Page 70 of Icebound

Instead, I’m getting distracted by a girl who I have no right getting jealous over, but I can’t stop myself from imagining them together.

Nina doesn’t belong to me, and I’m not hers. I know this, don’t I know it, but all I can see is her smile directed at Cruz.

It was her real one, too, which hurts.

That’s the type of guy she belongs with—not a man who wakes up with lower back pain every morning. I run my hand through my damp hair, trying not to rip out the strands. I’ve never lost it this much over a girl.

It’s got to be the adrenaline.

Yeah, it’s the adrenaline.

A door slams.

My jaw locks up. That better not be Cruz. I don’t want to deal with the kid right now.

Patty thunders into the humid locker room, and my back muscles relax until I realize his usual golden-boy demeanor has been replaced by a storm of fury. In a flash, he grips my jersey and shoves me against the wooden stalls.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” he screams inches from my face. “What the fuck were you thinking fighting Cruz in the middle of a game? This isn’t the fucking minors!”

Holy shit. The man never curses.

His fist shakes, so I keep my voice steady. “I wasn’t thinking. Simple as that. I’m not making excuses. Sorry, man, I know I fucked up, and it won’t happen again.”

“Damn right, you did.” He slams his fist against the wood. I’ve never seen Patty lose it like this. “What’s Cruz been saying to you, huh? Better have been something about fucking your sister since I got thrown out of the game for starting shit to save your ass. Thirty-Eight knew not to fight back too, so you’re lucky this is a blowout.”

“He made some comments about Nina that I didn’t like, so I’m not repeating them. I lost it for a second, but I’m good now.”

Patty grunts, releasing his grip on me. Without warning, he spins around and hammers a fist against the wood. The noise vibrates the skates dangling in my stall.

“That’s what this is about?” he shouts. “A girl? You’re shitting me, right?”

I throw off my pads, needing something to focus on so I don’t have to look at the scowl on his face. He’s right to judge me, but it doesn’t mean I like it.

Patty squeezes his eyes shut like he’s trying to calm himself down. “I got thrown out of the game after my daughter said her first word, which wasn’t ‘daddy,’ and you’re worrying about a girl? Do you hear yourself right now, Tremblay?”

“Aw, shit.” All the tension drains from my shoulders. “I’m sorry, man.”

He runs his fingers through his disheveled blond hair, chest heaving as he collapses onto the bench. Nina, Cruz, and the game are still on my mind, but Patty's defeated slump feels more important right now.

Gripping his shoulder, I take a seat beside him. “Was it ‘fuck?’”

Patty scoffs. “No. I wish. It’d be better than what she said. At least that’d be a good story.”

“What was it?”

He rests his elbows on his knees, hanging his head. “It was Nanna. She looked my mom dead in the eye, giggled, and said, ‘Nanna,’ while I was standing right there mashing some potatoes for her.”

He looks so beaten down that sympathy hits me like a puck to the glove. “I mean, you do have two moms, so it’s two against one for the Nanna versus Daddy battle.”

He focuses on the ground, not acknowledging my comment. “Yeah, I guess. I got in Betty’s face and started saying Dadda, and she cried, and then I had to leave for the game.”

He kicks a helmet on the ground. “Sorry, I lost it on you, but I’ve been in a shit mood. It feels like I’m missing half of my daughter’s life being in the League. I’m lucky I’ve got my moms for support, but they’re practically the ones raising her. I’m a shitty dad. Sometimes—” he stops.

“What?”

His knuckles whiten. “I can’t say it.”

“You can. No judgment. I know I’m not a father, but I’m a good listener.”