Page 3 of Hat Trick Daddies

I smooth stray hairs from my forehead as I adjust my jacket collar. My long, blonde hair always has a mind of its own and today is no different.

Leaning in closer, I check for smudged mascara or any other stray smudges on my face. “You’ve got this,” I murmur.

My reflection stares back, eyes sharp and steady, and the smell of my vanilla-scented chapstick wafts faintly as I reapply it.

With a deep breath, I leave the bathroom and head toward the doors leading to the ice. The echoes of practice grow louder.

The moment I step into the rink proper, the cold air stings my cheeks in the best way.

Skates carve clean lines across the rink, their smooth precision amplified by the occasional clatter of pucks slamming into boards.

The ice is alive under the players’ movements.

I lean against the barrier, the cool surface pressing against my palms as I watch the practice game unfold.

The familiar cadence of the game begins to work its magic, reminding me of what I’ve always loved about hockey.

This is why I’m here—why I’ve worked so hard to get here.

My dad’s been rooting for me every step of the way, and I can’t wait to call him later to tell him I nailed this job.

CHAPTER TWO

Brooks

Lacing up my skates,I enjoy the familiar tug of leather against my hands.

The locker room smells like it always does: sweat, damp gear, and the smell of ice. It’s a smell that would probably make most people gag, but for me, it’s comforting.

Hockey has been the one constant through all the years of ups and downs in my life.

The guys are loud today, louder than usual, their banter echoing off the walls.

Tyler and Nick are up to something, as usual, their laughter louder than everyone else’s, their eyes glinting back and forth at one another.

I shake my head, smirking.

Those two are a whirlwind, chaotic energy that makes me feel both protective and exhausted at the same time. I glance over at them as they wrestle over a protein bar, their identical grins practically lighting up the room.

“Focus, Porter twins,” I call out, keeping my tone light but firm. “We’ve got drills to get through today, and I’m not covering for your lazy asses.”

Tyler flips me a thumbs-up without looking, still trying to pry the snack from Nick’s hands. I roll my eyes and finish tying my skates.

As I stand, stretching out my legs, the door to the locker room opens, and the rookie attendant pokes his head in. “Hey, Brooks. Doc Perry’s here. She’s watching from the rink.”

I pause, caught off guard.

The new team medical fellow? I haven’t even met her yet.

The whistle shrills, and we’re off. The team spreads out across the ice, the sharp sound of skates cutting into the cold surface filling the arena. I track the puck as it glides from stick to stick, waiting for the moment to strike.

The play shifts suddenly, and I see my opportunity.

One of the rookies is breaking toward the goal, his shoulders hunched as he barrels forward.Nope. Not today, kid.

I lower my stance and push off, closing the distance in a few hard slices with my skates. Timing it perfectly, I slam into him, my shoulder connecting with his chest.

The impact sends him sprawling onto the ice, his stick clattering to the boards as he falls splayed out against the ice. He skids for a couple of feet, ramming against the boards with a loud thud.

---