Page 27 of Daddies on Ice
He shakes his head and indicates the hall.
She hesitates, chin tipping higher, then looks toward the autograph tables again.
My heart climbs into my throat. Jake is signing a program for a little boy in a Thunderwolves hat.
He hasn’t noticed. Good.
Another guard steps in and stands off to the side.
A librarian appears at the guard’s elbow like magic, expression firm in that way only librarians can pull off.
The three of them form a small, polite wall. Krista swallows, jaw working, and then lets herself be steered out into the corridor.
The door shuts. I exhale so slowly I get lightheaded.
I move to the side to help funnel the autograph line. Ash meets my eyes as he steps behind the table and his brows lift a fraction in question.
He must have noticed the guards. I give him a small, bland smile to tell him everything is under control.
He nods once, then turns back to a little girl who wants him to sign her paper crown.
The next forty minutes hum like a well-tuned machine. Becky reaches the front with her new best friend glued to her side. “Mom!” she stage whispers. “This is Krystal. Like crystal, but with a K.” She looks proud of the spelling, like she invented it.
Krystal peeks at me from under a fringe of curly red hair. Her green eyes are earnest and a little overwhelmed. She holds a book tight against her chest.
“Hi again, Krystal,” I say.
She nods, then takes Becky’s hand like they’ve been best friends all their live. They go to Ash to get his autograph.
“What’s your name?” he asks Krystal, grinning conspiratorially. He’s mentioned to me before that one of the team’s kids is sweet on him, and I’m betting it’s Krystal.
“K-r-y-s-t-a-l,” she spells, barely above a whisper. Red floods her small cheeks.
He writes carefully, tongue caught between his teeth like he’s drawing a diagram for a play:To Krystal—Keep reading, keep brave. —Ash.
He adds a tiny wolf paw print in the corner and Krystal bites her lip like she’s trying not to squeal. Becky practically vibrates.
They get Carl’s signature last. Krystal grows still and lifts the book just so. “Grandpa,” she whispers, like it’s both a greeting and a spell.
Carl’s whole face changes.
It’s subtle if you don’t know what to look for, but I’m learning.
The hard lines soften, the jaw unclenches, and something like sunlight touches the blue of his eyes. “You like this one?” he asks, tapping the cover.
“She loves it,” Becky supplies. “We’re gonna read it tonight at our sleepover.”
My head snaps up. “We are?”
“Please?” Krystal asks, suddenly brave. “Can I stay at her house? Becky has a bunk bed. She said I can have the top because I’m the guest.”
I blink at Carl. He blinks at me. There’s an early call tomorrow for the team bus and a lot to do to get ready for the tour.
Carl looks at me, a question hitching in the corner of his mouth. I nod. He makes a small approving sound and addresses the girls.
“Bedtime is early,” he says. “You’re up at five.” He looks at me. “Is that right?”
“Yep,” I say. “We’re wheels up by seven. If you two promise to brush teeth on the first try and put on pajamas without complaining, we’ll try it.”
