by June Winters
Mr. Tremblay's eyes grew with worry. “I—I don't think we'll have to trade you, Lance.”
“Good to hear.” Lance winked at Kip. “Anyway, I've gotta get back to the team. Enjoy the game, gentlemen.”
“Good luck tonight,” Mr. Tremblay said.
Kip silently fumed as Lance left.
But before he returned to the Brawlers dressing room, Lance dropped a surprise visit to the good people in the Arena Operations department.
“Hey, guys! Got a favor to ask.”
Chapter 35
Paige
Lance had been right: after a long day and a trip to the doctor, Irie was ready for a nap. Paige put her down in her new crib and waited for her to sleep.
If Paige felt abandoned by Lance rushing out of his condo to go play his hockey game … the feeling didn't last long. He'd thought of everything, after all. The hockey tickets seemed like a crude, clueless meat head gesture. But was it really that simple? Was he really that dumb?
Why would he go through all that trouble with preparing Irie's room if asking Paige to watch a hockey game was the big pay off? And why would he need to keep his sister on hand all day to make sure things went smoothly? All that seemed excessive, to say the least.
Slowly, it dawned on Paige that, yes, Lance had a plan—and she was still very much in the midst of it.
Once Irie dozed off, Paige snuck into the living room, where Ella was flipping through her magazine. Paige joined her on the expansive leather couch, and the two women talked for hours. Paige could finally find out what kind of guy Lance was. And even though Ella was his sister? She turned out to be a pretty unbiased source of information. The brother and sister had grown up always at each other's throats, always doing battle, and Ella was quick to point out the exact instances of when Lance had been a dick-bag and treated her poorly.
But ever since last year, when Ella started dating his best friend, Radar, their relationship had begun to change.
“Since then, we get along so much better. He's nicer. Less of an asshole. He's really grown up a lot, I think.”
Although they still bickered, now it was mostly a playful, loving sort of sibling rivalry. “Mostly,” Ella added with a laugh.
Really, Ella seemed just as driven as her brother. She was a self-made interior decorator when she could have easily chosen to live off of the excesses of Lance's fortunes. Or, now that she was married to a hockey player of her own, Ella could've lived off of Radar's millions. But she wasn't interested in that—she loved her job, and being married to a hockey player or having a baby wasn't going to change that.
Paige admired Ella. Secretly, Paige found herself hoping that, if she did someday end up with Lance, she could be as strong as Ella and pursue her career as a nurse. Regardless, Paige could tell that she and Ella could easily be good friends. Sometimes, when you met someone, things clicked and conversation flowed so effortlessly and you just knew that you'd always be close.
Close, like sisters.
When Irie woke from her nap and dinner-time rolled around, Ella took Paige and Irie to her favorite French restaurant. They both ordered steaks. Paige was sure it must've been expensive, because not only was it the best steak she'd ever had—but no prices were to be found anywhere on the menu. When dinner was over, Ella quickly snatched up the bill and wouldn't let Paige see it no matter how much she protested.
“This is Lance's money,” Ella said as she stuck a couple bills in with the check. “He told me that you'd probably try to pay, but he made me swear that I wouldn't let you. Dinner's on him tonight.”
Paige simpered. “He thought of everything, didn't he?”
Awed or perhaps befuddled, Ella let out a laugh. “You know what? He actually did. I'm pretty amazed, to be honest with you. I've never seen him like this. He must be really crazy about you, Paige.” Ella smiled at Irie, who was busily smearing red spaghetti sauce across her cherubic cheeks. “And I know he's just head-over-heels for this little messy eater!”
Under the table, Paige fidgeted with her hands. “Ella, is he planning something for tonight?”
“I've been sworn to secrecy.” Ella smiled. “We should get going. It's almost game-time.”
Chapter 36
Lance
Boston roared as Lance led the charge out onto the ice for warm-ups. Skating hard, Lance made a spirited bee-line straight to Section 4, Row 1, Seats 1-3.
Behind the glass, he saw their faces—Paige, Irie and Ella—and felt a warm wave of relief.
Whew, they made it. Now the rest is up to me.
Lance cut an aggressive stop just in front of the girls' seats, covering the glass with a spray of ice and snow. He took off his helmet and waved at Irie. Her big eyes filled with awe and wonder when she realized, hey, I know that guy! She smiled and danced wildly in Paige's arms, and Lance felt his heart break in all the right ways.
Lance turned his smile on Paige. She was gorgeous, more beautiful than he'd ever seen her, and he didn't have a single doubt about what he planned to do.
Freeing a hand from his glove, he placed his fingertip on the snow-covered glass and began to draw a heart. When it was done, he blew a kiss at Paige and skated off just as fast as he'd arrived.
And then, as hard as it was to do, he had to put those girls completely out of his mind.
It was time to go to war.
***
“C'mon, boys, c'mon,” Lance grumbled on the bench as he waited for his next shift.
The Brawlers hadn't played the kind of game he'd hoped for. He'd hoped his team could strike early and fast, so they could stomp on the accelerator and never look back.
Instead, late in the third period, the Brawlers trailed the New York Scouts 2-1.
Poor ice conditions made for a slow, ugly game. The puck refused to stay flat on the ice, bobbling and flipping and jumping over stick blades instead. Conditions like that made even the simplest skills, like a five-foot pass, a high-risk venture.
It wasn't the sort of game that favored a high-skill player like Lance. With the puck leaping around with a mind of its own, everyone had to play safe, and every inch of neutral zone ice was hotly contested. It was a game of tug-of-war all night between the two teams.
Sometimes, the Hockey Gods wanted you to battle for it.
Line change with less than a minute to go.
Lance leaped over the boards and joined the action on the ice with his two wingers, Stone and Radar. The Scouts carried the puck into the Brawlers' end and shoveled it in deep. The visiting team wanted to let the clock run out, and they were content to grind the puck along the boards.
Valuable seconds ticked off the clock. Twenty-five remained. While Radar worked hard trying to dig the puck free from a Scouts player, Lance had to stay in position, covering his man. Shea joined the board battle, shoving a Scouts player to the ice with a snarl.
Fifteen seconds left on the clock, but Radar and Shea finally emerged with the puck. The three-man unit bolted up ice, pushing the New York defense back, back, back.
Radar fired a pass at Lance; the puck skipped across the ice like a rock thrown across the surface of a pond. The rubber disc tumbled end-over-end, flying through the air—before Lance batted the puck out of mid-air, settled it down, and cradled it on the blade of his stick.
A two-on-one.
Lance sent a quick pass to Stone, then followed through, crashing the net.
Stone fired a shot, low and hard, that the Scouts goalie stopped by kicking out his leg pad. But the rebound squirted right to Lance. Lance collected the puck, time slowing, and made sure that the puck stayed calm on the blade of his stick …
Before he snapped his wrists and flicked the puck into the yawning cage.
Tie game.
***
The Scouts had given Lance a good scare, but once they tied the game, he knew the Brawlers weren't going to lose in overtime. Tying the game with mere seconds left had taken all the wind out of New York's sails.
Boston, however,
was still roaring at the start of overtime. Lance took one quick look over at Paige and Irie. He was glad he'd thought to buy a pair of those baby earmuffs for Irie. He'd hate to think that her ears might be hurting thanks to all the noise.
Then he glided to center ice to take the faceoff.
Lance won the draw cleanly, shoveling the puck back to Shea. Shea got rid of it in a hurry with a short pass up the wing to Radar. Radar skated the puck into the zone, drew in a defender, then flipped a neat little backhand pass over to Lance. Lance, feeling more confident now, turned on the jets and beat his man in a footrace to the inside. Lance streaked alone into the slot and the second the New York goalie lowered his stance, he fired a rocket just between the goalie's ear and shoulder.
The Boston crowd jumped from their seats and exploded into a raucous cheer. The Brawlers' goal song blasted from the arena speakers, and Lance's teammates emptied the bench to celebrate the victory on the ice.
But when his teammates turned to leave the ice and head for the dressing room, Lance stopped them.
“Wait, wait, wait. Don't leave yet, guys. I need you here for this.”
His teammates all took a knee along the boards, and Lance motioned for a microphone from one of the arena staff.
Chapter 37
Paige
It was a peculiar thing, sitting front row and watching Lance from Boston in his own element. She could still barely wrap her head around the idea—that the man she'd been desperately searching out for two years was a professional hockey player. She knew she'd lucked out. Just finding him would've been enough. But finding out he was a popular pro hockey player, beloved by his city? And that he wanted to be Irie's Dad?
Well … that was enough to make a girl a little weak in the knees. And watching him do his thing on the ice made her even weaker.
Paige didn't know a lot about hockey, but she could plainly see that Lance was head-and-shoulders more talented than the rest. Something about the way he moved around the ice—so fast, so strong, so efficient. Like watching a shark power its way through the water, Lance gave one push with his skate and whoosh, he was flying right past the opponent. The crowd came alive when he had the puck, too—everyone's heads perked up, and an electric excitement buzzed in the air, as if they knew he could do something superhuman at any given moment.
For good reason, too, as Lance netted the game's two most important goals, and just in the nick of time.
But when the game ended, Lance kept his teammates on the ice. He immediately skated over and started a back-and-forth with some arena workers. Paige knew he was up to something.
“Oh my God, what's he doing?” Paige murmured. “Do you know what he's doing, Ella?”
Ella's smile said that she most certainly did know what he was doing. “I told you, I'm sworn to secrecy!”
At last, after a bit of explaining, the arena workers gave Lance a microphone. He took off his helmet and threw it along the ice, passing it to his teammates, and took the stage at center ice.
Lance thumped the microphone. “Hey there, Boston! Everybody hear me okay?”
The Boston crowd cheered in the affirmative. Some fans began to chant his name: “Lance! Lance! Lance!”
“Heck of a game, eh? I'm glad you could all come down tonight and watch. I hope you had a good time tonight.”
He paused to let the crowd give their approving cheer.
“This was a super important game for me tonight, because I've got a couple of special girls in attendance. Hey guys, can we roll that clip now?”
Everyone's heads turned to the jumbotron. The clip that played was the footage that Paige's Dad had recorded from the Nashville game, where Irie and Lance stared at each other through a pane of plexiglass for the first time. The crowd went aww.
“Cute, isn't she? That's Irie, my little daughter.”
Paige's eyes grew as wide as dinner plates—he'd just told everyone! She realized she was tightly squeezing Ella's hand.
“And little Irie's actually here tonight with her mother. It's their first home game in Boston, everyone—let's give them a round of applause!”
While the crowd clapped and cheered, Paige noticed that the arena workers were busily rolling out a red carpet to center ice.
“Their first home game of hopefully many more,” Lance added. “Hey, Paige, why don't you two come on out here?”
A duo of arena workers were ready and standing at Paige's side. They helped her to her feet, escorted her to the tunnel, opened the door to the rink and let her through. She walked safely on the red carpet, carrying Irie on her side, still in total disbelief.
The red carpet led to Lance. He waited, microphone by his side, his cheeks still flushed from exertion and his blond hair damp with sweat and messy from his helmet.
When Paige reached him, he took her hand into his and stared into her eyes. He covered the microphone—this part of his speech wasn't for the crowd.
“Paige, I wish I would've known, I wish I could've been around to help you out with Irie the past two years. I can't change the past, no—but I don't want to miss another day. You and Irie mean the world to me. And I won't let anyone or anything get between us. I mean that. I want you both in my life. I need you both in my life.”
At center ice, the hockey player dropped down on one knee, and the crowd went up in a roar. Lance pulled out a jewelry box and popped the lid open. A gold ring with an enormous diamond sparkled under the arena's bright lights and stole Paige's breath away. It was gorgeous.
He spoke into the microphone. “Paige, will you make me the happiest man alive?”
“Oh my God, Lance!” she screamed. “Yes!”
Gently, he slid the ring onto her finger. Bouncing on her toes with excitement, Paige pulled Lance to his skates and planted her lips to his. With Irie between them, they kissed in front of eighteen-thousand fans. The crowd went aww and yay and Lance's teammates tapped their sticks on the ice.
“That was sweet,” she told him with her arm around his neck. She never wanted to let go. “That was very sweet.”
“I'm glad, Paige. From here on out, it's me and you. We're gonna do this together, okay?”
Paige nodded, tears of happiness in her eyes.
Lance motioned for Irie. “Now I wanna take my daughter for a skate.”
He took Irie securely in his arms and skated a lap around the rink.
Paige watched the sweet moment—father and daughter slowly gliding around the ice—through a watery veil.
It's really going to work out.
Chapter 38
Lance
Lance was the last Brawler off the ice and into the dressing room. He told Paige he'd meet her in an hour.
The second he stepped into the room, the boys sprung into action. They'd been lying in wait, armed with bottles of champagne, which they shook and pointed at Lance, dousing the star player with sparkling wine while they yelled at him:
“Congrats!”
“Quite a scene out there, Coots!”
“Happy fuckin' engagement, you sappy fuck!”
Drenched with sweat and champagne, Lance laughed. “Thanks, guys.”
“Hey Lance, what would you have done if she said no?” Brooksy asked.
“Looked like a giant idiot,” Lance answered. “I was prepared for that, by the way.”
“So we're going out to celebrate, right?” Ilya asked.
Lance rolled his eyes. “Ha. No. I'm going home to be with my fiancée and daughter.”
“Of course,” Ilya grumbled. “After Radar settled down, I knew it was only a matter of time until Lance caught the bug …”
Mr. Tremblay entered the room. “Good game tonight, boys. Lance, got time for a quick word?”
Lance draped a towel over his bare shoulders. “Sure.”
They stepped outside, into the hall.
“Congrats, kid. You gave those fans a hell of a show.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean with your proposal, but during the game, t
oo. Great night for you. Love to see that kind of passion.”
“Thanks, Mr. Tremblay.”
“Mr. James loved it, too. I told him you weren't willing to work with Kip anymore. He was upset at first, but once he saw the proposal at center ice, he said to hell with it. He's willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, Lance. Can't promise you the captaincy. We'll just have to cross that road when we get there.”
“Whatever you guys think is best. But I won't let you down.”
Mr. Tremblay nodded. “I appreciate that. And Lance?”
“Yeah?”
“Don't let those girls of yours down, either.”
“I won't.”
Mr. Tremblay mussed Lance's champagne-and-sweat hair. “Enjoy yourself tonight, alright?”
“Yes, sir.”
***
Paige held her ring up to the window of the Range Rover, studying how her diamond caught the light of Boston at night. She couldn't stop staring at it.
“It's so pretty. And so huge.”
“Glad you like it.”
“Love it,” she corrected him. “Lance, I keep thinking about that moment. I can't believe you did that! I just can't stop smiling. You're amazing. Really.”
“Babe, you are.” He put his hand on her thigh and squeezed. “That's why I want to call you my wife.”
“Were you worried I'd say no?”
“Kinda, yeah,” he admitted with a croak.
“But why?”
“Because earlier today you were talking about taking things slow. And popping the question is pretty much the exact opposite of taking things slow, isn't it?”
“Well, technically, I suppose so.” Paige stifled a laugh. “But really—that was perfect, Lance. Everything about today was. From the work you did on Irie's room, to getting to know your sister, to seeing you play in your game, and the proposal in front of that crowd …”
“So you and Ella had a good time together?”
“Mm-hm,” she said, nodding emphatically. “And I heard some stories about you.”