Page 74 of Daddies on Ice
“Little things. The way he looks at me when you’re around. Questions about why I’m spending so much time with the team. Last night he asked me point-blank if there was something going on between Jake and me that wasn’t part of the PR plan.”
The coffee turns bitter in my mouth.
Trent has always been protective of Tish, but if he suspects that his best friend has feelings for his sister—feelings that go way beyond friendship—it could destroy everything.
Our friendship, my place on the team, the fragile balance we’ve all been trying to maintain.
“What did you tell him?”
“The truth. That Jake and I are just friends, that it’s all for show.” She pauses, her eyes meeting mine across the table. “But I don’t think he believed me. And Ash, if he starts digging deeper, if he finds out about these pictures…”
She doesn’t need to finish the sentence.
We both know what it would mean.
Trent would lose his mind, and rightfully so.
His little sister being stalked, photographed without her consent, potentially put in danger because of her association with the team, with us.
The Christmas music playing overhead seems to mock the gravity of our situation.
Here we are, surrounded by holiday cheer and twinkling lights, while someone out there is watching, waiting, planning their next move.
“We need to tell Carl,” I say finally. “And we need to figure out who’s behind this before it gets worse.”
“And Trent?”
The question hangs between us like a loaded gun. Because the truth is, we can’t keep this from him much longer.
He’s too smart, too protective, and too invested in his sister’s wellbeing to be kept in the dark.
But telling him means risking everything—our friendship, the team’s stability, and any chance I might have had with the woman sitting across from me.
“I think,” Tish says quietly, her fingers still touching mine, “that my brother already knows more than he’s letting on.”
25
TISH
The hotel hallway feels endless as I make my way to Carl’s room, the manila envelope containing those disturbing photographs clutched against my chest like a shield.
Christmas garland drapes along the corridor walls, twinkling with warm white lights that should feel festive but instead cast eerie shadows in my current state of mind.
The scent of pine from the decorations mingles with the hotel’s generic air freshener, creating an oddly comforting backdrop to my anxiety.
My knuckles rap against Carl’s door three times, sharp and urgent. The sound echoes down the empty hallway. The sound of footsteps approach from the other side.
“Trisha?” Carl’s voice carries through the door, surprised but pleased.
“Yeah, it’s me. Can we talk?”
The door swings open to reveal Carl in a fitted gray henley and dark jeans, his hair slightly mussed as if he’s been running his hands through it.
The sight of him sends that familiar flutter through my stomach, the one that’s been growing stronger each day despite my best efforts to ignore it.
His room mirrors mine in layout, but it somehow feels more lived-in already. A laptop sits open on the desk with papers scattered around it, and his jacket hangs over the back of a chair.
Krystal lined up her two stuffed animals with the neat pillows on her bed, and her favorite blanket is tossed on the covers instead of folded.
