Chapter Twenty #2
Vivi: TOO LATE. Already planned.
Trey: Also, heads up everyone, the nursery could cause “baby crazy” symptoms. Enter at your own risk. Vivi cried.
Vivi: I DID NOT.
Trey: You absolutely did.
Me: She's not the only one.
Kendall glances at me, brow raised. "You cried?"
"A little," I admit, shrugging. "Don't tell anyone."
"Your secret's safe with me."
I lean over and kiss her temple, breathing in the scent of her. "It’s all coming together. See? I told you it would. There’s nothing to worry about."
She swallows hard, nodding. "I'm starting to believe that."
Good. Because I'm not letting the medical board or the league or anyone else take this away from her.
I snap a photo before I can overthink it.
Kendall barefoot at the kitchen island, fork in hand, belly gently rounded, the sunlight from the backyard shining through. She's mid-laugh at something I just said, eyes crinkled, completely unaware I'm capturing the moment.
It's perfect.
I send it to my mom with a simple caption: First morning in the new house.
The reply is instant.
Mom: Oh, Aleksi. She's glowing. You're both glowing. Send me the address. I'm mailing another care package immediately.
I grin, typing back the address, and her next message comes through with a string of heart emojis and a promise to include "something special for the baby's room."
Kendall notices me smiling at my phone. "What?"
"My mom," I say, turning the screen toward her. "She's already planning the next care package."
Kendall's eyes soften as she reads the messages. "Your mom is the sweetest person I've never known. I hope I can meet her soon."
"She's going to love you in person," I say. "Fair warning—she'll probably cry. And feed you. A lot. She’s already talking about some kind of breastfeeding cookie that helps your production. Something about oatmeal stimulation…" I trail off because it’s all lost on me.
"I can handle that." she smiles.
"Good," I say, pocketing my phone. "Because she's already planning a trip once the baby's here."
I watch her face shift… surprise, but in a good way. Not like surprising her with a house she didn’t ask for. "She is?"
"Of course she is," I say gently. "You're family now."
The words hang between us. They might be heavy to say outloud but that doesn’t make them any less true.
She blinks fast, looking down at her plate. "I'm not used to that."
"I know," I say, reaching across to lace my fingers with hers. "But you will be."
Later, after we've finished breakfast and Kendall's curled up on the couch with her phone, scrolling through furniture ideas with Vivi while on speaker phone, I grab my sneakers from by the door.
"I've got practice in an hour," I say, lacing up. "But before I go—"
I slide a key across the counter toward her.
She looks at it, then at me. "What's this?"
"Your key," I say. "I'll take the realtor lock off later. I left the Pending sign up so you didn't feel any pressure to say yes to the house."
Her eyes go wide. "That’s why it was still up. You did that for me?"
"Of course I did."
She crosses around the island, stopping in front of me, and for a second she just looks at me—like she's trying to memorize something.
Then she kisses me. Soft and full of gratitude.
"Thank you," she whispers against my lips. "For everything."
I cup her cheek, thumb brushing over her skin. "Don't thank me. Just move in before the third trimester. Mom says that's nesting season. She's already planning to ship curtains."
Kendall laughs, pulling back slightly. "Of course she is."
"Use the black card for whatever you want," I say. "Furniture, groceries, curtains, whatever. Make this place yours."
She hesitates. "Aleksi, I can't just—"
"Yes, you can," I say firmly. "You and the baby deserve it."
She swallows, nodding slowly. "Okay."
I kiss her forehead, then drop to my knees and press a soft kiss to her belly. "Be good for your mom, little guy. I'll be back later."
When I stand, her eyes are bright, and I have to force myself to step back before I stay here all day.
Every bruise, every heart surgery, every rejection, every lonely hotel room finally led here. And I wouldn't change a single thing.
I'm whistling when I pull into the practice facility parking lot.
The morning's still keeping me light on my feet.
The pancakes, Kendall's laugh, my sister finally texting back that I had beginner's luck on the pancakes, the way Kendall looked in my shirt when I left…
the taste of her kiss still on my lips. Life feels impossibly good.
Then I see Penelope as I walk through the doors of the stadium.
"Heard about the house," she says, smiling. "Congratulations. Kendall deserves to be taken care of."
I grin, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "Yeah. It feels good to have a place for her. For the baby."
Her smile flickers. "Just… be careful, Aleksi."
My grin fades. "You think the NHL would really sanction the team?"
She hesitates, and lets out a sigh. "Kendall and I have been discussing it some, and I’ve talked to some other GM’s. It's possible. I don't know if it would come down to that. We've never been in this position before. I asked my father, who was a GM longer than me, what he thinks."
My chest tightens. "What did he say?"
"He's looking into it," she says carefully. "I haven't talked to Everett Kauffman about anything. I'm hoping there's never anything to tell."
Everett Kauffman, the new billionaire owner of the team.
I swallow hard. "We thought we weren't going to make it out of that motel room. We hadn't exactly considered what the next day would bring, seeing as how we weren’t sure we’d make it out alive."
Her expression softens. "I know. And I'll do everything I can to help. I'm just not sure what I'll be able to do if this goes sideways and the medical board finds out."
She pats my arm, gentle but serious. "You're a good man. Kendall deserves this. Just do whatever you can to make sure I don't have to defend you and this team to the league."
As she walks away, the high from this morning dims. The league wouldn't tear apart a family… would they?
I lace up in the locker room, the familiar ritual grounding me. Skates tight. Jersey on. Helmet under my arm.
When I step onto the ice, everything else falls away.
We have our first home game of the pre-season tomorrow night and the only thing I can control right now is how I play.
The cold bites at my lungs in the best way. My blades sing across the surface, smooth and sure, and for the next hour, I let muscle memory drown out the worry.
I nail slapshot after slapshot, the puck cracking off the crossbar. Coach Haynes nods approvingly when I skate past, and I feel it—this is my year.
The guys are sharp today, everyone is pushing hard as pre-season draws closer. The energy is electric, the kind that makes you believe anything's possible.
By the time Coach's whistle blows, I'm sweating, grinning, heart hammering with optimism.
This is where I belong. On this ice. With this team. Building this life.
And in a few months, Kendall will be on maternity leave and she and Niko will be in my seats watching me.
Nothing else matters.