Page 61 of Sin Bin Daddies
There’s a round of nods and muttered affirmations.
“Play smart,” he continues. “Trust your teammates. Execute.” His gaze sweeps over us, landing on me and Ford. “Hart, Hale—step up and set the tone tomorrow.”
I nod, rolling my shoulders, already feeling the anticipation build in my chest.
We finish practice on a strong note, the team’s energy buzzing, a mixture of exhaustion and adrenaline. By the time we get back to the house, I’m ready to crash for a bit before dinner.
But just as I drop onto the couch, my phone buzzes.
Ashley.
I swipe to answer. “What’s up, superstar?”
“Hey, dumbass.” Her voice is warm, teasing. “You miss me?”
I stretch, tipping my head back against the cushion. “Obviously. Where are you now? Still in London?”
“Paris,” she corrects, and I can practically hear the smirk in her voice. “Or at least, Iwas. I’m in town now for a few days before I fly back.”
I sit up a little straighter. “No shit? You should’ve told me sooner.”
“Iamtelling you,” she says, laughing. “I got in late last night. Anyway, I want to come to your game tomorrow. Got a seat for me?”
I scoff. “You don’t even have to ask.”
“Good,” she says, satisfied. “I miss you, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, shaking my head. “You missme, or you miss making fun of me in person?”
“Both,” she admits, laughing. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Don’t suck.”
“Never.”
She hangs up, and I toss my phone onto the cushion beside me, exhaling. It’s been a while since I’ve seen my twin sister.
She’s always flying somewhere—movie shoots, press tours, whatever project she’s throwing herself into. But she’s still my twin, still one of the only people who reallygetsme.
Tomorrow will be good.
When Ford gets back from wherever the hell he disappeared to, I glance up from my phone. “What are we ordering for lunch?”
He shrugs, checking his phone. “I’m gonna watch some TV with Madeline.”
I shake my head. “Of course you are.”
He just grins, already heading out.
I grab my phone, pulling up the delivery app. I order a couple of burgers, fries, some wings—leaving some for Ford, because I know he’s gonna come down later, starving after whatever the hell he’s about to do with Madeline.
I stretch out on the couch, grabbing the remote.
It’s been agoodfucking day.
The arena is already buzzing when I step onto the ice for warm-ups. The Philadelphia Cubs are a tough team—fast, aggressive, always pushing us to the edge. Every game against them is a battle, and tonight won’t be any different.
I skate a few laps, testing my edges, stickhandling the puck, my muscles already wired with anticipation. As I turn toward the bench, movement in the stands catches my eye.
Madeline in the Frostbite costume, the ridiculous oversized ice cube that somehow became our mascot.
