Maybe it was normal for them to gather here, but he never did. It was a little like crashing a party. Henry—the trainer—waved him in and stepped aside so that Beak could maneuver down the row to the last seat in front of the door. The backup’s seat. He got situated and checked Silas’s face. The kid’s eyes scanned the ice, watching plays develop, waiting to lunge into action. His skating looked loose and controlled.
“To Crikey!” Silas shouted at his forwards when they’d missed their open man. Detroit was setting up a rush. Beacon felt it, and he saw from Silas’s body language that the kid between the pipes felt it, too.
Come on, buddy. You can do this in game seven the same as you do it in practice.
O’Doul made a nuisance of himself, so by the time Detroit got a shot it wasn’t much of a shot at all. Silas flicked it away with all the concern of a horse batting a fly with its tail. And just like that the kid made his first save of the night.
“Yeah!” Beacon yelled.
Detroit went in for the rebound, but it took them a couple of seconds. Silas had time to get into position and grab the puck right out of the air.
The whistle blew, and Silas waited for the ref to collect it from his glove.
“He looks solid,” Trevi said under his breath from beside Beacon.
“Yeah, he does,” Beacon agreed.
The minutes in the first period ticked down slowly. The Brooklyn team relaxed into the unusual situation, pressing on Detroit as best they could. As Beacon watched, it began to work. His teammates created scoring opportunities against a flustered opponent. They took shot after shot on goal, while Detroit was forced to play defense.
Then something amazing happened—O’Doul put one into the net with only two minutes left in the period. And then Trevi got one ninety-two seconds later, with a deke that could have won an Academy Award.
The Bruisers fans in the audience erupted with glee. It was 2–0.
After one more faceoff, the team clomped back to the dressing room for the intermission, elated. “Well played!” Coach hollered.
“How’d that feel?” Beacon asked Silas.
“Felt great. You said I was gonna be scored on tonight, but I think you were wrong.” Silas removed his helmet and wiped the sweat away with his arm.
“Yeah?”
“If anyone’s getting scored on, it’s you. Coach would be crazy not to send you in now that we have the momentum. They won’t know what hit ’em. Better keep stretching.”
He was right. Beacon was sent in at the start of the second period. “Ya miss me?” he asked his opponents as they skated past.
“Thought I got a night without your ugly mug,” Detroit’s captain muttered.
“Not so much!” Beacon called after him.
They won game seven 3–1, and advanced to the Stanley Cup finals for the first time in four years.
? ? ?
Beacon didn’t leave the rink until midnight. The dressing room had swarmed with reporters after the game, and Beacon told them all he’d felt a bit ill just before the puck dropped. “Mighta been something I ate,” he said every time someone asked why he hadn’t started tonight.
It sounded better than “I freaked out and went AWOL.”
By the time he’d boarded the bus, Lauren texted him that Elsa was asleep. And by the time his key card let him into his room, all the lights were out. As he tiptoed through the dark toward the king-sized bed, Lauren rolled over and sat up.
“Hi,” she whispered.
“Hi, beautiful.” He took off his suit jacket and kicked off his shoes. Then he stripped down to his boxers and padded into Elsa’s room.
His daughter was asleep, hugging her pillow. He kissed her head and then retreated to his room, closing the door behind him and locking it.
Then he dropped his shorts and practically did a swan dive into bed with his woman.
“Whoa,” she said as he did the military crawl toward her for a kiss. “Somebody’s happy to see me.”
“You have no idea.” The conversation stopped while he plundered her mouth for a few pleasant minutes. Then, with a happy sigh, he rolled to the side and pulled her onto his chest. “Thank you for taking care of my girl tonight. She got her period, huh? I don’t think that ever happened before.”
“It hadn’t,” Lauren said softly. “And it’s pretty freaky the first time. Seeing your own blood doesn’t seem normal, you know?”
“Except at the hockey rink,” he joked. “No, but seriously. Hans and I wouldn’t have been nearly so helpful with that.”
“Right place, right time,” Lauren said lightly.
He ran his nose along the smooth skin of her forehead. “I love you both so much. How were your seats tonight?”
“They were great. Except Elsa thinks we’re due a partial refund because you didn’t play a third of the time.”
He laughed into her silky hair. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“Was it bad that you were late?” she asked, sounding awfully worried. “Are they going to fine you?”
“I really have no idea. What’s done is done.” He put a hand right onto her breast. “Speaking of things getting done . . .”
“Smooth transition.”
“I know, right?” He rolled, pushing her onto her back. Pushing his hips down against hers, he kissed her again.
“Mmm,” Lauren said into his mouth. “I love game night.”
It was true that they’d had some of their most energetic sex after a win. He was always too wired to go to sleep. But sex wasn’t his mission right now. “Lo,” he whispered between kisses. “Did you test yet?”
She stilled beneath him.
“Did you pee on the stick?”
Slowly, she shook her head.
“I could run out and buy one right now. It’s time, right?”
He sat up, but she grabbed his hands. “Don’t.”
“Why?”
With a groan, she sat up, too. “In the first place, if you’re buying a pregnancy test at midnight, it’s going to end up in the gossip columns.”
He threw his head back and laughed.
“But . . . I’m just not ready.”
His laughter died away. “Why, honey? Don’t you want to know? I’m dyin’ here.” He cupped her soft face in one hand.
“Lots of pregnancies don’t take,” she said, turning her head to the side.
“Thing is . . .” He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “We can keep trying. As many times as it takes. With lots of practice in between. And even if it never works, I’m still so fucking happy that you’re here. It’s not just about the baby, Lo. Tell me we’re on the same page.”
Her eyes widened and then went soft. “It’s not just about the baby. I love you. I’m in this no matter what.”
In all their years together, nothing she’d ever said had made him as happy as he was right now. He pulled her into his lap and held her even closer. And when he exhaled, it came out shakily. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I think I really needed to hear that.”
“You’re welcome.” She punctuated her words with a kiss on the underside of his jaw.
“So now you’ll pee on the stick, right?”
Lauren groaned. “One track mind, much?”
“But if we know we belong together, then why wait to find out if there’ll be a baby joining this party in the winter?”