Chapter 26
The chill in the Linwood Rink had that sharp, clean bite that woke a man up better than coffee.
I leaned on the boards, whistle dangling from my neck, and watched the Mayhem fly through a two-on-two breakout drill.
Skates carved the fresh sheet, pucks clacking off sticks, the echo bouncing off the rafters like gunfire.
Off-season, sure, but these kids were hungry for another state championship, and it showed.
Beckett dropped next to me, elbows on knees. “Watch Molly go against Smash here. She’s unreal.”
On the ice, Molly’s dark braid whipped like a battle flag as she spun past Delgado, who was yelling something about respecting her elders. She flipped him the bird without looking back.
Jace accepted a pass from Molly, then flicked a wrist shot at the goal. Miles snagged it with a glove save that there was no chance he would have made this time last year.
“Nice save, Pickles.” I clapped my hands together, then let out a whistle. “That’s what I like to see.”
Beckett nudged me. “You’re chipper today. What’s with you?”
“Just watching my back-to-back state champs.”
“Bullshit.” He took a swig of water. “You were humming earlier. And don’t think the whole town missed you sucking face with Daisy last night.”
I busied myself with the clipboard. “Focus on the drills, not my love life.”
Beckett wasn’t letting it go. “So how are you going to juggle it all this fall? Store opens at 7, school drop-off at 8, practice at 3, and now you’ve got a girlfriend. You’re one man, Huddy.”
I exhaled, watching Jace and Delgado set up for another rush. “I promoted Steve to general manager last week. He’s going to handle the day-to-day, and I can just be oversight.”
Beckett raised a brow. “You sure? Will your dad have anything to say about that?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care.”
“Amen, brother.”
On the ice, Molly stole the puck from Delgado again, cackling as she roofed it top shelf. Pickles flopped dramatically, and stayed down. “What the heck was that?”
“Skill!” Molly shouted back. “You should try it!”
Jace skated over, leaning on his stick. “Coach, tell Smash he can’t check me just ‘cause I’m prettier.”
Delgado grinned. “Pretty doesn’t stop pucks, Juice.”
“No cap,” Beckett said, and they all groaned in unison.
“I hate it when he does that,” Molly said. “Stop trying so hard.”
I blew the whistle for a water break. The kids coasted to the bench, sweaty and grinning. They all chattered about everything and nothing, but movement in my periphery caught my eye.
Junie marched down the ramp to the rink in an oversized Mayhem hoodie, leggings, and rain boots. Daisy followed, sunglasses pushed up into her hair, her paint-splattered overalls doing a terrible job of hiding the curves I memorized last night.
“Hi Dad!” Junie waved. “We brought snacks!”
My heart lurched at the word again, a wide grin spreading across my face as she ran toward me. Her arms wrapped around my legs, squeezing tight, and I hugged her back.
“What’s up, Rookie!” Molly knocked her on the shoulder, and Junie grinned up at her. “You’re late!”
“This isn’t an official practice,” Junie corrected, already climbing onto the bench. “So I can’t be late.”
Daisy gave a little wave, then busied herself setting the basket on the bench. I tried not to stare, but Beckett elbowed me hard enough to bruise.
“Subtle,” he muttered.
“Shut up.”
Junie was already in third-coach mode, pointing at the whiteboard. “Have they run the Carolina breakout yet? I watched replays with my dad last week, and the second forward needs to curl higher or the D will pinch.”
Delgado blinked. “Okay, pint-sized Gretzky.”
Junie looked right at him. “You should work on your gap control before the season starts.”
The kids howled. Even Pickles cracked a grin, his goalie mask perched atop his head.
Daisy slid onto the bench beside Beckett, leaving a careful foot of space between us. “Hope we’re not interrupting.”
“Never.” I pulled her in for a kiss on the temple, hand on her back. “Junie’s got notes.”
Beckett leaned forward. “Hey, Daisy. Nice basket.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Thanks, Beckett. Nice whistle.”
He smirked. “So, how was the rest of your night? Restful? Sleep well?”
Daisy’s face went scarlet, and she busied herself unpacking lemonade and cookies. “Slept great, thanks for asking.”
“Good, good,” Beckett said, grinning right at me. “Love to hear it.”
I kicked his skate. “Focus.”
Junie tugged my sleeve, and I looked down at her. “Can I blow the whistle?”
“Yeah, bug,” I said, handing her the clipboard and whistle. “Call the next drill.”
She scrambled up, standing on the bench. “Triangle regroup! Molly, you’re F1. Juice, F2. Smash, trail but don’t lag—your edges are lazy!”
Delgado saluted. “Yes, Coach Rook.”
They hit the ice, Junie barking orders with the confidence of a kid who’d spent too much time with me at practice over the last few months. Daisy watched, a soft smile tugging at her mouth.
Beckett pointed at Junie. “She’s good for them.”
“She’s good for everyone,” I said.
My best friend leaned against the boards, his focus on Daisy, not the kids on the ice.
Even though I knew I shouldn’t, I couldn’t help staring at her too. Last night was still burned into my skin—Daisy’s hands in my hair, her voice breaking on my name, the way she’d fallen asleep curled against me like she’d always belonged there.
Daisy caught us staring. “What?”
“Nothing,” Beckett and I said at the same time.
She rolled her eyes, but her blush deepened.
Practice rolled on, Junie’s voice echoing over the ice. She corrected Pickles’ stance and praised Molly’s one-timer like a seasoned analyst. The kids ate it up, skating harder and laughing louder.
When the Zamboni rolled out, the team circled up, sweaty and buzzing. Junie stood between Molly and Jace, clipboard clutched to her chest.
“Great work,” I said. “Hydrate, stretch, and—”
“Slice and Spice!” Delgado yelled. “Coach is buying!”
Junie bounced. “I love their garlic knots! And, oh! We can play the trivia machine!”
“I haven’t been there in ages,” Daisy said, arms wrapped around Junie’s shoulders. “Will you share some of your knots with me?”
“Pickles, do you need a ride?” Beckett asked, and the goalie gave him a thumbs-up, heading to the locker room.
Molly nudged Junie’s shoulder. “You owe me a rematch on the hockey trivia.”
Junie grinned bigger than she had in weeks. “Prepare to lose.”
She rushed toward the parking lot while the players went to undress in the locker room.
In record time, the kids piled into trucks, sticks clattering, voices loud enough to scare the magpies from the pines.
Daisy’s hand found mine as we walked to my truck, fingers lacing as if they’d done it a thousand times.
Junie climbed into the back seat, already quizzing Molly through the open window about power-play statistics.
I started the engine, glancing at Daisy through the open window as she climbed into her car. “Are you sure you’re ready for this mayhem?”
She smiled, soft and certain. “Absolutely.”
Slice and Spice sat on River Street across from Hudson Hardware.
The building was painted the shade of a ripe jalapeno, its hand-painted sign swinging crooked above a red door strung with chili-pepper lights.
Inside, the air was a glorious clash of oregano and cumin, red-checkered tablecloths bumping up against papel picado banners, and the chalkboard menu boasted “za-cos”—flour tortillas folded over pepperoni and a three-cheese blend with a whisper of salsa, griddled until the cheese bubbled out like molten lava and the edges curled crisp.
“They haven’t changed a thing,” Daisy said, staring up at the mismatched decor, including the life-size statue of a waiter wearing a sombrero.
“It’s weird,” Emmy said as she came in the front door. “We know it.”
Beckett stood and kissed her, then helped her slide into the booth across from Daisy and me.
“How was the studio?” he asked, twirling a stray lock of dark hair that had escaped Emmy’s ponytail. “Good day?”
She nodded. “Yeah. We had your mom and the knitting ladies in this afternoon. They told me to tell you they miss you.”
Beckett laughed. “Next week, I’m there. Tell Ruth she’s going down.”
“Is Pilates a competition?” Daisy asked.
Emmy shook her head.
“Anything’s a competition if you try hard enough,” Beckett said.
Their voices overlapped easily after that. I watched Daisy slot into it without effort, laughing with Emmy, trading looks with Beckett like she’d been doing it for years. Something in my chest ached in the best and worst way.
This was what it could look like.
And I wanted it so badly it scared me.
As if she sensed my gaze lingering, Daisy glanced my way and winked.
I dropped my eyes to my hands, doing my best to hide my grin.
The bell over the door jingled, and Shannon walked in, dropping into the last open chair at our table. “Same tablecloths. Same food. Same jukebox that only plays Dean Martin or Vicente Fernández.”
“Where’s Mom?” Beckett asked.
“The knitting club headed to Vail today to ride the gondola,” Shannon said. “Mason took her. I’m on my own until tonight.”
Emmy tapped a finger against her lips. “Interesting. Because Tate bailed on our plans tonight to go ride the gondola too.”
“Well, shit, little brother,” Beckett said with a laugh. “Maybe this isn’t such an uphill battle anymore. Think they’ll end up together someday?”
I raised a brow. “Oh, so we’re just playing matchmaker with everyone now? Is Shannon next?”
“Don’t you dare.” Shannon pushed back from the table, already halfway to standing.
Beckett caught her arm, grinning. “Relax. You’re safe for now. These two, though.” He pointed between Daisy and me. “I’m invested.”
“Leave them alone,” Emmy said, elbowing him. “You’ll scare her off.”
“Don’t do that,” Shannon added. “I like her better than you.”
Daisy grinned. “I like you too, Shannon.”