by Toni Aleo
“What?”
“I still love you. Completely. And it’s going to work out. Wanna know how I know?”
“How?”
“Because I believe in you, in us, in this team. We have a lot of fight left in us. We’ve got this. You and the coaches will figure out a way to win, and when you do, it’s over for them.” Boon wipes my tears and asks, “Can I come back in and you not kick me out again?”
I nod. “I promise I won’t.”
“And I don’t want to not share a room with you.”
“I don’t either.”
“Kiss me.”
I nod before pressing my lips to his, and as we kiss in the middle of the hotel hallway, him in his boxers and me in a towel, I hope he’s right.
I hope we have the fight to win, because it’s burning deep inside me.
Jakob sits beside me, tapping his pen on the table as we watch our boys on the tablet. My head hurts from the stress, and I’m frustrated beyond belief. Boon is right; I need to relax. There is a couch in the rest area for the guys that I will be napping on. I’m exhausted, and my eyes hurt from staring at this damn screen. I don’t know how the hell this has happened, but it’s almost as if my boys have gone back to the way they were playing before I came. I don’t know how or even why, but we’re taking one hell of an ass-beating and it’s killing me.
I bite my lip as Jakob writes down a few things. The IceCats haven’t scored on us when they go on the power play—our kill team is doing their job—but the problem is we can’t draw a penalty. They know that’s how we can score, and they aren’t letting us have it. Don’t get me wrong—our boys are putting a beating on Merryweather. We had over forty-two shots on goal last game, but we can’t fucking catch a break. I know that’s how the puck plays sometimes, but for the love of Pete, can we get a goal?
Jakob exhales heavily as he points to the left of the cage where Boon is fighting for the puck. “That should have been a high stick.”
“I know,” I agree, shaking my head. “I don’t know if the owner of the IceCats put some money in the ref’s pockets or what, but they’re fucking us.”
“Exactly. We need the guys to be more blatant.”
“Yeah, but when we do that, they get called for embellishment.”
He lets out a hiss of breath. “So fucking frustrating. We shouldn’t be down like this. We are a good damn team.”
“I know.” I lean back against my chair, locking my hands and placing them on my head. “I don’t even know what to say at morning skate.”
“Get your fucking head out of your asses and win?”
I grin. “I don’t know if we can say that and not get in trouble.”
He nods. “I guess. Back in my day, my coach practically ripped my arm off and beat me with the bloody end.”
“Yeah, and most of you have extreme PTSD.”
He scoffs. “You’ve been listening to my daughter too much.”
“Well, she doesn’t stop talking about mental health, and I applaud her for it.” I’m trying to avoid the issue at hand. I know I am. I don’t want to go on the ice and yell at the guys. I wanted to be up in the series or at least have a game on them. No, we’re at the bottom. Everyone has already written us off. The IceCats have it. I press my hands to my stomach, trying to calm myself. I keep hearing Boon in my head, and I do need to remember I am carrying our child. I know I didn’t lose the first one because of stress, rather because it got caught in my fallopian tube, but still, I need to be careful.
“You okay?”
The concern in my uncle’s voice has me reaching out to squeeze his wrist. “I’m fine, promise. Just tired and stressed. Boon and I already got into it, so please don’t lecture me.”
“Trouble in paradise?”
I shake my head. “We’re fine now, but my hormones are kind of scary.”
He laughs. “They can be, but hell, I thought you two would stay in the honeymoon phase for a second. It’s only been two days of marriage?”
I grin. “Twelve.”
“Twelve days. Lord, and this was the first fight?”
I nod. “Yeah, I was a bitch.”
“It happens. You apologized?”
“I did.”
“Then you’re good. He loves you.”
My heart swells. “He does.” We both fall silent as I watch the screen, taking deep breaths in, when I notice something. “Have they been aggressively playing the forecheck the whole time?”
Jakob’s brows come in as he leans forward, his elbows on the desk. He squints as he watches what I am. Their offense is taking chance after chance, and we’re letting them. We’re not ready for their attack. We’re trying to play a strategic game, and they’re playing a balls-to-the-wall kind of style. “I thought they were being sharp, but they aren’t. They don’t even have plays. Look, Chandler isn’t even calling anything.”
Jakob nods his head. “You’re right. You’re fucking right.”
“We need to switch up the lines, press even harder. Basically, unteach them everything we’ve taught them since I was brought on.”
He pats my head like I’m twelve again and picks up the tablet. “Let’s go fix our play.”
As we head out to go talk to Coach, an overwhelming feeling of accomplishment comes over me. I found the fix; now it’s time to execute it.
And bring that Cup home.
For the second time.
Chapter Eleven
Boon
So apparently, Aiden is just great at everything.
Great scorer.
Great teammate.
Great golfer.
Great soon-to-be son-in-law.
Great, great, great, great. Not that I’m salty or anything. I watch as Shea and Aiden high-five after one hell of a shot by Aiden that got him birdie. I want to hate him, I want to push him into the pond where he made that great shot, but alas, I know we need him. He’s scored four out of the six goals we’ve made in the last three games. We have dug out from the trenches of our demise and tied our series with the IceCats. The coaching team completely changed everything up, and it was rough to adjust, but it was for the best. And now we’re even.
These wins haven’t come without consequences. Just as soon as Sinclair came back for his first game, he scored, but he also took a nasty hit into the boards. We got a man advantage for it, and their best defensemen was kicked out for the rest of the series, but we lost Sinclair once again. Rumor is, he’s done. But I know him, and he isn’t done. I’m also battling a sprained ankle, Aiden has two broken toes, Wes has a sprained elbow, and a lot of the team is beat-the-fuck-up. But we aren’t giving up. Proud is an understatement.
One more win.
That’s all.
One win and the Cup is ours.
I lean back in the golf cart as Aiden and Shea come back toward me. Shea is totaling everything up—not that I need to know the score to know I lost. I still suck, but it’s okay. I’m not here to win; I’m here to get my father-in-law to like me more than Aiden. “Well, Aiden won.”
Aiden does a fist pump that annoys Shea.
Ha. I’m well on my way to favorite son-in-law.
Shea slaps Aiden on the back fondly. “I’ll get you next time,” he jokes and then glances over at me. “Boon, maybe we can get you lessons so you can be competitive?”
Well, back to the bottom I go. I grin. “I’m here for the coffee and company.”
Aiden laughs. “He knows what he’s good at—running his mouth and drinking.”
That has all of us laughing. Shea gets in beside me as Aiden rides in the back seat of the cart. “Lunch?” Shea asks. “Or do you guys need to head back to pack?”
We leave tonight for Carolina for the Cup final. “I’m packed.”
Aiden nods. “I’m not, but it won’t take me long. Don’t need much but my lucky underwear.”
I laugh. “Posey is pissed I wouldn’t let her wash mine. They are rank.”
Aiden laughs. “Legit. Mine are too. Shel
li ignores it. I’m surprised Posey isn’t.”
“She is, but she makes me put them in a plastic bag. With her thyroid shit, she’s sensitive to smells.”
Shea nods. “Yeah, Elli was always good with my crazy superstitions until she could smell them. Then it was an issue.” I hear him on that.
“Posey is driving me mad,” I admit, and Shea looks over at me as he turns up the cart path toward the country club. “She won’t relax. She’s on edge twenty-four seven. It’s giving me an ulcer.”
Aiden leans between us on his elbows. “Shelli is the same. She is obsessed with tapes.”
I point to him. “All fucking night long! I’m like, you need sleep, and she tells me to stuff it.”
Shea laughs as Aiden yells out, “Exactly! Like what the fuck, babe? I’m trying to make sure you’re good.”
“Right? And I’m in the wrong.”
“For real. As if that makes any sense. I’m the one on the ice, and she’s stressing more than I am!”
“Dude, you’re speaking to my soul right now.”
I’m lucky in the brother-in-law department. Aiden has always been my brother, but now that we're connected by the crazy of the Adler family, it makes it hard to be salty that he’s the favorite. I’ll always be his brother; we got each other. “You know what we should do? Trade. Stick them together, and then we can sleep.”
I laugh. “We know for next time.”
“Legit,” Aiden agrees as we bump knuckles, and Shea scoffs.
We both glance over at him.
“Oh, you two don’t even know yet.”
“That doesn’t sound supportive, Shea.”
He cracks up. “Let me tell you, these Fisher women—and yes, I use Elli’s maiden name because this is all that family’s crazy—are fierce, obsessive, and insanely competitive.”
He isn’t wrong, Shelli stabbed me with a fork when we played Forks a couple weeks ago. Posey didn’t talk to Ally for a week because she murdered her in Risk.
“I love my wife, I love my girls, but I will not play Monopoly with them. Not only does Elli steal from the bank, but Posey and Shelli will cry if you make them pay rent.”
I snort as Aiden nods. “I won’t play with Shelli either. Or Quinn, for that matter. He’s too damn smart and kills me at everything.”
Shea nods. “I’ll only play with Owen and Evan. They are level-headed and competitive but not to the point of bodily harm.”
“I’m surprised you’re not used to it with Emery and Stella,” I say to Aiden as I laugh, and he shakes his head.
“Dude, Shelli makes those girls look like puppies when it comes to games.”
We all laugh at that because, really, I’m more terrified of those girls than Shelli and Posey put together. The Brooks girls are sneaky and will stab you in the back. Shelli and Posey will stab you in the front and laugh in your face as they claim victory. “But hey, at least she’s not driving you crazy with wedding crap.”
Aiden chuckles. “No, I get it all. She doesn’t sleep, which makes her pissy when it’s time to make decisions. I’ve legit started saying yes to everything. I don’t even care.”
Shea gives him a dirty look. “Yeah, thanks for that. Now I have to pay an extra grand for everyone to have a skewer of shrimp.”
Aiden laughs bashfully as I nod. “I love shrimp.” Shea’s dirty look now pins me, and I hold up my hands. “Or I don’t.”
“Don’t worry, Shea. It’s almost here.”
“Let’s hope I don’t go broke before it comes.”
Aiden pats his back. “I pray for you daily.”
“Good, I need it,” Shea jokes as he parks the cart.
While we gather our things, I ask, “What did you do about Elli when she got riled up about things? I worry so much about Posey, with the baby and all.”
He shrugs. “A little advice. Just love them. They are both so headstrong, and they know what they want. As crazy as it drives you, there is no fixing it. It’s the way they are wired. Why have both of you stressing, fighting, and all that, when you can just let her be, and you do you?”
He’s right. If I hadn’t tried to make Posey relax, we wouldn’t have gotten in that fight. But then, we wouldn’t have had make-up sex either. So, really, I should probably pick my battles. That’s a good plan going forward.
“Or here is an idea,” he adds. “You guys just win, and everyone will be good.”
I snort. “No pressure, huh?”
Shea grins at me. “All the pressure, buddy.”
Aiden laughs. “We got this.”
“We do,” I agree on an exhale. “As long as our wives don’t kill us before we even get to the rink.”
Once more, I laugh with my brother, who is about to be my brother-in-law, and my father-in-law as we get out to head in to lunch.
Shea clutches my shoulder, squeezing it when I fall into step with him. “Don’t worry so much about Posey. She’s stronger than she looks.”
“You aren’t lying.”
He squeezes my arms once more, such compassion in his eyes, and this warm feeling runs through me. I grew up without a stable father figure, and for the longest time, I never thought that would happen for me. That’s not the case anymore. Not only will my child have the best grandfather in the world, but I now have a father I can look up to. Who can give me advice on how to be a good husband and father. The Cup final is up in the air, and as much as I want to win, I know I already have.
I won in the wife department because she came with a family that is now mine.
Now, I just need to bring the Cup home.
Oh my God, my fucking ankle.
Ryan holds my ankle in place as he sprays it with cold spray to freeze it before wrapping it so damn tight, I can’t feel it—or my foot, for that matter. From where I sit, I can hear Coach pushing and demanding our best. We’re almost there. This final is no fucking joke. We are tied at one apiece. It’s the second overtime, and I don’t think there is a player on that ice who isn’t banged up or exhausted. It’s basically been fucking war.
I get off the table, walking gingerly to my spot as Coach looks back at Posey. It’s hard not to notice how beautiful she is. She has her hair up in a sleek ponytail and her makeup done to the nines, and I can’t help but want those glossy purple lips on mine. She looks like a queen in her tight purple dress that she’s paired with her knee-high, high-heeled boots. She started wearing them at game four and hasn’t quit since. I know they hurt her feet, especially since her belly is growing. It’s all I see as she stands there.
My baby carrying my baby.
“This is it,” she says, coming forward since Jakob has decided not to say anything. I’ve noticed he lets her take the lead a lot of the time. “This is our moment. Everyone said we couldn’t come back, and look at us. We are here, and we will win. We have got to take away Merryweather’s eyes! Rush that fucking net and block him. Get a tip! Defensemen, I need shots, and hard ones. Get scrappy. Fight for that goal because the Cup is ours to lose.” She looks around the room, hitting everyone’s eyes. When her eyes fall to mine, they’re full of fire. Of belief in us. “I can stand here and tell you to do it for the coaching staff, for the organization, the fan base, the city—shit, anything. But fuck that. Do it for you. Do it for the glory for you and your team. It’s time to go to war, boys. Who’s ready to bring home the prize?”
Did she practice that? I’m pretty sure I heard her in the bathroom this morning saying that, but before I can even really think or tease her on it, the guys are in it, ready to win it. We cheer loudly, smacking one another, pumping the room up. When we line up to go out there, we’re all still pumping one another up. When Sinclair comes over to us on his crutches, my stomach clenches.
“Let’s go, boys! We can do this!”
As much as I want to win for Posey, I want to win for him. The ice is in sight, and I stare at it until it’s time for us to get out. Once my skates hit the ice, I feel it. I feel that second wind of adrenaline. Gone is th
e exhaustion; I can sleep when I’m dead. Now, I have to do my part to bring the Cup home to Nashville. Home to my captain. Home to the love of my life.
Let’s go.
Problem is, the IceCats have found their second wind too. Posey wasn’t kidding; this is a fucking battle. We fight for the puck, and yes, we’re all a little slower than we usually play, but still, our hearts are in it and no one will give up. Every time the ref blows the whistle, I sigh in relief. A second to breathe. I skate beside Aiden and Wes, my brothers looking just as drained and out of breath as me. Since Aiden is doing awesome Aiden things, our line is playing big minutes. We are the only line that didn’t change. Our defensemen pair is different, but that’s it. We’re still strong. We’re still who everyone wants to be. The line that makes the difference. Pretty sure I added to that difference when I took a puck to my chest after I dropped to block a shot from my cousin-in-law. Chandler Moon is my enemy today—though, he is a really great guy.
My chest stings as I take in a deep breath, and Wes glances at me. “You don’t think you broke a rib, do you?”
“Fuck if I know. Let’s win this shit, and we can worry about that later.”
“Agreed,” Aiden says, smacking my shin, and then we notice that the IceCats have called a time-out. “Thank God,” he laughs as we head to the bench. Before we can even get there, Posey is hanging over the bench, shaking her finger at us.
My eyes widen as she points to us. “I need something different. I need someone to do something to win this fucking game! We have three minutes. Make it happen!”
I glance at Aiden as he looks at Wes and me. “Your wife is mean.”
“So mean,” Wes agrees as she leans toward us with her whiteboard.
“They know Brooks is hot. They are on you. You can’t be our winner—you’re dead to us,” she yells, slamming her finger to the whiteboard where she has drawn a bunch of lines and shit. “Hoenes, they are anticipating your shot. They are throwing bodies like it’s nothing. Wes, it’s time for you to do something.”
He looks between all of us, and I know he wants to say something, but he refrains.