Page 68 of Cross Check Daddies
He looks past me, and she steps forward, a little stiff but holding her wine like it’s a shield. “I’m Ivy. You must be Ace.”
He shifts the pizzas into one hand and offers the other to her. “That’s me.”
She takes the boxes from him, nodding once.
“Well, now that we’ve met... come in for dinner and let me interrogate you for the fun of it.”
Ace glances at me, amused.
I step aside and let him in, already trying to calculate how this night just got more complicated—and somehow even better.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Ace
There’ssomething about being inside her place that always settles me. The lived-in comfort, the scent of coconut and something sweet baked into the fabric of the couch, the sound of Jackson’s feet hitting the hardwood like a mini stampede.
But tonight, it’s more than that. There’s Ivy now too, and it’s easy to see that this woman—standing barefoot in black slacks and a wine-stained grin—is more than just Brooke’s best friend. She’s family.
The four of us sit around the coffee table, pizza boxes open, slices disappearing quickly.
Jackson is mid-rant about which dinosaur would win in a fight—laser-eyed T-Rex or armored Triceratops—and Buddy the bulldog is curled up beneath the table, snoring with one paw on Jackson’s foot.
Ivy’s curled into the arm of the couch like she lives here, and Brooke’s beside her, legs folded under her, grease on her wrist, hair frizzing slightly from the Miami humidity. She’s got her hoodie zipped halfway, shorts peeking out under it, and she doesn’t even realize how stupidly hot she looks right now.
I slide a small bag across the table. “Saw this at the shop next to the pizza place. Thought of you.”
Jackson’s eyes widen as he rips the tissue paper apart and pulls out the keyholder—a green dinosaur, teeth bared, with a magnetic belly. “RAWR!” he roars, already running to the front door to stick it next to the coat hooks.
I glance at Brooke. Her eyes are soft. No teasing tonight. Just warmth.
Ivy watches the scene unfold, sipping her wine, then turns to me like she’s been waiting to pounce. “So, Coach Carter. You know, since I am best friend slash adopted auntie, I think I deserve at least seasonal tickets.”
Brooke laughs. “Here we go.”
I hold my hands up. “You want box seats or behind the bench?”
Ivy leans in, eyes sparkling. “Both. I want the full Icemen experience. Mascots, foam fingers, emotional breakdowns, free popcorn. All of it.”
“I think I can manage that.”
It’s a good time.
Laughter. Empty plates. Brooke swatting Jackson’s hand away when he reaches for another slice. Ivy asking questions about team politics and then making Cam sound like a cartoon villain for fun. I sit back and watch, letting it soak in.
The ease between the two women is electric. Years of friendship, tucked into glances and private jokes I can’t translate. Ivy leans her head on Brooke’s shoulder at one point and calls her “rookie,” and Brooke throws a crust at her. This is herrealworld. No PR. No filters. Just life.
Eventually, the wine runs low, and Jackson is yawning, his little hand digging into Buddy’s fur as he curls up beside the dog like it’s a custom bed.
I glance at my watch. “Alright, I should head out. Let you two have your time.”
Brooke’s already getting up. She whispers something to Ivy that I miss. Ivy waves her hand. “Go."
Brooke crosses to me, that secret little smile tugging at her mouth. I lean in, brushing her hair from her cheek.
“Nice to meet you, Ivy,” I say over her shoulder.
“Likewise, Coach.”
