Chapter Twenty-One
Kendall
I'm elbow-deep in a delivery box that the carrier just dropped off with Vivi’s name on it, something she ordered for the kitchen that arrived after Aleksi showed me the house yesterday, when I hear it: a thud from upstairs.
Then another. Followed by a muffled shout that sounds suspiciously like "Don't decapitate him!"
I freeze, spatula in hand, and tilt my head toward the ceiling.
Another bang. Then laughter—loud, male, and entirely too cheerful for someone who might be destroying my brand-new home.
"Aleksi?" I call, setting the spatula down and wiping my hands on my leggings.
These boys have a game tomorrow night and I can’t bring them in with an injury from house decorating when I’m the team doctor. It would look bad.
No answer.
Just more thumping.
I sigh and head for the stairs, one hand on the railing as I climb the stares. Niko shifts inside me—a lazy roll that feels like he's settling in for a nap. At least one of us is calm, I think.
The noise gets louder as I climb—grunting, scraping, someone muttering in what I'm pretty sure is Finnish profanity.
When I reach the top of the stairs, I stop dead.
The nursery door is open, and inside, I see Aleksi's back—broad shoulders straining against his T-shirt, arms braced against… something.
Something massive…and fluffy that’s taller than him.
"What are you doing?" I ask, stepping closer.
Aleksi glances over his shoulder, grinning like a kid caught stealing cookies. "Surprise!"
And then I see it.
A bear.
Not a cute little teddy bear.
A bear bear.
The kind that's taller than me when it's sitting down. Brown fur, soft and fluffy, with a red bow around its neck the size of a throw pillow. Two of Aleksi's teammates—Hunter and Trey—are pushing from behind while Aleksi pulls from the front, trying to maneuver it through the nursery doorway.
"Where did you even—" I start, then stop, laughing despite myself. "How did you get that thing up here?"
"Determination," Hunter grunts, shoving the bear's shoulder.
"And poor life choices," Trey adds, wiping sweat from his forehead.
Aleksi grins wider. "It's for Niko. He’s going to love it."
"Niko’s not even born yet," I say, still laughing. "He's the size of a cantaloupe. That bear could eat him."
"He'll grow into it," Aleksi says confidently, giving one last tug.
The bear lurches forward, finally clearing the doorway, and all three men stumble back, breathing hard.
Hunter claps Aleksi on the shoulder. "That thing's going to haunt your kid's dreams."
"He'll learn bravery early," Aleksi replies, completely unbothered.
I shake my head, biting back a smile. "Sometimes you do things that defy normal understanding… but this… this might top them all."
"You love me," he says, and my heart does that stupid flutter it always does when he says things like that—casual, easy, like it's a fact instead of a confession.
I don’t deny it.
Neither of us have said the words but it’s in the way that he takes care of me that matters more than any words could.
Behind me, I hear footsteps on the stairs. Vivi appears first, followed by Isla, Peyton, and Cammy, all of them carrying bags and boxes and wearing expressions that range from amused to exasperated.
"Of course he bought the giant bear," Vivi says, shaking her head. "I told him it was too big."
"And I told him it was perfect," Isla counters, grinning. "Look at it. It's majestic."
"It's terrifying," Cammy mutters, but she's smiling too.
The guys start filing out, clapping Aleksi on the back and making jokes about sleep training and diaper duty. The girls linger a little longer, teasing me about the bear, about Aleksi, about how I've "got myself a keeper."
And when the last person finally leaves and the front door clicks shut behind them, the house goes quiet.
Just me. Aleksi. And the bear.
"So?" Aleksi asks, turning to me with that expectant, hopeful look. "Do you like it?"
I glance at the bear, insanely oversized, but surprisingly it looks like a good spot for a nap, or maybe that’s the end of my second trimester fatigue. I could probably sleep on a packed subway like a damn baby right now.
"It's… definitely a surprise," I say, laughing again.
He grins and walks over to the bear, trying to fluff its ears like it's a real animal. "I thought Niko should have someone to keep him company. You know, when he's a little older."
"A little older?" I echo. "Aleksi, that bear is bigger than me. He's not going to be 'a little older' for years."
"Then it'll be there when he needs it," Aleksi says simply, like it's the most logical thing in the world.
I shake my head, but I can't stop smiling. "You're like a kid sometimes."
"A very handsome kid," he corrects, winking.
I roll my eyes, but my chest aches in the best way. He'll be the best dad, I think, and the thought doesn't scare me the way it used to.
Aleksi believes so easily—in joy, in family… in us. Maybe that's why it's so terrifying. Because I want to believe it too.
He shifts the bear into the corner, adjusting it so it's sitting upright.
“I have to get to the stadium for game day warmups. I put all the bedroom boxes on the dresser for you, and my mom’s growing boxes of care packages are in the nursery walk-in closet. Are you good for now?”
“Yep, I’ve got it from here. I have to head to the stadium in an hour anyway to meet with Theo before the game starts.”
He leans down and kisses me. The kind of kiss that now feels so familiar and yet new and exciting every time.
“Is it because of Theo… or is it because watching me practice before a game turns you on?”
As if I would let his ego get away with him if I told him the truth. Instead, I go for the banter he loves so much.
"Someone has to make sure you don't try to fight a goalpost again."
"I told you. Someone tripped me into it."
"Likely story."
He laughs, the sound echoing around the nursery, and I can't help but laugh with him.
I follow Aleksi downstairs, still smiling, my hand brushing the banister.
Later that evening, I'm standing near the tunnel at the arena. My checklist for game day is done, everyone who needs to go back over stretching and warmups has been properly chastised and now the rumble of the early entry fans are starting to echo in the halls.
I head out to watch the players warm up…
making sure my lecture to a few of them didn’t go unheard.
The ice gleams under the lights, the final soundchecks over the loud speaker with the tech team are done.
The light show between periods seems to be spot on and the sounds of the Hawkeyes on the ice is rhythmic.
Aleksi spots me and skates over, taking off his helmet and sliding it under his arm. His grin is so bright it warms me immediately.
He leans in close, voice low. "For luck?"
I glance around, heart pounding. "I’m not kissing you for luck. Season ticket holders are already here. That would be highly unprofessional."
"Guess I'll have to skate superstitiously bad without it."
I sigh, then kiss him quick and soft. "Go win something, sunshine."
"Already did," he says, skating off.
I watch him go, my hand drifting to my belly.
He has no idea how much I want this to last. Maybe his optimism really is contagious.
I head toward the stands, weaving through the crowd, my heart still racing from that stolen kiss.
And then I feel it.
A shift in the air. A prickle at the back of my neck. I glance over my shoulder and freeze.
Tarron.
He's standing near the concessions, arms crossed, watching me. And he doesn't look happy. Everything finally felt right, until now.
That's what scares me most.
The arena hums with pre-game energy—vendors hawking nachos, kids waving foam fingers, the sharp scent of fresh Zamboni ice. I keep walking, forcing my feet to move even though my pulse has kicked into overdrive.
Don't look back. Don't engage.
But I can feel his eyes on me, tracking my every step.
I make it to the medical office and slip inside, closing the door behind me with a soft click. My hand shakes as I set my bag down on the desk.
He's here. Why is he here? If he plans on making another scene, I don’t know what I’ll do to stop him.
My phone buzzes.
Tarron: We need to talk.
I stare at the screen, my stomach twisting.
I delete the message and shove the phone into my pocket, willing my hands to stop shaking.
We have an agreement. He keeps his mouth shut and I’ll consider coming to his upcoming home game.
But the knot in my chest doesn't loosen. Because Tarron doesn't just show up. Not without a reason. And whatever that reason is, I know it's not good.
The game starts, and I force myself to focus. To watch the ice. To track the players. To do my job. But every few minutes, my eyes drift to the stands.
And every time, I see him. Sitting three rows back. Watching.
He’s sandwiched between two other Sentinel players who seem to be having a good time, cheering on the team, getting into it with the fans around them. But Tarron doesn’t engage with the other fun-loving teammates. His eyes stay fixed on me.
Then by the end of the second period, before the players all head into the locker room, I see something that doesn’t mean good news. Tarron has not only one, but two beers in his hands.
Don’t do this Tarron. You were clean.
By the end of the third period, the Hawkeyes win the first pre-season game and everyone celebrates. It’s a good first win that gives the team the moral boost they needed after last year's devastating loss.
I slip out of the box, quickly letting Theo know that I need to talk to Penelope about Tarron, and head toward the tunnel, needing air, needing space, needing something other than the suffocating weight of his presence.
I make it through the tunnel, then the player’s locker room, but I need to see Penelope and I know she’s probably in the owner’s box with some of the other girls watching the game.
I need to at least make sure she’s aware that Tarron is in the stadium and might do something stupid.
But as soon as I push out of the locker room door and down the VIP and player only hallway, I turn the corner, and he's there.
Leaning against the wall. Arms crossed. Expression unreadable. A VIP badge around his neck.
It makes sense he would have gotten one. Teams like to cross promote. It brings press and it’s good for both franchises.
"Kendall," he says, voice low.
I stop. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing," he says, eyes dropping to my stomach. "But I think I already know the answer."
My jaw tightens. "I’m the team doctor, I have a reason to be here. And you’re drinking Tarron. What are you thinking?
"I’m thinking we need to talk."
"No," I say, voice firm. “You need to go home and sober up. How many beers have you had?”
He steps closer, and I force myself not to flinch. "I can handle a few beers, Kendall. What I can’t handle is that I’m right here. I’m finally back. And if you’d just give me another chance I could show you that you’re still my wife."
I shake my head. I can’t believe he’s doing this here… and now. "You’re only mad because I moved on. And you should too."
His mouth twists into something that might be a smile if it weren't so cold. "You really think he's going to stick around? When the board finds out? When the press finds out?"
"That's none of your business."
"It is when it affects my reputation," he says. "People still think that baby's mine, Kendall. And you're not doing anything to correct them."
We’ve been through this. He knows we were supposed to not comment, not make things worse. His big mouth is the only reason the gossip magazines are going crazy over it. But I can’t say that because right now, while he’s drunk, it won’t help either of us.
"Because it's easier that way," I say, in a low voice since people are starting to move around. "For everyone."
I smile at the security guard who walks past us on his way out to the stadium concession stands to make sure foot traffic flows and drunk fans don’t get crazy.
"For who?" he asks, voice rising. "For him? For you? Or for the board that's already got your file open?"
My blood runs cold. How does he know that the board has my file open? "What are you talking about?"
He shrugs, casual. "Just something I heard. Through the grapevine. You know how these things spread."
I stare at him, my chest tight. "You're lying."
"Am I?" He leans in, voice dropping. "Or am I the only one willing to tell you the truth?"
Finally, the other other players from the Sentinels find us, as if he ditched them on purpose. “There you are, man. We’ve been looking for you.” one of them says to Tarron.
I’m relieved to see them. If they get him out of here quickly then hopefully this whole situation blows over and no one's the wiser.
“Go home Tarron. Sober up and call your sponsor. This isn’t you.”
“Exactly,” he says, reaching out and wrapping his fingers around my arm. “You’re the only one who knows who I am. Just come home with me so we can talk this out.”
I can smell the beer on his breath. I’m not sure how many he drank but it was more than the two I saw in his hand based on the smell and the glassiness of his eyes.
“Hey… Tarron…” the other Sentinel player says, taking a step forward, his eyes on Tarron’s grip on me. “Let her go man. You can talk to her tomorrow after you sleep this off.”
Tarron’s grip tightens painfully.
“Ouch… Tarron, let go… you’re hurting me.”
Before I can respond, a voice cuts through the tension.
"Let her go Tarron."