Page 13 of Cross Check Daddies
It slams into me all at once. Brooke. Cam’s Brooke. His high school girlfriend—the one with the laugh and the legs andthe talent everyone knew about. The one he never really talked about afterward.
“No shit,” I breathe, breaking into a grin. “Brooke Taylor? Damn, come here.”
I pull her into a hug, laughing as she does the awkward, surprised pat on the back thing before softening. She still smells like summer and something citrusy, familiar in a way I don’t want to examine too closely.
“Been a long time,” I say as we step back. “You look—yeah. You look amazing.”
She waves it off, but her smile lingers. “I’m doing okay. This is my son, Jackson.”
I glance down. The kid’s watching me like I just pulled off a superhero landing. “You’re his?”
She nods. “Mine.”
I glance between them, and it hits again—she’s glowing. Not in some made-up Instagram way. She looks lived-in, grounded, all sharp edges and soft places. And somehow hotter now than when she was seventeen.
“You should come by for dinner,” I say. “See Cam. He’d lose it.”
Something flickers across her face. Not hesitation exactly. Just... calculation.
“We actually already ran into each other. A few days ago.”
“Oh.” I blink. “Huh. He didn’t mention that.”
Her gaze darts down. “We’re... okay.”
“You sure?”
“I’ll be seeing more of him, actually.”
I rub the back of my neck. “You say that like it’s complicated.”
Jackson tugs my hand. “More bacon for Buddy?”
I dig in my pocket again, pass him the last strip. “Don’t spoil him.”
Brooke lifts a brow, eyes amused again. “I’m working on a new game. For the team. It’s not public yet, but GameHatch’s been tapped to develop something for the Icemen.”
I blink. “Wait—seriously? That’s insane.”
“We’re still finalizing things,” she says. “But yeah. I’ll be at the facility next week.”
“I can’t wait to see you there.” I mean it. Every word.
She looks at me for a long second, thoughtful. “Where were you headed, anyway?”
“Was gonna grab a drink. You?”
“Realtor appointment. I’m looking for an apartment.”
“Moving?”
She shakes her head. “Freak accident, but I have finally found an apartment I really like, so I am taking these two to see it before I sign the lease.”
“Perfect,” I say. “Let me buy you a drink to celebrate. No pressure. Just as friends.”
She squints at me. “Just friends?”
“Unless you’re into sweaty, bruised guys who almost got flattened by a bulldog. Then we can talk options.”
