Epilogue
Tyler glances up at the scoreboard. Tie game.
Thirty seconds left. A championship on the line—but more than that, a promise.
He blinks away the sweat dripping from his brow, remembering what Winnie said as she stood in front of him on her tiptoes, holding his suit jacket in a death grip, trying with all her might to get him to eye level so she could stare directly into his soul.
You promise me, Tyler Briggs, that I will not have this baby alone.
My doctor said I was dilated three centimeters this morning, and I can go into labor at any moment.
You win this game tonight. You win this game, because if you leave me tomorrow to fly to fucking Montreal for game six and miss the birth of our son, I will take that cup and shove it so far up your ass, you’ll be the one in the hospital bed.
Tyler grits his teeth.
Angry Winnie is hot as hell. But angry pregnant Winnie? Yeah, she’s downright terrifying.
I have to end this game. Now.
Like an answer to a prayer, they suddenly get possession.
His teammate is thrown into the boards almost immediately, but not before getting a pass off to their center.
Tyler takes off, digging his blades into the ice as he launches into an all-out sprint.
The defense is hot on his tail but his left wing sets a pick.
For a split second, he’s wide open in front of the net.
Luckily, in hockey, a split second is all it takes.
The puck careens toward him. There’s no time to set up a shot.
No time to even look. But he doesn’t need it anyway.
He pulls his arms back, instinctively aware of exactly how he needs to contort his body because he’s done it a thousand—no, a million—times before.
His stick connects. The puck flies. The goalie dives.
For a moment, Tyler doesn’t know what happened.
Did he catch it?
Did it slip through?
Did they win?
Is he a dead man?
Then—brAAAAAAM!!!
The foghorn sounds. The light blinks red.
And twenty thousand people erupt. Tyler throws off his helmet as his teammates rush him.
Euphoria crashes over him like a tidal wave.
No matter how many trophies line his shelves, this feeling never gets old.
The high of the victory. The thrill of the crowd.
The camaraderie. The brotherhood. In this moment, the people who discarded him don’t matter.
The ones who mocked him, who degraded him, who turned their backs.
On the ice, he’s a somebody. He’s a king.
And he deserves every one of these cheers.
But in an entire arena full of strangers, there’s only one person who truly matters—soon to be two.
Tyler whips his gaze to the family box.
He told her to stay home and rest, but Winnie told him there was no way in hell she was missing this game. So she should be there, front row, sporting her brand-new, specially made maternity jersey with their shared last name printed on the back.
But she’s not.
Tyler frowns. A horrible sense of foreboding cuts through his elation as he keeps searching the box, gaze eventually colliding with a set of blue eyes that perfectly match his own.
His mom’s almost three years sober, and for the first time in his life, he actually thinks it might stick.
Six months ago, he and Winnie took her out to dinner and made it very clear that if she wants to spend time with her grandson, she has to stay clean.
And if she can’t, then that’s it. They’ll cut her out of the baby’s life.
He won’t put his child through the same hell he’s lived.
One way or another, he’s breaking the cycle.
And god, he wants so badly to be able to do that while keeping her in all their lives, because when she was good, she was so fucking great, and that’s the grandmother his child deserves—but that decision is entirely up to her.
He’s not fully convinced the ultimatum will be motivation enough when the draw of her own son never was, but Winnie is, as always, optimistic.
Even Tyler can’t deny the new sense of conviction in her eyes every time he sees her, as if she’s just been waiting for this second chance to prove to him and to Winnie and to herself that she can do it.
Pride shines in her gaze now—pride and an undeniable excitement that he just knows has nothing to do with hockey.
She waves enthusiastically the moment she catches his eye, and then immediately starts rocking an imaginary baby with a grin so wide it’s silly before tossing a double thumbs-up his way.
Oh, fuck!
Tyler pivots on his blades—and smacks directly into his coach. Eyes wide, he looks up in disbelief, shock coursing through his system. “Coach, I’ve got to— I think— Winnie—”
“Her water broke halfway through the second period,” his coach says with a booming laugh that Tyler can’t help but feel is somehow at his expense.
“Apparently, it caused quite a stir in the box. She made us promise not to tell you. Alex went with her, and your in-laws are en route. There’s a chopper waiting for you on the roof.
Go have a baby, Briggs. We’ll handle the postgame without you. ”
“Thank you, sir.” He pauses for just a moment. “Would you do me a favor and mention—”
“Breakaway with Youth Hockey?” The man arches a brow and then laughs. “I’ll gather some posters to send to the kids, too.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
The charity has taken off since being featured on the show, and they’ve expanded to fifteen cities across the country, but still, a little name-drop can’t hurt—especially after a championship win.
Tyler tears across the ice, his teammates congratulating him and teasing him in equal measure as he launches himself out of the rink and sprints awkwardly to the locker room, his skates now slowing him down.
One of the arena security guards leads him up to the roof as soon as he’s back in normal clothes.
Like Coach promised, there’s a helicopter waiting.
He climbs inside and they take to the air, soaring over the congested streets of LA, speeding toward the hospital.
His mind goes back to the day eight months ago when Winnie completely changed his world. They were in Barcelona for a five-year anniversary trip, because as she so often liked to remind him, he had a bargain to fulfill at the top of Mount Tibidabo.
“Okay, I’m setting a fucking timer,” he said as they took their seats on the Ferris wheel.
A trail of laughter tickled his ears as he pulled out his phone and opened the app.
When it was ready, he finally met her teasing gaze.
A frown pulled at his brows. “Thirty seconds on the view, and then you promise, you will never bring this up again?”
“Cross my heart,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes.
The Ferris wheel launched into motion.
“Okay, let’s do this.”
He held out his phone for her to see, and clicked the start button with exaggerated emphasis.
Then he turned his back on her completely, committing fully to the experience of the view for thirty whole seconds.
Her giggles caught on the breeze as they lifted higher.
But he’d never been one to do things halfway, and if she wanted the view with no distractions from him, then she’d damn well get it.
That way he’d never have to hear about this stupid amusement park again.
They’d been all over the world together, taking advantage of his offseason and her flexible work arrangement to travel for weeks on end, but she’d never stopped teasing him about Barcelona.
Well, in about fifteen seconds, he thought with a satisfied smirk, that’ll be done.
As they reached the peak, he admitted with begrudging acceptance that the view really was phenomenal.
The entire city sprawled out beneath them, a sea of terracotta, giving way to the sapphire waters of the real sea beyond.
Sunlight sparkled off the surface of the Mediterranean. Above, the skies were clear.
He took the final second of the timer to really soak it all in, then turned to Winnie with a victorious, “Ha!”
The sound immediately died on his lips. She folded hers into her mouth, biting back a grin. His eyes bugged out of his head at the sight of what she was holding.
“Is that—?” The words caught in his throat, his brain running on hyperdrive, the emotional upheaval too much to overcome.
“A pregnancy test?” she finished for him. “I took it this morning and I have three more in my purse from last week. Want to see what they all have in common?”
She held it out closer and pointed to the little plus sign on the test window.
He gasped, ripping it out of her hand to look for himself. “No shit.”
“Yes, shit.” She grinned.
“I’m gonna— We’re gonna—”
He looked at her in desperation, needing to hear the words. She nodded eagerly and took him by the hands, squeezing his fingers, looking at him with so much love, his entire chest felt as if it might burst from the mirrored happiness within it.
“I’m pregnant,” she whispered, getting choked up herself. Tears spilled from the corners of her eyes. A burning sensation whispered that he wasn’t far behind. “You’re going to be a dad, Ty.”
He pulled her in for a deep kiss, infusing it with all the passion and joy he didn’t know how to express through words. Then he pulled back, staring into her eyes, saying the first clear thing that came to his mind, because it was so inherently obvious, so perfectly true.
“You’re going to be the most amazing mom, Win.”
She held his hands against her cheeks, beaming. “And you’re going to be the best dad. I just know it.”
How?
He shook his head. She couldn’t know that. Fear laced through his tone, a vulnerability he would never show to anyone except her. Because she knew his whole past, and she’d still chosen to give him this beautiful future. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”