink rapidly in an attempt to adjust, to shake off the sensation that something important has slipped from my grasp, something that truly mattered.

My worn leather boots crunch through gritty, salty slush paved along the parking lot, while the overcast sky looms heavy and gray, like an old, stained cotton sheet sagging under its own weight.

Midway to my car, I hesitate, lungs working overtime, not from physical exertion but from the crushing pressure of everything piling up. The boys, the baby, and the awkward limbo I’ve engineered pull at me relentlessly.

I need to unburden my heart to someone who truly understands the sudden plunge into a life that’s as terrifying as it is genuine.

For a moment, I entertain the idea of slipping back inside to find Kenzie. But the last thing I want is to drag her into my personal storm, risking her hard-earned focus.

With trembling, numb fingers, I dig into my pocket, retrieving my phone. I scroll slowly until Ally’s name appears on the screen, then press call.

Her warm voice fills the line on the second ring: “Hey, Jinx.”

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