Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
JACKO
It’s game day. The first one where I know, without a doubt, she’ll be there.
It’s stupid how much it does to me, knowing Maya and Lila will be in the stands tonight.
Not just somewhere in the building, but right there by the glass, wearing Raptors merch and probably clutching snacks bigger than their heads.
Well, Lila will be clutching snacks. Maya will be pretending she didn’t eat three mini donuts before puck drop while claiming she “just had one.”
I glance at my phone as I lace up my skates. No texts. No emergencies. No alarm malfunctions. Just peace.
It’s been two weeks since that night Daz came over to fix the system.
Two weeks of me sleeping on Maya’s sofa with a crick in my neck and her floral throw blanket tangled around my legs.
Two weeks of morning tea and shared smiles and the soft sound of Lila’s feet pattering across the floor before she demands breakfast and cartoon time.
I’d sleep on that sofa for the rest of my life if she asked me to.
I pull my jersey over my pads just as Ollie struts in like he owns the place, flipping his stick like it owes him money.
“You ready, mate?” he grins. “Heard your girls are in the stands tonight. Big moment.”
“You say that like I’m meeting her parents,” I mutter, but my smile gives me away.
Murphy slaps me on the back as he passes. “Worse. Hockey family’s got higher standards. You screw it up, we keep her and Lila and boot you to the minors.”
“Fair enough,” I say. Because honestly? That tracks.
The boys fall into their usual pre-game rhythm with music blaring, tape flying, chirps and banter pinging across the room like pucks. But there’s a low thrum in my chest that wasn’t there before. Anticipation. Something bigger than adrenaline.
I glance at my phone one last time.
Still no text.
But then I don’t need one. I already know she’s coming.
By the time warmups are over and we skate back into the tunnel, I hear it. Lila.
She’s in the front row, right next to our bench, holding a homemade sign in glittery marker that says GO BEAR! with a drawing that may or may not be me but definitely has muscles bigger than reality.
She sees me and starts waving so hard I think her tiny arms might detach. Maya, beside her, is laughing. Proper, full-body, carefree laughing, the kind she used to keep under lock and key.
And sitting next to them is Sophie. Very pregnant Sophie. Like, “could sneeze and start labour” pregnant.
She’s sipping some kind of herbal tea and gently fielding Lila’s endless questions while Maya mouths sorry and tries to corral the chaos. But Sophie just waves her off like this is the most fun she’s had in weeks.
Between periods, I grab a second to catch my breath and scan the glass. Lila presses her face to it like she’s trying to tunnel through. Maya gives me a little wave, her eyes soft.
I can see it.
She’s relaxed. More than I’ve ever seen her. The tension in her shoulders finally released. As though she doesn’t feel like she has to hold her breath anymore.
After the win, because obviously we win, we’re the bloody Raptors, the boys start filing off the ice, sweaty and smug.
I hang back. Just for a second and skate over to the glass.
Lila presses both hands to it, squealing. “Bear! You skated so fast!”
“I did it just for you, Jellybean,” I say, planting my glove against hers.
She beams. Maya leans in, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. “Proud of you.”
My chest expands like someone cranked the air into it. I skate backwards, grinning like an idiot.
Best. Game. Ever.
After the showers, I’m barely dressed when Ollie appears behind me like a gossip gremlin.
“So?”
“So what?”
“Did she like the game? Did Lila boo the refs? Did Sophie go into labour and make Maya catch the baby in her foam finger?”
I throw a towel at him. “They had a great time. Lila nearly headbutted the glass when I scored.”
Murphy appears then, looking smug. “Sophie says Maya fits right in. Said she actually laughed at one of Ollie’s jokes, which might be a first.”
“She laughed because she was sleep-deprived,” Ollie mutters. “Delirium’s a known symptom.”
I pull my hoodie over my head and grab my gear. “They’re coming down to meet us.”
Murphy raises a brow. “You bringing them into the sanctum?”
“She’s already in it,” I say simply. “They both are.”
And they are. Even if I’m still sleeping on her sofa. Even if Lila doesn’t quite understand why I make Maya smile the way I do. Even if we’re still figuring it all out. They’re in.
Maya and Lila are waiting near the tunnel, Lila wearing my jersey that I got for her, which practically reaches her ankles, and clutching a foam paw with the Raptors logo.
“You were amazing!” Lila declares. “You didn’t even fall down or anything!”
“High praise,” I say, bending down to her level. “That sign you made? Pretty sure it gave me super speed.”
She preens. Maya just rolls her eyes fondly. “I think she thought she was playing. Every time you had the puck, she yelled, ‘That’s my Bear!’ and nearly deafened Sophie.”
“Worth it,” Sophie calls from a bench nearby. “I’ve got nothing but time and swollen ankles.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Maya asks her. “You’re due in, what, five minutes?”
“Ten days,” Sophie groans. “Which feels like ten years. But seriously, thank you for tonight. It was nice. Normal. Loud, chaotic, wonderful.”
Maya blushes.
Lila tugs on my hand. “Can we have pizza now? You promised if you won we get pizza.”
“I did promise, didn’t I?” I look to Maya. “Still good for it?”
She nods. “If I say no, she might mutiny.”
We walk out together, Lila skipping between us, holding both our hands. Maya leans her head briefly on my shoulder.
“Your hockey family is terrifying,” she murmurs. “But weirdly lovely.”
“They’re yours now too.”
She exhales, and I feel it, not just her breath, but the weight leaving her. The comfort settling in. The choice she’s made to stop bracing for everything to fall apart.
She chose me.
And I’ll keep choosing her. Sofa neck cricks and all.