Page 34 of Man Advantage

“They should do that!” Zach said. “We could trick-or-treat and they could do a haunted house on the ice!”

“That would be great!” I said. “And they’ve got plenty of goalie masks, so it’ll work.”

Zane turned to me, brow furrowed. “Why would there be goalie masks in a haunted house?”

“You know, from—” I stopped myself. “Right. Right, you guys probably haven’t seen those movies.”

“We’ve seenallthe hockey movies,” Zach declared.

Zane frowned. “None of them used hockey masks in a haunted house.”

Crap. I didn’t need to be the reason Trev’s kids suddenly started asking to watchFriday the 13th. “It was… one of those movies that almost no one has seen.”

“So it was bad,” Zane said.

Eh, I’d enjoyed them, but it was as good a reason as any to derail the conversation before I told them too much about some horror movies. “Pretty bad, yeah.”

“No, thanks,” Zach said.

“Yeah,” Zane agreed. “Nobody wants to watch bad movies.”

I just chuckled. Maybe someday I’d tell them just how much their dad loved stupid movies, and that included movies that were so terrible they were hilarious. In fact, that was something for them to figure out when they were in their“oh my God parents are so embarrassing”phases.

We found a place to sit in the bleachers, and we settled in to wait for camp to start. Trev had strongly recommended bringing seat cushions, and I was glad he did—the bleachers were hard plastic, and even with the cushion, my ass was feeling it after about fifteen minutes. The boys were still up and wanderingaround right now—all the kids were—but I suspected they’d appreciate the cushions too once they took their seats.

At about 8:15, they did exactly that, parking on either side of me and gazing out at the ice. A moment later, players started to trickle out of the locker room. Alotof players. The long list should’ve tipped me off—and Trev had said something about prospects, professional tryouts, and minor league players joining them—but wow, there were alot. And this was only two of the three “teams” they’d all been broken into for training camp. The third wouldn’t be out until later.

Above the ice, several offices had a balcony that overlooked everything, and a number of people in suits and Rebels jackets gazed down. If I’d understood some of Trev’s comments from last night correctly, those were the general manager and other front office staff. The GM and the coaches (who were on the ice) would whittle down the long list of players to the opening night roster of twenty.

Better them than me, because that sounded like onehellof a task.

Beside me, Zane pointed sharply at the glass. “There’s Dad!”

I followed where he was indicating, and sure enough, that was definitely Trev. He was just stepping onto the ice, and he glided a few feet as he fussed with his glove. Something about that look of concentration—even when he was just messing with his glove—gave me a fluttery feeling I didn’t want to think too much about. This wasn’t easygoing Trev hanging out at home. This was Trev at work, doing the thing he loved.

I’d always loved watching him on the ice. Not just in the heat of a game, but also when he was still relaxed and warming up. There was something amazing about seeing him in his happy place. In his natural element. The way he made everything he did look effortless, from the high-speed maneuvering to lazily skating backward while he chatted with a teammate.

From the time we were kids, he’d always had an air of contentment about him when he had on his gear. As if everything else in his world just fell away, and nothing existed except hockey.

I was glad to see that after his tumultuous divorce and all its fallout, he still seemed to find that calm and contentment out there.

And what could I say? Trev’s practice facility wasn’t the only thing that had been massively upgraded over the years.

I’d thought he looked hot at home. Grownup pro-hockey-player Trev on his skates with all his gear on? In the physique that professional hockey had blessed him with?Whoa.

“There’s Dad,” Zach said.

“I know,” Zane snapped, and pointed sharply at Trev. “I just said?—”

“No.Dad.” Zach pointed in another direction.

I craned my neck, and…

Aww, fuck me. Theirotherdad. The one who’d put Trev in a position to need me in the first place, and who didn’t do a whole lot to hide how much he didn’t like me.

As he came closer, Bryan smiled at the boys, but the expression faltered when he caught sight of me. The unspokenOh, you’re herecame through loud and clear.

Um, yeah, dude? Because the boys want to watch Trev and you’re the one who said he had to hire a babysitter. Where’d youthinkI’d be?

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