Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
A Bears girl
Deacon
The roar hits like a wave the second the puck drops.
Usually, I’d feel that rush in my chest, that instinct I fight until my line takes the ice to lace up and get out there, but tonight, all it does is make my head pound.
The lights bounce off the ice hard enough to let me know it’s there, but not as bad as sitting arena side.
Not that I want to miss it, I have a mission of my own, but tonight I dragged Paul here at Koa’s request.
The girls are doing their thing, cheering on the Bears, even little Savannah is decked out, and yes, Claudia has the tiny little ear muffs that I gave her, which made her pull a face, but only momentarily.
“It's not about fashion tonight, my sweet little one,” she had joked.
Do I want to be closer? That need drives harder every time I'm in the same area as her; it’s alive inside of me, but this is their thing. And the fact that I want it to be her thing for a long time, I’m not about to fuck it up.
So, I focus on Paul and the game.
Paul leans forward, elbows braced on his knees. “Johnson’s glove side’s lagging again,” he mutters. “You see that?”
“Yeah,” I say, squinting. “He’s dropping early. Leaving rebounds like candy at Halloween.”
Paul snorts. “Kid’s allergic to the puck.”
“Or to pressure,” I say.
We both watch as the defense scrambles to clean up the mess, bodies flying in front of the net to block shots that should’ve been saves. It’s painful hockey, too much heart wasted on covering someone else’s screwups.
Then the bench door opens, and the whole box seems to hold its breath. Williams Junior skates out, not to the line, but to the crease. My position.
Paul blinks. “You gotta be kidding me.”
I lean forward, headache forgotten for a second. “They pulled him up from the farm team?”
“Kid’s twenty-two,” Paul mutters, shaking his head. “Threw him right into the fire.”
Down on the ice, Williams Junior drops into his stance like he’s been doing this for years. He’s calm. Controlled. No twitchy movements, no panic. Just laser focus.
“Kids damn good,” I say. I know it’s a fact, I’ve watched his tapes.
First shot comes fast—a slap from the point—and he snatches it midair like it’s nothing. The crowd goes off.
Paul lets out a low whistle. “Alright, kid. Show me more.”
And he does. He reads every rush, tracks every puck through traffic. The defense actually starts trusting him, tightening up, feeding off his energy. When he kicks a rebound wide and recovers before the winger can even blink, the place explodes again.
“Finally,” Paul says, pounding the glass. “A goalie who remembers the net’s the place you are supposed to keep the puck out of.”
I can’t help grinning. “Steady. Poised. He’s not trying to make it look good—he’s just good.”
Paul smirks. “Costello’s gonna have a hell of a decision to make when you’re cleared to play. You worried?”
“Not in the slightest.”
And that's also the truth. I’ve played this game since I was old enough to be on skates, 18 years old, worried that my years of English lessons weren’t going to be enough when I came to the States.
Do I want a cup? Hell yes, I do, but the reality is this game is giving me more than I ever imagined.
Sexiest man alive? That one still makes me laugh.
Beside us, Claudia laughs softly, the sound somehow cutting through the thunder of the crowd. She’s got Savannah on her lap, the baby wide-eyed at the light and noise. Paul glances over and grins.
“That little one’s got better focus than Johnson,” he says.
Claudia smiles, eyes still on the ice. “She knows a good save when she sees one.”
Paul chuckles. “Smart girl.”
Claudia chuckles. “She’s just learning early.”
I catch myself watching Claudia too long—how she presses her lips to Savannah’s head between plays, how her smile lingers even when the crowd dies down.
It’s a quiet strength. The kind of calm I didn’t know I missed until now.
The kind my mom has always shown, and I have never once seen in women that I have lain down with.
And I cannot wait to feel all that surrounding my dick. Leveled up.
Then Paul groans. “There he goes again.”
Johnson gives up a soft one, and the whole arena groans. I bite back a curse. “Team’s skating uphill every shift because of him.”
Paul grumbles, “If I were younger, I’d march down there and yank him myself.”
“You, the whole team, and half the fans,” I say, rubbing at my temple.
The clock winds down. It’s tied, tension bleeding through every slap of the stick. I can feel it in my bones—the whole arena leaning forward at once.
Then I notice movement beside me—Nalani pushing up from her seat, eyes wild, hands shaking. “I can’t stay up here,” she says to Sofie, and before anyone can stop her, she’s gone, heels clacking down the hallway.
Paul raises an eyebrow. “She knows?”
I shake my head. “Not a clue.”
He chuckles, low and knowing. “Then she’s about to find out.”
Claudia’s watching the ice now, mouth parted, eyes bright. “What’s happening?”
“Watch,” Paul says simply.
Koa’s down there, number twenty-nine, fire in his stride. He’s moving like a man who’s got something to lose and something bigger to prove. He locks in, cuts left, feints right, and in one beautiful, ruthless motion, he rockets the puck past the goalie.
The horn blares. The place erupts. Paul’s on his feet, fist in the air. “That’s how it’s done!”
Claudia cheers, clutching Savannah, laughter breaking through her shock.
And then, as the noise starts to swell again, Koa grabs a mic. Paul goes still beside me. “Oh, hell. Here we go.”
Down below, Nalani’s pressed against the glass, tears streaking, unaware until he turns, until he starts talking. You can feel twenty thousand people hold their breath.
He drops to one knee.
The crowd loses it.
Claudia’s still standing, one hand over her heart, whispering something I can’t hear. Savannah babbles up at her.
Paul exhales through his nose. “Good night for the Bears.”
“Great one for him,” I say. “Maybe for all of us.”
When the crowd finally starts to thin, Paul turns to me. “You driving?”
“Yeah.” I glance at Claudia. “You wanna go out with your girls? I can handle all but the feeding part.”
Claudia smiles and arches a brow. “You change diapers?”
“We could figure it out,” Paul offers.
She smiles, “Savannah’s out cold. And I’ve got packing to do.”
“Then you’re with us,” I tell her. “No sense hanging around.”
Paul grumbles, “Good. I’m too old to drink with idiots anyway.”
As we start for the elevator, Claudia shifts the baby higher on her shoulder. “You sure you’re okay to drive? With the concussion?”
“I’m—”
She cuts me off, half warning, half care. “I am licensed. I think—”
“You ever drive in the City, kid?” Paul chuckles.
“Not yet, but I refuse not to master it.”
“Good girl,” I whisper.
We walk out into the night, city lights flashing off the river to the waiting SUV, and open the door. “I don’t mess with keeping people important to me safe.”
Claudia looks at me for a long moment, something unreadable in her eyes, then nods. “Good.”
The ride is quiet, the city lights streaking across the windows in gold and silver.
Paul dozes off in the passenger seat, head tilted back, muttering every now and then about bad goaltending and Koa’s miracle finish.
Savannah sleeps in her carrier between Claudia and me.
Her tiny hand curled around Claudia’s finger. It’s beautiful.
I carry the car seat in as Claudia stands beside and slightly behind Paul, who is ahead of us.
Inside, she pauses, “I’ve got her.”
She opens her mouth to protest, then stops. I don’t know if it’s exhaustion, trust, or something else, but she lets me pick her up. Savannah fits against my chest like she belongs there, warm and weightless, her head tucking under my chin.
Inside, the house is quiet. The kind of quiet that feels earned. Claudia disappears down the hall, making sure Paul gets in without a spill; it’s his last night here for a while, and theirs too. I head upstairs.
When I get to the top of the fourth floor, Claudia’s standing there. Thankfully, I don’t startle easily.
“How did you—”
“Elevators fixed, remember?” She smiles.
“Your mom likes getting one over on me,” I chuckle as Claudia moves to open the door. “Little does she know I have no problem being at the bottom from time to time.”
I watch as her spine straightens and she misses just a beat before unlocking the door.
“Okay if I use the bathroom?” she asks.
“Yeah, we’re good,” I answer, then whisper to the sleeping beauty. “Isn’t that right, little one?”
I stay in the living room, rocking Savannah gently when she starts to stir. “Hey, little one. You did good tonight. Cheered at all the right times and looked adorable. You’re a Bears girl, aren't you?”
Her tiny hand opens and closes against my chest as I walk into the bedroom and see the little crib thing set up. “Are these little pink pajamas yours? I'm guessing that's why they're lying on the bed, think you and I can figure this out, give mom a break tonight?”
I lay her on the little changing pad and, without thinking twice, get her all changed into a fresh onesie and the pink footie pajamas. It feels natural.
“You’re gonna have a beautiful life,” I murmur to her.
“No matter how this plays out. Even if your mom doesn’t want my help, I’ll make sure he doesn’t get the chance to make you feel like you were ever an afterthought.
Because if it had been me…” I pause, the words catching in my throat.
“If it had been me, I’d have known I was the luckiest man in the world. ”
I catch Claudia out of the corner of my eye. She just stands there, the light from the other room wrapped around her, making her glow. Her eyes shine—not tears exactly, but something close.
I lay Savannah down gently, pulling the blanket up to her chin. She sighs in her sleep, that soft baby sound that hits right in the heart.
When I turn, Claudia’s still there, lips parted, breath shallow.
I should step back. I don’t.
Her whisper barely makes it across the room. “You really mean that?”
I nod once. “Every word.”
“I’m not in a place where I can do much more than I am now, and to be honest, I don’t want to go on a head trip. Swore them off by sophomore year in college.”
For a long heartbeat, neither of us moves. Then I start to cross the room, slow enough that she knows every step is deliberate and what’s to come. She doesn’t back away.
Her breathing shifts, shallower, her eyes tracking mine. I stop close enough to feel her warmth, to see the tiny tremor in her hands where they hover near her sides.
She swallows hard, and I can see the pulse flutter at her throat. The faint rise of goosebumps on her skin catches the light. The space between us hums. It’s charged, unspoken, real.
Neither of us speaks. We just stand there, caught in the same gravity. The quiet is louder than words, stretching tight until it almost hurts.
When I finally breathe, it’s against her hair, and she shivers. “Tell me no.”