Chapter 32 – Breaking the Ice Novel (Easton & Caroline) Free Online

Easton lazily made a circle around the boards, eventually passing us. His movements were loose and easy. He tapped on the glass with his stick as he skated past.

Hailey’s eyes grew big as she realized who he was. “Mom, that was Easton. Easton is a hockey player. Did you know that? Did you know Mr. E is a hockey player? Did you? Did you? I wonder if he’ll sign our jerseys. Oh. Oh. This is his number. Look, Mom, this is his number!” Hailey bounced in her seat, pointing at the number on her chest.

“Yes, I did. I—” My words were lost in the jabbering of my daughter. She was too wound up to listen. I turned to Heath, who rolled his eyes, and I had to laugh. He was coming out of his grief and turning back into the son I knew. I’d been so worried he might actually never be that happy-go-lucky kid again.

“I knew who he was all along. He’s Big E,” Heath said with a superior smirk. Even Hailey stopped her constant stream of words to gape at him.

“You did not,” Hailey and I both said at the same time.

He shrugged and didn’t say any more. Every time Easton came to the condo, Heath had stared at him with hero worship in his brown eyes. Maybe he had known all along but been afraid to say anything. Easton would get a kick out of this. Next time I saw him, I’d be sure to tell him that Heath had rendered Hailey speechless.

My daughter shrugged, already bored with our conversation, and leapt to her feet. She pounded on the glass with her little fists, shouting Easton’s name. “Easton! Easton! Easton!”

I guess Hailey didn’t need an answer or explanation as to why I hadn’t told them Easton played hockey. One obstacle crossed with minor damage. I let out a sigh of relief.

Heath shot up next to her and pounded on the glass too. He didn’t shout Easton’s name, but he was smiling broadly, as if this was his best day ever. Their excitement warmed my insides. Easton had done the right thing by them, even though I’d had my doubts. Maybe he did have some fathering instincts, and maybe I was too overprotective and worried too much.

Easton skated by again and casually tossed a hockey puck over the glass. Heath caught it and held it up for us to see. His grin spread wider than before.

Hailey jumped up and down and pounded even harder, wanting her own puck. Easton did a slow, lazy circle and tossed another. Hailey missed it, but I caught it and handed it to her. She fist-bumped Heath and erupted into another steady string of chattering, talking so fast I had a hard time understanding her. Nothing unusual there. She was talking to her brother anyway, so I turned away and took a sip of the beer I’d bought earlier. I never really knew if Heath understood her because of some twin-bond thing they had going or if he only pretended to do so.

I glanced at Junie. Her eyes were glued to the ice. I followed her gaze in an attempt to figure out what guy she was so zeroed-in on. Could it be Kaden who was the current subject of Junie’s attention? Or would that be the current victim she was stalking? Hard to tell with Junie, but she never led guys on. She was in it for sex, fun, and nothing long-term. These hot hockey players were right up her alley and prime game. I was surprised she hadn’t hooked up with any of them yet, but maybe she was taking her time and savoring the hunt.

My attention strayed back to Easton. He was all business now, concentrating on scoring drills with the two other guys on his line. He moved with the speed and precision of a trained athlete, a man who’d taken advantage of his innate physical ability and honed his body and mind to reach the highest level of his chosen sport. Easton was good, really good, and I was proud of him even if I didn’t have the right to be.

For a long time, I’d resented hockey, blamed the sport for ripping him away from me. Now I saw things as they were. If we’d stayed together back then, we wouldn’t have lasted. We were too young with too many strikes against us. Young love burned hot and fast but often didn’t have staying power as the couple matured and grew in different and opposing directions.

Easton might have been the love of my teenage life, but I’d find the right man, one who made time for me and the kids rather than disappearing for a week at a time on a road trip, one who wasn’t surrounded by women who’d do anything to hook up with a hockey player, one who didn’t live in the limelight and take advantage of the fame.

I wanted a quiet life. I didn’t want to be in the spotlight, nor did I want my kids subjected to life under a microscope. I made a mental note to have a discussion with Easton about his public life versus our private life and what we’d do to protect the kids.

I sighed and rubbed my eyes, suddenly weary. I had a predatory female on the right side of me and, on the other side, two kids who hero-worshipped a man they didn’t know was their father. Here I was, struggling against an insane attraction to Easton that collided with my unreasonable jealousy toward my kids’ growing attachment to him. Even worse, thoughts of him invaded my mind all day and night long. When sleep finally claimed me,  y subconscious didn’t give me a break, either, and conjured up erotic dreams of things I wanted to do to him—hot, dirty things, the dirtier the better.

I was a hot mess and miring myself deeper in the muck every minute of every day.

Easton’s insanely generous check sat in my bank account barely touched. I was afraid to spend it for fear it’d go more quickly than planned. Next week, I’d register for classes at a local college, thereby cementing my commitment to living in this area for the next few years. Later, I’d go Christmas shopping and probably spend too much money making this first Christmas without Mark a good one for the kids.

I wasn’t sure I’d succeed, but I’d do my best.

Mark had loved Christmas. Every year we’d picked out a tree and decorated it as a family. This year, I’d continue some of Mark’s family traditions and add a few of my own. We’d create new memories and honor the old ones, and we’d find our new normal.

I’d adjust to Easton’s presence in my life, as I both hoped and feared he was here to stay—because of the children, of course.

It’d been years since I’d seen hockey played live, and live hockey was so much better than hockey on television. I gave up trying to follow the game and resigned myself to my obsession with Easton. My hungry eyes ate him up, watching his every move when he was on the ice and on the bench. I marveled at the power in his legs and the speed with which he skated from one end of the ice to the other, not to mention the skill he exhibited handling the puck. He’d been good back in his teens, but he was far beyond good now. He was exceptional in an arena filled with exceptional athletes at the top of their game.

I’d stalked him online. The sports bloggers and online websites touted him as one of the most talented rookies of the season. I easily saw why. He stood out. He made plays. He was dependable and steady, yet unpredictable and dangerous to the opposing team.

My kids were enamored of him, and I was conflicted. I didn’t want to like him, yet I did. I didn’t want to be attracted to him, yet I was. I didn’t want to love him, yet it might be too late.

Easton point of view

Having my children and the mother of those children watch me playing hockey had a profound effect on me. I hadn’t realized how emotional I’d be until I saw those kids’ faces pressed against the glass as they shouted at me to get my attention.

I choked up, my eyes burned with unshed tears, and I fought to hold these emotions overwhelming me in check. They looked great in my jerseys, and several teammates approached me at the intermission to shake my hand and congratulate me on being a father. Better late than never, but as soon as it could be given the circumstances.

The word sped through the team faster a puck sped to the net. Once a few of my buddies knew, all the coaches and staff knew. Cousin Coop wanted to meet everyone, and I promised we’d arrange that soon and begged him not to tell my family. I wanted to tell them in person.

Then there was Caro. One look at her in my hockey jersey, and I wanted to stamp my name all over her. Jealousy clawed my insides knowing she and my kids had someone else’s last name. I planned on rectifying the twins’ last name as soon as they knew about me. As far as Caro was concerned, the only way to change her name would be to marry her.

Marriage was something I’d always imagined I’d do far into the future when I found the right woman. Caro might be the woman I wanted to fuck, but I didn’t know where we’d end up beyond that, and I didn’t want to think about such things.

Better to focus on today. Enjoy my twenties. Party while I could. Be the best dad when I could. And stay away from long-term relationships with any woman. I was too young to know what I wanted out of life, including the woman I wanted. In my opinion, I’d only get one chance to do this right. When I married, I’d marry for life. I suppose everyone thought they would, but I was determined to make my marriage last, just as I’d been determined to be a professional hockey player. Failure wasn’t an option.

After the game, Caro took the kids home. Junie and I went to the after-game party, but my heart wasn’t in it. When Kaden offered to give Junie a ride home later, I had zero reason to stick around.

Instead of going to my condo, I stopped at a grocery store and made a purchase. Once home, I hesitated at my door, crossed the hall, and listened at Caro’s door like some kind of sick stalker. When I head the television, I knocked lightly. I wiped my palms on my dress pants and ran my fingers through my hair. Plastering a pleasant smile on my face, I waited.

A few seconds later, the door opened. Caro stood there, dressed in sweats and a hoodie, with fuzzy slippers on her feet. Her luxurious hair was tied up in a ponytail, and her skin was devoid of makeup. She looked sexier than any model I’d ever taken to a black-tie affair.

“Easton, what are you doing here?”

Knowing her weakness, I held up a carton of Ben and Jerry Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream.

She clapped her hands together in child-like glee. “You remembered.”

I remembered, all right. I remembered smearing it all over her body, even the more intimate parts, and licking it off. My dick responded with a hell yeah, ready for a repeat of that seven-year-old performance.

Her face flushed when she realized what I was actually remembering.

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