Page 110 of Cross Check Daddies
It’s quiet this morning.
No dramatic sunrise. No crashing waves. Just a lazy shimmer of light over water, gulls calling in the distance, and the scent of pancakes wafting through the open screen door of the cabin.
It’s our last morning here. Last breakfast before we pack the cars and head back to the chaos waiting in Miami.
Brooke’s sitting cross-legged on the porch, hair tied up, one of my sweatshirts swallowing her frame. She looks rested, which feels like a miracle considering everything she’s carried the last few months.
Tanner’s at the grill flipping bacon, Cam’s pouring juice, and Jackson’s making syrup mountains out of his pancake stack like it’s his final act of rebellion before we leave this place behind.
He sighs dramatically mid-bite. “I miss Buddy.”
Brooke turns toward him, smile soft. “We’ll pick him up first thing, okay?”
Jackson nods, stabbing a corner of his pancake. “He’s gonna be so excited.”
Cam sets the juice down and wipes his hands on a towel. “We need to talk about... how we’re handling all of this. Going back.”
Everyone goes quiet for a moment.
Brooke looks up slowly. “You mean... us?”
“I mean everything,” Cam says, sliding into the chair across from her. “The game’s trending worldwide. People are asking who the father is. And with your name on the dev credits and the promo campaign, there’s gonna be pressure.”
I set down my mug. “Deflect.”
Tanner raises an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. Not lie. Just... steer focus. Everyone’s waiting for a statement, a headline, a scandal to dissect. Don’t give it to them.”
Cam’s shaking his head. “That won’t work. They’ll push. They’ll dig.”
I nod. “They might. But if we give them something bigger to chew on... we shift the narrative.”
Brooke watches me carefully. “What are you thinking?”
“I’ll announce my retirement.”
Tanner and Cam both blink.
Brooke straightens. “What?”
I hold her gaze. “It’s time. I told you I’ve been thinking about it for a while. This past season was good, but I’m not twenty-five anymore. And I want more mornings like this. Not locker rooms and press conferences and stretching out my knee for thirty minutes just to climb stairs.”
“Are you sure?” she asks softly.
“I’m sure.”
Cam leans back in his chair. “You think that’ll take the heat off?”
“It’ll distract, at least temporarily. And it sets a boundary.”
Tanner’s still frowning. “So what, we let them think you’re the father?”
I shake my head. “No confirmation. No denial. Let the public think what they want. But we don’t feed the machine.”
Brooke’s eyes narrow. “And what about me?”
“You,” I say, “are not the story.Frostbiteis the story. That’s what we let the world talk about.”
