Page 100 of Cross Check Daddies
“No.”
She grins. “Perfect. That means you’re human.”
We pile into the car Ace sent—one of those slick black SUVs that makes us look like celebrities off to a red carpet. Jackson hums a theme song to himself as we wind through the late afternoon traffic. Ivy checks her phone every five minutes. I rub my belly without realizing it.
This is it.
Ace got us special seats—premium box suite, midline view, private bathroom. Ivy looks like she’s stepped into the damn Ritz the second we walk in. Jackson presses himself to the glass, watching the Zamboni make its rounds.
I take a breath, smoothing the fabric of my dress, and try to hold myself together.
Down on that ice, three men I care about are about to go to war with the man who once held every part of me.
And for the first time since the chaos began, I realize I’m not afraid.
I’m ready.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Ace
I standin the middle of the locker room, arms crossed, sweat still cooling on my skin as I wait for the noise to settle. The guys are hyped, buzzing, throwing tape balls at each other, and chest-bumping like they’ve already won. I let it roll for a second. Then I nod at Leo, and he whistles sharply through two fingers.
“All right,” I say, stepping up. “Lock it in.”
Silence stretches out like a thread pulled tight.
“This isn’t just another regular-season game. You already know who we’re playing. You already know what’s at stake. But I’m going to say it anyway.”
I look around at every single one of them. Leo on my left. Tanner leaning forward with both elbows on his knees. Beau. Mason. Kieran. Deke. The full crew is locked in.
“They’re coming out mean tonight. They’re not just playing to win—they’re playing to remind us who they think we are. But they don’t know what we’ve built here. This team is more than speed and muscle. It’s family.”
I pause.
“You give them nothing. You play clean. You play smart. But you don’t back down for a second. Understood?”
A wall of voices answers at once. “Yes, Coach.”
I clap Leo on the back. He adds the stats, the plays, the numbers, and I feel the heat building in the room again. This team’s ready.Myteam is ready.
The game is brutal. Fast. The first period, we trade goals back and forth. Tanner and Aaron nearly go at it by the second, but Ryder holds. Barely. I see the tightness in his jaw every time Aaron lines up beside him. But he doesn’t swing. He plays.
Tanner scores the tying goal halfway through the third, and that sets the tone. The crowd is losing it. The energy’s sharp, electric, climbing with every second. I glance toward the suite, and there she is.
Brooke.
Wearing that dress. Holding Jackson on her lap. Ivy beside her.
Her eyes are on us, locked in. And when we score again with sixty seconds on the clock, she jumps to her feet and cheers like she’s all in. I’ve never seen anyone look prouder.
Final buzzer. We win.
I don’t celebrate long. I head straight off the ice because I know what comes next.
The post-game event is flawless at first. Massive banners drop from the rafters—ICEMEN: FROSTBITEglowing against icy lighting, the crowd already pulling out phones to capture the moment. Media everywhere. Big screens rolling promo footage. The applause is deafening.
Brooke is supposed to take the mic.
