28. Chapter Twenty-Eight #3
He practically runs. Quinn stays grounded right where she is, shaking her head. I definitely hear her mutter something that sounds like "disaster," but she doesn't elaborate further.
"That was weird," Tyler says.
"That was Liam," Brett says. "Everything he does is weird."
Tyler doesn't even hesitate. "For sure."
The moment breaks. Around us, people drift back to the dogs. The festival keeps going.
But now everyone knows. The guys on the team. Paige and Lindy in PR. Quinn on the medical team. My parents. Basically everyone in Sarah's professional circle. It's out there.
And surprisingly, I don't hate that fact at all.
I walk back to the main part of the booth, where Sarah's standing, flipping through applications. Six dogs have already found new homes. Just a few more to go to hit her goal. She looks up at me, smooths the top of her hair, adjusts her ponytail. "Well. I didn’t have a bingo card for that."
"Today’s certainly off to a heck of a start." I don't know what to say other than to agree.
"Your mom's got a gift. I guess I really can't say anything after my 'no wine for seven months' comment at Thanksgiving lunch, though."
"Nope, you're two peas in a pod. She made Ranger a custom jersey. This is just how she operates." I pull her close. "You okay?"
"Yeah." She laughs, and it sounds a little shaky but there’s no doubt it’s genuine. "Actually, you know what? Yeah. I'm okay."
"Good." I kiss the top of her head. "Because we're apparently going to a spontaneous baby shower in a few hours."
"With nachos."
"The best nachos in Texas, according to Liam."
"Well then." Sarah leans into me. "Who are we to argue with Crash?"
The rest of the event passes in a blur of congratulations and adoption paperwork and teammates giving me shit between hugs.
Tyler successfully convinces Mallory to take approximately sixty photos of him and Hercules.
I can't say for sure, but I think he filled out an application anyway, despite Aiden's legitimate concerns about food and water.
Josh finalizes Moose's adoption while Landrie tells everyone Moose is her horse. Graham gets led around by a determined three-year-old for an hour and doesn't complain once.
And then my parents meet Biscuit.
My dad crouches down in front of him. The elderly golden retriever approaches cautiously, sniffs his hand, then licks it.
Biscuit's an older golden retriever that's been at the rescue for months.
Sarah periodically even brings him to my place when it seems like his joints are aching.
He and Ranger are friends. Biscuit's a sweet boy, but he's had trouble finding a home because of anxiety issues and a strict medication schedule.
Mom's already petting the furry old man. "Mike. Look at him."
Dad gives Biscuit a scratch behind his floppy ears. "I'm looking."
"We should—"
He gives her a nod. "Yeah. We should."
A few minutes later, my parents are filling out paperwork for a furry retiree who they need just as much as he needs them.
"It’s the perfect match," Sarah says, watching them with a smile.
She's said over and over she wished she could adopt Biscuit herself, but her apartment doesn't allow pets. She's told me a hundred times that even though she wants him to find a forever home, it will break her heart when he leaves and she won't see him anymore.
"Your baby’s going to have an Uncle Biscuit!" Diane confirms, looks delighted. "Biscuit's going home. To Dallas."
After a round of hugs, as Mom and Dad start to make their way to the car, Lindy rounds everyone up for a family photo.
"Sunshine, grab Sarah and Ranger. Let's get y'all with your parents and Biscuit," she shouts.
Sarah runs over and I pull her against me, my arms around her waist, hands settling over her stomach. Right where they belong.
Ranger and Biscuit sniff each other. "Boys, sit down," Sarah calls, holding her palm out flat and looking at each dog. They immediately obey, because of course they do.
"Everyone smile! First family photo," Lindy waves her arm over her head to catch our attention. I hear the shutter click on the camera.
The words hit me hard. This is my family. Sarah and our baby. My parents. The dogs. Everyone here.
The only thing missing is Cameron. But he'd have loved this. Would've loved Sarah. Would've been the best uncle — better, even, than Uncle Biscuit.
I hope I'm making you proud, bro.
In hockey, when your shift ends, you trust your teammate to take over. To keep defending. To protect the lead you built together. To keep building on it.
Cameron's shift ended too soon. But the game doesn't stop. The people we love still need defending. The life we dreamed about still needs living.
So, I'm taking his shift. Picking up where he left off. Living the plans he drew up — the family, the future, all of it.
That's on me now. All of it. Sarah and the baby. My parents finding joy again. This team, this family we've built. Even Biscuit, who's going to spend his golden years spoiled rotten in Highland Park.
These are my people. My responsibility. My life to live.
And I'm going to keep my promise and live the hell out of it.
Semper Protegam.
Always. But now there’s more. So much more.
Semper Vivam.