Page 16 of Second Chance with the Single Dad Goalie
To Blake.
Seeing him as a father is…, surprising. Disarming.
Would those have been our kids if …?
I cut the thought off before it can settle, pushing it aside like an old book I don’t want to reopen. Some pages are better left unread.
Chapter four
Blake
Pressure.
It wraps around my chest like a vice, tight and unrelenting. I exhale slowly, pushing it down as I lace up my skates. The locker room hums with the usual pre-game energy - laughter, chatter, the sharp rip of tape against sticks, gear being strapped on, and skates clacking against the floor. The scent of sweat and menthol rub lingers in the air.
A firm pat on my shoulder pulls me from my thoughts.
“Buddy, what’s up?” Tomas grins down at me, already half-dressed in his gear.
I tug my glove onto my right hand. “I’m good.”
Tomas snorts. “Yeah? You don’t look good.”
James plops down on the bench across from me, smirking. “He never looks good before a game.”
“True,” Tomas says, rubbing his chin like he’s deep in thought. “Every time, he gets this intense, broody look - like he’s solving some complex math equation instead of getting ready to stop pucks.”
“Maybe he’s just wondering how he got stuck with us,” James adds.
I roll my eyes and snort. “I wonder that every day. Especially about you.”
That earns a round of laughter from the guys.
Tomas chuckles. "Man, I swear you stress more than Coach does."
"Maybe if you actually stressed a little, you wouldn’t get so many penalties," I shoot back with a grin.
Laughter ripples through the group. Tomas presses a hand to his chest, mock offended. "That hurts, man. Truly."
"Just stating facts. You’re welcome," I say, shaking my head.
"Okay, okay, let’s not break his concentration before we even get out there," Liam says, stepping in. He claps Tomas on the back before turning to me. "Leave him be, guys."
The others drift back to their routines, and Liam nudges me with his elbow. "You okay, dude?"
I let out a breath. "Yeah…, just pre-game jitters, same as always."
Liam grins. "You’d think after all these years, you'd be immune to them."
"You’d think," I mutter, rolling my wrist. “You get them too?”
"Yeah, even right now. Anyway, how are the little silent monsters?"
I huff out a laugh. "Mia and Nico are great. Still asking a thousand questions a day, and full of energy.
He chuckles. "Sounds about right."
I tilt my head. "How is Hazel, by the way?"
