Page 32 of Icy Pucking Play

Julia:Still just observing for the feature???

Me:I never should have given you my personal number.

Julia:No you shouldn’t have. See you Saturday! Don't forget to wear your Daniels jersey.

I groan and let my head thunk against the glass again.

Because here's the thing about spending late nights watching Evan Daniels be an amazing uncle and father…

It makes it really hard to remember why falling for him is a terrible idea. Especially when he looks at me like that. Especially when he touches me like that. And especially when he makes me want to be part of those family moments, not just document them.

My phone buzzes again.

Evan:Drive safe. Text me when you get home.

And maybe Julia's right. Maybe it's okay to want more than just the feature.

Maybe it's okay to want...everything.

Even if everything comes with a nine-year-old tornado who never sleeps and a grumpy goalie who thinks everyone is out to get him.

Chapter 10

Evan

"You have got to be kidding me."

The next day after Ry’s last practice , I stare at my truck's very flat tire, wondering what I did to deserve this today. It's not enough that practice ran late, or that I'm already cutting it close for Natalia's game.

No, the universe decided I needed an extra challenge.

"Problems?"

I turn to find Sophie approaching, still carrying her camera gear from practice. She's switched her usual Blades hoodie for a Tiny Terrors shirt—Natalia's hockey team—and something about that makes my chest feel tight.

"Flat tire." I gesture at the obvious. "Because apparently, the gods hate me today."

"The gods gave you that save against Detroit last week." She sets down her equipment and peers at the tire. "This looks more like the work of that construction site you keep parking next to."

"I like that spot."

"You like that spot because it's exactly seventy-two steps from the player entrance, and you're a creature of habit."

I stare at her. "How do you…"

"Research is my thing, remember?" She grins. "Also, I might have counted one day when I was bored."

Of course she did. Nothing gets by this girl.

"Need a ride?" she offers. "I'm headed to the game anyway."

I hesitate. Getting into Sophie's car means close quarters. Small spaces. The scent of her vanilla coffee and that flowery shampoo she uses...

"Unless you'd rather call an Uber and miss the first period?"

"Fine." I grab my bag from the truck. "But I'm paying for gas."

"Such a gentleman." She chirps at me as we walk to her car, a sensible Honda that's definitely seen better days. "Fair warning—the passenger seat sticks sometimes. And the air conditioning only works if you sweet-talk it."

---