My mom had never remarried, never been interested in another relationship. She often declared that my father had been the love of her life. She’d been lucky enough to find a good man once, and she wasn’t messing with her perfect record.

What effects would losing Mark have on my kids long term? Did they feel guilt like I did and blame themselves or even their mother? Was there anything Caro and I could do to help them through it? I truly had no fucking idea. I was ill-equipped for fatherhood.

I scanned the crowd and found Brick. He’d found out a few years ago he was a father to a little girl. Brick had been the ultimate party boy until Macy appeared on his doorstop—literally. She was a figure skater too. He doted on her and was constantly showing anyone he cornered countless pictures of her.

I wondered if picking his brain would make him suspicious, or maybe I should tell him the truth? I didn’t plan on keeping my fatherhood a secret, but I hadn’t figured out when or how to tell the rest of my teammates, friends, and family.

Shoving my chair away from the table, I walked over to where Brick sat with several of the veterans. I wedged a chair between him and Matt LaRue, who was also a dad to two boys. Maybe they’d both impart some advice to a new father.

They shot daggers at me. I was a rookie, after all, pushing my way into their conversation. Not normal or accepted rookie behavior, but I’d never been a rule follower or even cared about shit like that.

“What the fuck, rookie?” Brick growled, while Matt said nothing but cocked his head to indicate interest.

“Sorry, but I need some advice.” I lowered my voice so only they could hear, though I did notice team gossip Ziggy leaning across the table to eavesdrop. If you wanted anything spread to every member of the team, he was your go-to guy. He loved to be in on everything and the guy in the know.

I glowered at him with a silent mind-your-own-business warning, and he smirked at me. Ziggy wasn’t easily intimidated, but that held true of just about everyone on the team, or we wouldn’t be professional hockey players.

“Advice? Take off your skate guards before getting on the ice,” Brick said and elbowed Matt.

“Don’t put your helmet on backward,” Matt laughed. The two of them fist-bumped as if they were fucking comedians. I rolled my eyes.

“Fuck you both. Funny. Really funny. I don’t need hockey advice.”

“You sure as fuck needed it tonight,” Brick pointed out, and I cringed. The goalie didn’t seem to care he’d dealt a near knockout blow. Hockey players were harsh like that. Either develop a thick skin or get out of the game.

I shot him a glare before continuing. “I need dad advice.”

Their smirks slid off their faces in record time, and they gaped at me in open-mouthed disbelief. I’d delivered the ultimate sucker punch. They hadn’t seen that coming.