Page 60 of ICED
Murphy perks up immediately. “Are these the ones with that Himalayan salt on top?”
“Yeah,” I say, grabbing a towel to wipe down the bench. “And I used oat flour this time instead of almond. Better texture.”
Dylan shakes his head. “Mate, you do realise you’re a professional athlete and not a contestant onBake Off, right?”
“Says the guy who only eats chicken and broccoli unless Jacko brings treats,” Murphy mutters around a mouthful of muffin.
“It’s called discipline,” Dylan counters. “Unlike some of us who emotionally eat banana bread.”
I smile and unwrap my wrist wraps. I’ve learned not to argue with the team’s resident model-slash-wingman. He meanswell. Mostly.
Murphy grabs another protein bar and drops into the seat next to me. “So,” he says, tone changing from joking to something quieter, more intentional. “How’d it go? With the little one. The skating.”
I take a long drink from my bottle, considering. “She was scared at first. Fell pretty quick. But I caught her.”
Murphy nods slowly. “And?”
“She told me something.” I look down at my hands. “About her dad. About Maya falling once and it making them cry. She didn’t say much, but enough for me to know that maybe Maya didn’t actually fall on her own.”
Murphy doesn’t speak for a beat. He just leans back, chewing slowly. “Christ.”
“Yeah.”
“You doing alright with all that?” he asks, quieter now.
“I think so. I mean, it’s not about me. But it’s hard, seeing her carry so much and still smile like she’s okay.”
“And Maya?”
I smile, but it feels fragile. “She’s letting me in. Bit by bit. Told me a little about him last night. Enough to make me want to drive a thousand miles and knock the guy out, but I won’t. I just want to be someone she doesn’t have to tiptoe around.”
Murphy claps me on the shoulder. “You already are, big man. Lila trusts you. Maya let you teach her daughter to skate. That’s not small.”
“I just want to be safe for them. Unshakably safe. No pressure. No noise. Just solid ground.”
Ollie returns, towel around his neck, grinning. “Did I miss the emotional heart-to-heart? Damn it. I was hoping for tears.”
Murphy tosses a towel at him. “Jacko’s in love, Ol. Be respectful.”
Ollie gasps dramatically. “Does this mean you’re going tobake wedding cupcakes now? Maybe a protein-infused wedding cake?”
“I’m not in love,” I mumble.
Murphy snorts. “Mate. You made her kid hot chocolate with extra cream and marshmallows. You’re gone.”
I don’t argue. Because maybe I am.
By the end of training, I’m half-wiped, but I pack up a separate container of muffins I tucked aside. The ones with cinnamon and extra banana, Lila’s favourite.
I tell the guys I’ll see them tomorrow, and head to the bakery.
My chest tightens a little as I park outside. Not nerves but the kind of anticipation that feels like something good could happen.
Maybe, if I’m lucky, she’ll smile when she sees me walk through the door.
She does. That smile, small, surprised, the kind that starts in her eyes and slowly takes over her whole face, it’s better than any goal horn.
“You always show up with muffins?” she asks, wiping flour from her hands.
