Chapter 29 My Abel Emmett #2
I’m gonna ruin that fucking pussy tonight. Why do you think I’m one goal shy of a hat trick? I’m cashing in.
“Emmett! Emmett!” Abel jumps up and down, smacking the glass as Lennon snaps a picture of him, my favorite fan, my name on his back, and my hat on his head. “That’s my Emmett! I love you, Emmett!”
And that’s about all the encouragement I need. Carter steals the puck the second it’s dropped, flinging it back to Jaxon, who passes it across the ice to Garrett. He flings the puck off the boards, dodging Dallas’s left-winger, and when he scoops it up on the other side, he sends it back to Carter.
I rush past a defenseman, hovering at the side of the net, a step behind it as Carter’s eyes ping around the offensive zone, logging each player’s location.
He winds up, stick all the way back before he rips it forward, and the goalie dives to his left in anticipation, his defenseman moving too.
But Carter doesn’t follow through. He stops his stick right before it can make contact with the puck and changes direction, lobbing it over to where I’m waiting by the side of the net and all that empty space where the goalie was, just a moment ago.
“Fuck!” the goalie shouts, diving back over.
But the puck’s already on the blade of my stick, and a split second later, it’s in the net, my arms in the air, moments before my body hits the ice, my teammates piling on top of me as the arena explodes with screams.
Abel’s too busy jumping in a group hug with Lily, Ireland, and Connor to see when I skate by, so Cara gets my undivided attention when I hold up three fingers and mouth, You owe me.
“EVERYONE’S GOT BABYSITTERS SORTED?” CARTER asks forty minutes later as we’re hurrying back into our suits.
I pull my boxer briefs up and step into my pants, my hair still wet from the shower as I do up my belt. “Emily’s already at our place, waiting for us to get home. Abel’s excited to show her the stars from his window.”
“Archie and Marco are watching the kids. It’s Rosie’s first time away from Iris, so she’s a bit nervous.”
“Ollie too.” Carter shoves his phone in his back pocket and straightens his tie.
“My mom and Axel are staying the night. Ollie said she’s either gonna cry or get drunk.
I said, knowing her, it’ll be both.” He frowns.
“She didn’t like that very much.” He grins, a far-off look in his eye.
“It ended with me fucking her in the shower.”
“Nobody’s watching Mitts,” Jaxon says as we head for the hallway. “In case anyone was wondering. Poor guy’s just fending for himself all evening and night, wondering where Mommy and Daddy are, and if anyone loves him at all.”
“Your cat has nearly a hundred thousand followers on Instagram,” I remind him. “He’s not wondering if anyone loves him.”
“Oh my fuck, yes, Lennon,” Garrett squeals. “I’ve been waiting for this one! Do me, do me!”
Lennon snickers from where she’s waiting outside the dressing room, her phone recording from a tripod while she snaps pictures with her camera.
She asks a question before and after every game, using the usually ridiculous video footage for social media content.
It’s incredible how many times we’ve gone viral—Garrett for fumbling his way through almost every video, Jaxon for his cat daddy content, and Carter, well, for him it’s a fifty-fifty split.
Sometimes it’s the ridiculously high levels of sexual innuendo he sprinkles into the answers for Olivia to see, and other times it’s his dedication to being a dad.
Adam and I just keep going viral because Lennon loves making montages of us smiling at the camera.
Anyway, she always has her question written on a little whiteboard she props up next to her phone, that way we can prepare an answer before we get there. Today, though, there’s no real way to prepare for this question. It just is what it is.
“Mr. Andersen, Vancouver’s favorite awkward boy, what’s on your lock screen?”
Garrett’s already snickering, phone ready in his hand. “Carter. Carter, are you watching?” He flashes his phone screen: a photo of Jennie’s reflection in the mirror of her dance studio.
“Wow, a photo of my beautiful sister,” Carter mutters, rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, it’s my-my”—he squeezes his eyes shut, and very real tears drip out of them as he shakes with laughter—“my pregame meal!”
“You motherfucker!” Carter hollers, taking off down the hall after a squealing Garrett.
“Sisterfucker,” Lennon corrects under her breath, high-fiving Jaxon. “Riley, what’s on your lockscreen?”
Jaxon grins, showing off a photo of Lennon and Mittens. “My gorgeous wife and our shining star.”
“Correct answer. You’re getting laid tonight. Lockwood, I think we already know the answer, but give it to us anyway.”
Adam proudly shows off a photo of Lily, Connor, and Iris, as well as their dogs, Bear and Piglet, and their cat, Dinosaur. “My kids.”
“Stunning. And Mr. Brodie, what have you got for us?”
“You’re lucky you didn’t ask this a week ago,” I murmur as I pull my phone out.
Lennon squints at me. “Why…? Actually, you know what? Don’t answer that. I know you. I know your wife. I know it’s not PG.”
I grin, looking at the photo of Cara, Abel, and me on a boat, seals lounging on an oversized rock in the water behind us.
It’s from last Saturday, after we’d asked Abel what he wanted to do that weekend.
He said he wanted to “see some fishies.” Naturally, we got up a bit early, hit up our favorite café for breakfast and cookies, and took him whale watching.
He loved the whales, but it was the seals he really fell head over heels for.
He said it was the best day of his life, but it felt like it was the best of mine and Cara’s too.
I think that’s why I made it my lockscreen as soon as we tucked him into bed that night, because smiles as brilliant as these ones deserve to be seen.
“My family” is the answer I finally give, right as they step into view with the rest of them, Abel’s hand tucked into Cara’s, baby Hunter strapped to her chest.
Abel’s face shines like the sun when he spots me, dashing down the hall, hat spun backward, stuffed dinosaur tucked under his arm. “Emmett!”
I open my arms, letting us collide with an oomph before I scoop him up, toss him into the air, and catch him against my chest, my favorite giggle buried in my neck. “Did you have fun at your first hockey game?”
He lays one hand on my cheek, resting his forehead against mine, a tender smile that won’t quit as he whispers, “I’m so lucky you’re my Emmett.”
My eyes fall shut at the feeling that sweeps through me, a slow-moving river quietly demanding more, carving a new path through unfamiliar terrain, a gentle voice that promises in no uncertain terms that I’ll never be the same again, not after knowing a love like this. “And I’m so lucky you’re my Abel.”