Chapter Eight #2
Bax and I look over in unison, finding none other than the center of The City Titans, Morgan Brady, grinning up at us from where he stands on the ice.
Flanking him are Lawson Beckett and Oscar Nash, winger and defenseman of The Titans, the latter looking over at Mads as she snorts.
My eyes narrow on him, but Baxter stands with a smile before he heads down to greet Brady, so I’m forced to follow unless I want to look like a lonely chump.
“Hey, man. How’s it going?” Bax asks, reaching out a hand and pulling Brady into a one-armed hug, slapping his back roughly while Brady does the same.
“Not bad, brother. How’s it hanging with you?” Morgan asks, pulling back with an easy smile.
“It’s hanging,” Bax replies, making me roll my eyes with a smirk. He chooses that moment to remember I’m standing nearby, gesturing to me as he says, “This is Caiden—”
“Caiden Miller. What’s up, man?” Morgan interrupts, holding his hand out and pulling me into a man hug much like he gave Baxter. “Big fan of yours. My agent is trying to book some sessions with you.”
“Yeah?” I ask, stepping back with a beaming grin.
“Yeah, man. Got yourself one hell of a waiting list,” Brady comments, gesturing to the other two players and introducing them as though I don’t know Lawson Beckett and Oscar Nash.
I mean, yeah, I didn’t recognize them when they came onto the ice, but with good reason. My attention was otherwise occupado.
I shake Lawson’s hand, smacking him on the back with that bro-hug, offering the same to Oscar, before I tell Brady, “I’m the best for a reason, bro.”
All three of them laugh, Baxter snorting and shaking his head.
“Whose dick do we have to suck to get bumped up the list?” Lawson jokes, waggling his eyebrows at me with enough animation that I know the man is joking.
“Unless my assistant Tori has a dick I don’t know about, you’re shit out of luck, bro,” I snicker. “Come by next week to the gym, and I’ll fit you guys in, no dick-sucking necessary.”
“My man,” Oscar sighs, fist-bumping me before turning toward Baxter. “What’s got your ass here, though, bro? Don’t think I’ve seen you at a rink… ever.”
“Got Morgs’ keys for his Bronco. Benji didn’t want to mail them in case they got lost, but the car is back at your house looking brand new,” Bax answers with a laugh, handing the keys over to Brady.
“You guys are fucking heroes. Thanks,” he says, accepting the keys before placing his fingers in his mouth and whistling loudly enough that I wince. It’s enough to draw the attention of Mads and the man currently squeezing her tight enough that her face turns slightly blue.
Brady gestures for Mads to come over, the little pixie doing exactly that a moment later. She skates to a stop only a foot away from Brady, spraying ice at him and laughing when he sends her an unimpressed look that prickles at my good mood.
“You’re a dick,” the guy says to her, lips twitching, snuffing out the anger as quickly as it came.
“If I’m a dick, what does that make you?
” Maddie snickers before turning her bright eyes to Baxter.
And then me. And it’s a sight I love to see, her cheeks growing a little darker as I grin knowingly at her.
Clearing her throat, she asks, “You guys are still here?” She pauses.
“Wait, where the hell did you even come from, Caid?”
Grin widening, I say, “Well, Blue, when a mommy and a daddy love each other—”
“Oh my God,” she groans, dropping her head back and closing her eyes like she’s praying for patience.
The three hockey players laugh, Oscar reaching over to poke Mads in her bare belly, asking, “You know these guys?”
Maddie’s sigh is full of defeat, and Baxter and I laugh before Bax answers. “Met this morning. She left quite the impression, and not in the way you might think.”
Brady looks at Mads with question marks in his eyes before he blurts, “What the hell did you do this morning?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she grumbles, glaring at Baxter, a funny little sprinkle of amusement swimming in those pretty blue eyes. “Anyway, what do you want? I was in the middle of a competition with Uncle Mack on who could hug the other the tightest. I was winning, too.”
“You liar,” Uncle Mack, who I now recognize as the coach of The City Titans, shouts back before getting distracted with the team milling about the ice.
Mads rolls her eyes and looks at Brady, ignoring Baxter and me, and it only amuses me that much more. “I was winning. Your dad is just a sore loser.”
“Don’t I know it. Here. Take these to the DJ booth for me?” Brady asks, holding the keys out to her with a flutter of his eyelashes that makes her laugh again. When she raises her eyebrow and only looks at his outstretched hand, the man pouts and pleads, “Pretty please.”
Snorting, she takes the keys and starts skating backward. “Fine. But only because you look pathetic when you beg.”
“I’ll give you fucking pathetic,” Brady threatens right before he dives for her quickly. Not quick enough, because the lithe menace swooshes out of the way, her tinkling laughter following after her.
Lawson shakes his head with a fond smile, Oscar’s matching as he turns to us and asks, “So, how do you know Brady’s cousin?”
“We just moved into her apartment building,” I answer, tracking Morgan as he tries to dive for her and misses by a mere inch, cursing colorfully when he topples and falls, sliding over the ice with a glare in the direction Maddie glides, chortling.
“The one she lives in? Or one of the others?” Lawson wonders, laughing under his hand when Maddie retrieves a hockey stick and swipes her cousin’s feet out from under him, sending him right back to the ice as soon as he manages to get himself up.
Then she grabs his skate and awkwardly starts dragging him along the ice, cackling like a frost villain, holding her stick in the air like some victor of a hard-won duel.
The other members of the team are watching them, abandoning their warmup, and Brady is shouting through his laughter as he’s pulled along the ice. “Let me go, you asshole!”
“Call a truce, you lump of shit!” she shouts back, scraping the ice with her blade, dropping her stick, and scooping up the crushed ice in her hand before depositing it into her cousin’s pant leg.
“Mads, for fuck’s sake,” Brady damn near squeals, arms flailing when Mads grabs his skate and stick once more and continues to take him on an adventure around the ice.
When she passes the other players, who all sprinkle the downed man with more crushed ice, he yells, “Truce! I’m calling truce, you fucking menace! ”
She drops his foot instantly, beaming down at her cousin before offering her hand and helping him up. “Knew you’d see things my way.”
Then she takes a bow at the others, who all cheer her on like the enabling bastards they clearly are. I fucking love it. This is by far the best shit I’ve ever seen. Today really is shaping up to be amazing.
Baxter clears his throat, covering a laugh with a cough, before he finally answers Lawson’s forgotten question. “Apparently the one she lives in. Had an incident that involved ice, noodles, and a bunch of other shit.”
Oscar and Lawson both send us confused looks and I beam. “Don’t ask. It was a whole thing we promised not to discuss.”
They look more intrigued than put off, but they let it drop, turning back to the funny girl putting on a helmet that Morgan snaps tightly onto her head just after throwing her hat toward her uncle.
As soon as he’s done, they both grip one another’s helmets before headbutting each other, Mads teetering on her skates for a moment before she catches herself again.
When she looks over at us, she holds her stick up and says, “Hey, look! I’m part of the team! Puck me, bitches.”
Silence answers her for a long moment before everyone nearby starts laughing, and her head drops back with an audible groan. “That sounded better in my head.”
“You’re fucking weird,” Morgan snickers.
“You’re weird, you six-toed goose,” she volleys, making him fake a gasp.
“You promised that would stay between us,” he dramatically accuses, right before he pushes her and she flails before dropping like a sack of shit to the ice, all while she cackles like it’s just another day for her.
Hell, I could believe it is, too, just based on this morning.