Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
DECLAN
The house is quiet when I wake, and for once, I don’t rush to get up.
I just lie there, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything that changed in twenty-four hours.
Two heartbeats.
I keep seeing that ultrasound screen every time I blink, Charlotte’s hand tightening in mine, the way her voice broke when she whispered, “Two.”
Twins.
It still doesn’t feel real.
When I make coffee, I move through the kitchen on autopilot, and the ordinary details hit harder than they should: the half-empty syrup bottle from pancake Saturday, Sophie’s Final poster leaning against the wall, one of her hoodies draped over the chair.
The same house. The same morning.
But everything’s different now.
When Vanessa told me she was pregnant, all I felt was pressure. Static. Like my life was suddenly on rails I hadn’t chosen.
This time, there’s none of that.
Just peace.
It’s terrifying and steady all at once, like standing on solid ice after months of rehab, finally trusting it to hold.
I scroll through my phone and stop at the photo Charlotte texted late last night: two faint shapes in gray, side by side, the caption just a single heart emoji.
My chest tightens.
I don’t know how to explain it, even to myself, but those tiny blurs already feel like the center of everything.
Upstairs, the floor creaks. Sophie moves around, humming under her breath.
She loves Charlotte, but this is still a lot to take in. I need to do this right.
I pour another cup of coffee, take a long breath, and glance toward the stairs.
Time to talk.
Sophie shuffles into the kitchen a few minutes later, still half-asleep, her hair a tangle of curls and last night’s braid. She’s wearing one of my old team hoodies, sleeves swallowed past her hands.
“Morning,” she mumbles, climbing onto a stool.
“Morning, kiddo.” I slide a plate of pancakes in front of her. “Chocolate chip. Thought we’d get an early start.”
Her eyebrows lift. “It’s not Saturday.”
“Consider it a bonus round.” I smile, but my pulse hasn’t settled. The smell of syrup and butter fills the room, familiar and grounding.
She yawns, pouring too much syrup. “You look weirdly happy for someone who has practice later.”
“Do I?”
She nods, chewing. “You’re smiling. Like, a lot.”
I laugh under my breath. “Guess I’ve got good reason.” I sit across from her, elbows on the table. “Hey, Soph. Can we talk about something?”
Her fork pauses mid-air. “Uh-oh. That’s never good.”
“Relax,” I say, smiling. “It’s not bad. Promise.”
She squints, curious. “Okay…”
“It’s about Charlotte,” I start. “You know how much she means to me, right?”
Sophie’s expression softens instantly. “Yeah. I like her. She makes you laugh.”
That gets me. I smile. “She does. And I care about her. A lot. We’ve been talking about what’s next.”
“What’s next?” she echoes.
I take a breath. “We’ve been talking about her moving in. Not right away. After playoffs, once things calm down. But I wanted you to hear it from me first.”
She blinks a few times, processing. “Like… move in here? For real?”
“Yeah. For real.”
“Wow.” She sets her fork down, thinking. “That’s big.”
“It is.” I keep my voice easy. “What do you think?”
She looks down for a second, tracing a syrup circle with her fork. “I mean… I like Charlotte. She’s nice, and she makes you laugh. And she helps me a lot, so…” She shrugs, glancing up. “It’s just… different.”
I nod slowly. “That’s fair.”
“She’s not trying to, like, replace Mom or anything, right?”
“No,” I say immediately, leaning forward. “Never. You’ll always have both of us. Charlotte’s just… part of our team now.”
Sophie studies me for another beat, then her mouth curves into a small smile. “Okay. I think it’ll be good. Just… different, like I said.”
“Different can be good.”
She grins. “As long as we still have pancake Saturdays.”
I laugh, tension finally easing from my shoulders. “Deal. Pancakes are non-negotiable.”
She goes back to eating, humming under her breath. After a minute she adds, almost shy, “I think Charlotte will make the house feel warmer.”
The words hit harder than she probably realizes. I reach across the table and squeeze her hand once. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “I think so too.”
Practice runs long: video review, special teams, another round of interviews.
Everyone’s amped, focused, the kind of edge you only get when the Final is close enough to taste. But my head’s still half somewhere else, back at breakfast, the way Sophie processed everything with more grace than most adults would.
She’s twelve, but sometimes she feels thirty. I don’t know how I got lucky enough to be her dad.
When practice finally breaks, I linger a minute in the empty locker room. The echo of skate blades and laughter fades down the hall, and I just sit there, flexing my leg.
Not too long ago, I couldn’t stand on it. Now I’m cleared, gearing up for the Final, and somehow we’re having twins.
The thought makes me laugh under my breath. Two kids. At once.
I can still hear Charlotte’s laugh in the exam room when the doctor said it, that mix of disbelief and joy.
I didn’t think I’d ever get to feel that kind of happiness again.
When I finally leave the rink, the parking lot’s quiet. I sit in the truck for a minute, phone in my hand, debating. Mom’s probably home from work, Dad too.
I hit dial before I can overthink it.
Mom answers first. “Declan! You sound good. You eating enough?”
“Hi, Ma. Yeah, I’m fine. How’s Dad?”
“Restless,” she says, and I can hear him in the background protesting. “Doctor says another few weeks and he can start walking laps again.”
A beat later, Dad’s voice cuts in, rough but warm. “Don’t listen to her. I’m stronger than ever.”
I laugh. “Glad to hear it. You sound good, old man.”
“Don’t call me that,” he mutters, but I can hear the smile. “How’s the leg?”
“Solid,” I say. “The Final is around the corner. I’ll be back in the lineup.”
“Good. Team needs you.” There’s pride in his voice. “How’s Sophie doing?”
“Great. Growing too fast. She’s… she’s really happy.”
There’s a pause, just long enough for Mom to catch it. “And you sound happy too.”
I exhale. “I am.” Then, before I can talk myself out of it, I add, “Actually, there’s something I should tell you.”
There’s a short pause, then Mom’s voice softens. “Go on.”
“It’s Charlotte Blake,” I say.
Another pause. “David’s sister? You said she was helping with your rehab.”
“Yeah,” I say, smiling. “She’s been incredible. And… we’ve been seeing each other for a while now. Sophie knows, and it’s going really well.”
Dad lets out a quiet laugh. “You and the girl who used to follow you and David around the rink giving advice? Never thought I’d see the day.”
“That makes two of us,” I admit, laughing.
Mom’s voice softens. “Well, that sunshine of hers probably did you some good. We’re happy for you, sweetheart.”
Dad adds, “Tell her hello for us. Once I’m cleared to travel, we’ll come up for a game. I’d like to meet the woman who finally tamed our captain.”
The back of my throat tightens with a smile. “She’ll like that. So will I.”
I clear my throat, heart pounding. “That’s not all, though.”
Another pause. “What do you mean?”
I lean back in the seat, staring at the mountains catching the last bit of light. “She’s pregnant.”
Mom gasps. “Pregnant?”
“Yeah. We just found out.” I hesitate, grinning despite myself. “Twins.”
For a second, all I hear is stunned silence. Then both of them talk at once.
“What?!” Dad blurts. “Jesus, Declan. Twins?”
“Oh, honey,” Mom breathes. “That’s wonderful. How’s she feeling?”
Dad exhales, then laughs once. “It’s a good thing you have so many bedrooms.”
I laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. “We’ll figure it out. She’s doing great. We’re keeping it quiet for now, until the playoffs are over, but… I wanted you to know.”
Mom’s voice wobbles a little. “I’m so happy for you, sweetheart. Really.”
Dad clears his throat. “I’ll start building a crib. Or two.”
I shake my head, smiling. “Just focus on your recovery, alright?”
“Recovery’s pretty much done,” he says, voice thick with emotion he’s pretending isn’t there. “Now I’ve got grandbabies to meet.”
“Soon,” I promise.
When we hang up, I just sit there for a minute, phone still in my hand, staring out at the skyline.
Everything feels big and solid at the same time, like every hard thing I’ve fought through finally led here.
I’ve got my team. My daughter. The woman I love.
And now two more reasons to fight for every damn thing that matters.
The house settles after dishes. The TV is low, the dishwasher humming. Sophie’s on the end of the couch with her tablet, legs tucked under her.
“Hey,” she says, not looking up. “If Charlotte’s moving in after the playoffs, should I clear a shelf in the hall closet? The one with the board games?” She glances over, gauging me. “And… do you think she likes cinnamon raisin or plain bagels? I’m making a list.”
It hits me how thoughtful she’s being about this. “Bagel diplomacy. Smart play,” I say, smiling. “Maybe ask her?”
She chews her lip, then nods. “Yeah. Also… it’s gonna be weird.” A beat. “But I think it’ll be good weird.”
“Me too,” I say, because honesty matters. “We’ll make space. Together.”
She exhales, tension easing. “Okay.” Then, practical again: “Can I make a group chat? For, like, logistics and snacks? No dad jokes allowed.”
“Deal. But if it turns into a meme war, I’m leaving,” I say.
Ten seconds later, my phone pings and it’s the group chat with me, Sophie, and Charlotte. Sophie fires off two messages:
Taking orders: bagels, cereal, anything you’re picky about, Charlotte?
Also we might need a shoe rack. Our entryway is a disaster.
Charlotte replies almost immediately:
Plain bagel, strawberry jam. And I fully support the shoe rack.
Then: Thanks for thinking of me, Soph.
Sophie grins, satisfied, and heads upstairs with her tablet. Halfway up, she looks back. “Night, Dad.”
“Night, kiddo.”
A minute later, Charlotte texts.
Sophie’s handling this so well. You raised an incredible kid.
I smile, typing back:
She makes it easy most days.
I sink back into the couch, the house quiet and full in a way it hasn’t been in years.
The Final’s ahead. The twins. The woman I love.
And maybe that’s what I’ve been waiting for all along. Not just a place to land, but someone to build it with. The kind of certainty that makes you want to put down roots, to make it permanent.
For the first time in a long time, the future doesn’t scare me.
It feels like home.