Twin Babies for my Pucking Defenders (Chicago Icebreakers #2)

15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Nate

I’m back there, right in the middle of it. Our wedding day.

Wow, she’s so damn beautiful. Her hair is pinned up with loose strands framing her face. I love the way she’s smiling like she’s got all the secrets in the world.

And me, I’m standing there in a suit that I’m pretty sure cost more than my first car, grinning like an idiot because I can’t believe she’s mine.

She’s walking down the aisle, and my chest feels like it’s about to explode, but not in a bad way.

Everything is perfect.

“Breathe, Nate,” someone whispers, probably my best man, but I don’t take my eyes off her.

I remember that moment—every second of it. The way she looked at me, her green eyes catching the sunlight streaming through the chapel windows. Her dress hugging her curves just right. And that damn smile. It’s like I’m there again, standing at the altar, feeling like the luckiest bastard on the planet.

We say our vows, and I can’t stop staring at her lips. I still remember how they taste, like strawberry chapstick.

She laughs at something I mutter under my breath, probably some dumb joke to keep from crying. And when she says, “I do,” I swear my world stops for a second.

I kiss her, holding on like I’m never letting go.

Then I wake up.

I stare at the ceiling, my breath heavy, the sheets tangled around me.

Those dreams…they don’t happen as often anymore. But when they do, fuck, they sting. My eyes flick to the clock—just past six. I scrub my hand over my face. Three days. Three days until Sadie turns twelve, and it never gets easier. Not on days like this.

I drag myself out of bed, my body heavy with that familiar weight. I head to the shower, let the hot water run over me, try to shake off the damn dream. It’s like there’s this chill that clings to me no matter how hot the water is. I finish up, towel off, and throw on some sweats and a T-shirt.

In the kitchen, I start making breakfast. Pancakes. Always pancakes on Fridays. Sadie loves them. I grab the eggs and the flour and start mixing, trying to focus on the motions. It’s always just been the two of us, my little girl and me.

I’ve gotta keep my shit together for her. I pour batter onto the skillet, watch it bubble, flip it, and repeat.

A few minutes later, I hear her padding into the kitchen. I turn around, and there she is, carrying that damn sketch pad like she’s glued to it. With her long brown hair and green eyes—she looks just like her mother. She has the same shy smile, too. It guts me every time.

“Morning, kiddo,” I say, keeping my voice light. “Sleep okay?”

She nods, sliding onto the stool at the kitchen island. “Yeah.”

I serve up the pancakes and sit across from her. “How was school yesterday? And, hey, sorry for getting home late.”

Sadie shrugs, poking at her pancake with a fork. “It was okay. I get it, Dad. Hockey season’s busy.”

I hate that she’s so understanding. It makes me feel like shit for missing dinners, for coming home after she’s already gone to bed. I force a smile. “Still. I gotta be better.”

She just smiles, that small, warm one she saves for me. “I drew something last night.” She flips open her sketch pad and slides it across the table to me.

It’s a drawing of the two of us—me in my hockey gear, her standing next to me with her sketch pad under her arm. She’s got this look of concentration on her face, like she’s caught between thinking something serious and something funny. My heart goes all warm and buttery looking at it.

“Damn, Sadie,” I say, studying it. “You’ve got some serious talent, kid.”

She blushes a bit, ducking her head. “Thanks.”

I reach across the table to ruffle her hair. “So, have you thought about what you wanna do for your birthday?”

She tilts her head, considering. “Maybe something with painting. Or…you could get me a pet?”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Nice try. I told you, thirteen is the magic number for pets.”

She shrugs, poking at her pancake again. “I saw this thing Millie Taylor said. Pets help with mental illness and stuff.” I swear my baby girl is obsessed with Millie.

But something catches my attention.

I freeze for a second, my fork halfway to my mouth. “Are you struggling with something? You know you can always talk to me, right?”

Sadie laughs, cheeky as hell. “I’m good, but sometimes you should take your own advice, Dad.”

I laugh, smacking her lightly on the back of the head. “Smartass.”

It’s no secret between us that I’ve got OCD. Not the clean freak kind—nah, my shit’s more about numbers and patterns. When I got diagnosed earlier this year, I sat her down and told her everything. She took it better than I did.

“Okay, okay,” I say. “You got me there. But I mean it, no pets until you’re thirteen.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips. “Fine. I’ll hold you to that.”

I glance at the clock. “What time you are done with debate class today?”

“Around five. Why, Dad?”

Instead of answering, I give her a grin. “How about I pick you up, and we go to Barnes and Noble?”

She practically shrieks, her face lighting up. “Really?”

“Really,” I say. “We haven’t done a puzzle since the season started. I figured we could grab one and maybe a few books.”

She loves books almost as much as she loves sketching. Her artistic talents and her imagination definitely come from her mother. I can’t even draw a good stick figure. I only started to enjoy reading after Sadie was born.

Based on the way she talks about the books she reads, my imagination is nowhere up to par. We can read the same books, and she seems to get so much more out of them than I do.

She nods enthusiastically, already bouncing on her stool. “Okay!”

“Good. Now go get ready,” I say, taking our plates and heading to the sink. She hops off and heads to her room, sketch pad tucked under her arm.

Sadie goes to a fancy private school—St. Ignatius Prep. I make sure to drop her off as often as I can, even if it means leaving for practice a bit late. I want her to know I’m there, even when I’m not able to have dinner with her or help with her homework.

I finish up in the kitchen, wiping down the counters. I head back upstairs, pull on a clean shirt, jeans, and my favorite baseball cap. Can’t leave the house without my hat. I glance at myself in the mirror. “All right, Coach Nate, let’s get this day rolling.”

I head downstairs and wait by the door for Sadie. She shows up a few minutes later, all dressed and ready, sketch pad in hand.

“Ready to go?” I ask, grabbing my keys.

“Yup,” she says, smiling up at me. I pull her in for a quick hug. She doesn’t pull away and I hold on a little longer than usual.

“All right, let’s hit the road,” I say, letting go. We step outside, the cool morning air hitting us. We get into the car and I drive her to school, my mind already thinking about the evening ahead—books, puzzles, and maybe, just maybe, a few moments where I don’t feel like I’m screwing everything up.

For now, it’s just the two of us. And I guess that’s enough.

***

“All right, listen up!” I shout over the clattering of sticks and skates. The boys gather in, a semi-circle of sweaty, intense faces looking right at me. Well, most of them. Declan and Finn are grinning like idiots, probably riding the high from that last play.

Carter’s hanging back, broody as hell, as always. Axel, however, is stretching his leg, his face a mask of focus and pain. That injury is fucking with him. I know it, he knows it, hell, everyone knows it.

“We’ve got Minnesota in three days,” I say, pacing a little. “They’re good at offense. You know what that means. Our defense needs to be goddamn perfect. No room for errors. Got it?”

Heads nod. Declan elbows Finn and they exchange a look like they’re ready to tear the ice apart. I trust those two to pull out all the stops. But Carter? The new kid’s still finding his groove. I’ve seen flashes of brilliance, but he’s holding back. And Axel…he’s a powerhouse, but I swear, if he doesn’t keep his energy in check, he’s gonna fuck something up.

“All right, warm-up drills. Ten minutes. Then we hit the plays. Go!” They scatter like a well-oiled machine except for Carter and Axel. I call them over.

“Carter, Axel, hold up.” I motion them closer. Axel gives Carter a playful shove, but the kid barely reacts. Steady as a rock. Great.

“I need you two to work together,” I say, staring them down. “Carter, you’re our damn left winger. Axel, you’re the bruiser. The enforcer. You’ve got to back him up. You’re the one to drag his ass out of whatever slump he’s in. You get me?”

Axel grins, all teeth and cockiness. “Yeah, Coach. I got it.”

Carter just shrugs. No fucking reaction. Jesus.

“Whatever beef you two got, sort it out off my ice,” I warn them. “After practice, you two are doing one-on-one training from four to four-thirty. You good with that?”

Axel nods enthusiastically, but Carter mumbles, “Yeah, sure.” Great. Real enthusiastic, kid. I think the conversation I had with Axel made his mood shift. I think I might have to sit down with Carter.

I’m trying really hard not to single him out. I know it has to be hard on him being the new kid on the team, but if he doesn’t integrate with the rest of them, he’s going to mess with my fucking game plan.

“All right, hit the ice. I want everything you’ve got.”

They take off, skating hard. I watch them, keeping my eyes on how they move. Finn and Declan are in sync, like they’re reading each other’s minds. Carter is fast, good, but he’s not connecting with the team.

He’s isolated out there. Axel’s a fucking beast, skating circles around Carter, throwing his weight around. The new guy has to adjust. Fast.

My gaze drifts, almost by reflex, to where Jade’s standing. She’s near the bleachers, nose buried in her phone, black hair falling over half her face. Damn it, she’s a distraction.

She’s not just beautiful—she’s magnetic. Every time I look at her, it’s like heat punches right through the cold rink air. The fuck is wrong with me? She’s young, so much younger than me, but fuck I can’t help it.

And I know it could bite me in the ass one day.

I pull my eyes away and get back to the boys. “Finn, Declan, keep that formation tight! Troy, push harder, damn it!”

The practice goes on, and for the next few hours, we work on plays, defense and offense—everything we need to tighten up before the game. Four hours later, the boys are gassed. I call them in.

“You guys did well today,” I say. “Keep it up. Practice tomorrow, same time. Don’t be late.”

The team breaks up, heading for the locker rooms. I stop Carter and Axel again. “Get water, take a break. I’ll see you both on the ice at four.”

“Got it, Coach,” Axel says, and Carter just nods. They head off and I turn toward the stairs leading to my office.

Up in my office, I stare at my cluttered desk. Papers are everywhere, along with game strategies and play schedules. Shit. I start tidying up, stacking the mess into something that looks half-decent. Don’t want Jade to walk in and see this chaos. After a few minutes, I pull out my phone and call her.

“Jade, can you come to my office for a sec?” I ask.

“Sure, coach,” she replies, her voice smooth and low. That voice…damn. I gotta get it together.

When she walks in a few minutes later, she looks fresh-faced. Her lips are a soft pink. She’s got this calm confidence that’s rare for someone her age. She closes the door behind her and says, “You called, coach?”

“Yeah, have a seat,” I say, gesturing to the chair opposite my desk. I try to keep my focus, not let my eyes linger too long on her. “I wanted to talk about Axel.”

Her cheeks blush a bit, and I notice. What’s that about?

She brushes her hair back and says, “What about him?”

I narrow my eyes, pushing her reaction aside. “How’s his ACL holding up? You think he’s ready to play?”

Jade nods, serious now. “He’s doing better. The physical therapy has been good, but he needs to be careful. Maybe play half the game at most. It’s the only way he’ll last through the finals.”

I lean back, considering. She’s right, and I like that she’s thinking ahead. “Half the game, huh?”

“Yeah, it’ll keep him fresh. Besides, I’m pretty confident you guys are gonna make it to finals with or without him,” she says, a small smile playing over her lips.

I chuckle. “Already thinking about the finals? I like that confidence.”

She shrugs, but there’s a glimmer in her eyes. “It’s not confidence, Coach. It’s just facts. You’ve got a good team. You just need Carter to fit in more.”

“Yeah, he’s a hard nut to crack,” I mutter. “I’m working on it.”

She nods. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

There’s a pause, and I find myself staring at her, just for a second too long. She catches me, and I clear my throat, shifting in my seat.

“All right, thanks for the update,” I say, trying to sound professional. “You can go now.”

She stands up, smooth and graceful. “Sure thing, coach. See you on the ice.” And with that, she’s gone, leaving a strange kind of heat in the room that wasn’t there before.

Fuck. What am I doing? I shake my head, staring out the window, watching the guys milling around. I’ve got a game to win. A team to lead. And I can’t get caught up in whatever the hell this is. I look back at the ice, at my players, and remind myself why I’m here.

Time to focus.

I head back to the rink, ready to oil the moving parts of my team.

“All right, Carter, Axel. It’s time for one-on-one drills. Get your asses on the ice,” I call out, my voice echoing through the rink. The rest of the team is trickling off to the locker rooms, but these two? They’re sticking around.

Carter’s got that broody scowl on, as usual. It’s like the kid’s allergic to cracking a smile. Finn’s the only one who’s gotten through to him, and even that took some damn effort. Meanwhile, Axel’s all energy, bouncing around like he’s chugged a six-pack of Red Bull.

If anyone’s dragging Carter out of that pit of self-imposed misery, it’s Axel. They just need to work together. Figure out their shit. That’s what this is about.

They skate out, Carter taking his sweet time, Axel darting ahead like he’s on a mission. I’m shaking my head, watching them line up. “All right, boys. You’re gonna run these drills like your lives depend on it. Carter, you’re playing defense, Axel, offense. I want you to come at each other like it’s game day, got it?”

Axel grins, that cocky spark in his eye. “Got it, coach.”

Carter just shrugs. Of course, he does.

I blow the whistle, and Axel’s off, weaving through the cones, puck glued to his stick. He’s got speed, I’ll give him that. Carter’s lagging a bit behind, but then he locks in, his movements getting sharper.

Axel fakes right, then cuts left. Carter tries to block, but Axel slips past, firing a shot that rings off the post.

“Damn it, Carter! Tighten up!” I shout. “Axel, stop showboating!”

Axel snickers, and Carter gives him a glare that could melt the ice. This is exactly the shit they need to work out. Axel’s good, but he’s gotta learn to rein it in. Carter’s got potential, but he’s got his head so far up his ass he can’t see it.

We run the drills for the next hour. Axel pushes harder, trying to break through Carter’s defenses. Carter starts reading Axel better and better, moving in sync, anticipating his moves. The kid’s got the instincts. He just needs the confidence. Axel’s relentless, though. He’s gonna make him work for it.

“All right, that’s enough!” I finally call out. “You two can tackle the bleachers now. Clean them up. Together.”

Axel groans. “Coach, c’mon…”

“No, Axel. You wanna be on this team, you clean. Together. It’ll teach you to work as a unit.” I turn away before I hear any more griping, heading back to my office. I’ve got more pressing shit to handle.

Like Sadie’s birthday. Shit. I need to make a plan. I glance at the calendar on my desk, seeing the circled date staring back at me like a deadline to a test I forgot to study for. She’s turning twelve, and I haven’t got a clue what she’d want.

Declan. Declan might know someone who could help. I grab my phone and dial his number.

“Hey, coach,” he answers, a little out of breath.

“Declan. Need a favor. You know that event planner who did the twins’ birthday? Can you send me her number?”

“Sure thing, coach. Give me a sec.” There’s some rustling, and then he’s back. “All right, her name’s Jessica Reed. I’m texting you her info now.”

“Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”

I hang up and immediately dial Jessica’s number. It rings a few times before she picks up, her voice bright and professional.

“Jessica Reed, how can I help you?”

“Hi, Jessica, this is Nathan Thorne. I’m a coach for the Chicago Icebreakers. I got your number from Declan Hughes. I need someone to plan a birthday party for my daughter.”

“Oh, Nate! I remember Declan and the twins. I’d love to help, but I’m booked solid for the next four months. I’m so sorry.”

“Four months?” I mutter, frustrated. “Shit. All right, thanks anyway.”

I hang up, cursing under my breath, when I hear a soft knock on my door. I look up, and there’s Jade, standing in the doorway, her eyes wide with concern. She’s got that damn effect on me—every damn time. Even in those scrubs, with her hair falling over her face, she’s a knockout.

“You okay, coach?” she asks, and I can hear the hesitation in her voice.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, shrugging it off. “Just…distracted. You need something?”

She steps inside, a bit more confident. “I was thinking about assessing the players tomorrow. Like, a full evaluation to see where everyone’s at.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Necessary?”

“I think so. We need to know exactly what we’re working with if we’re gonna make it to finals.”

I nod. “All right, I’ll let the boys know.”

“Thanks.” She turns to leave, but then stops, glancing back at me. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

I let out a sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. “Trying to plan a birthday for a twelve-year-old. I have no idea what girls that age are into.”

Jade brightens up, like a light bulb’s just turned on. “What does her mom think?”

And then she freezes, her face going pale. “Oh, shit. I forgot—I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Nate.”

I’d told her about how Sadie’s mom, my wife, had died in childbirth. Jade’s face is all flushed, her eyes wide with regret.

“It’s fine,” I say, my voice rougher than I intended. “Really. No hard feelings.”

She bites her lip, looking like she wants to say more, but instead, she nods and slips out of my office. The whole time, I’m left there, thinking about that look on her face. The way she seemed so…genuine. I didn’t like seeing her so damn contrite.

I gather my things, locking up the office and heading out. Time to pick up Sadie from school. The whole way there, my mind keeps drifting back to Jade and her worried expression. Goddamn it.

When I get to the school, Sadie’s already waiting by the gate, backpack slung over one shoulder, hair in a messy ponytail. She looks up when she sees me, breaking into a smile that’s so pure it squeezes my chest.

“Hey, kiddo,” I say, ruffling her hair. “How was school?”

“Same old, same old,” she replies with a shrug, but she’s grinning. “You look stressed, Dad. Did your team suck today?”

I chuckle. “Not all of ‘em. Just the usual suspects.”

She laughs, and we head to the bookstore. And as we drive, I’m thinking about this damn birthday party. I’ve got to make it right. For her. For Sadie.

Back home, after dinner, while Sadie’s doing her homework, I shoot Declan a text: Got any other event planner suggestions? Need someone ASAP.

He replies almost instantly: Sorry, man. Jessica was the best. Maybe just do it yourself?

Damn. Maybe he’s right. I’m her dad, after all. I should be able to pull off a birthday party. I just wish I had a damn clue where to start.