Chapter 46
Forty-Six
Leo
“Fuck, yeah!” Smitty shouts as he bum rushes me, wrapping his arms around me and sending us crashing into the boards, Sawyer and Gray only a second behind him.
“Beaut,” Sawyer says.
“Sick,” Gray adds.
I’m grinning so damned wide that my face hurts, but I don’t give a fuck.
The crowd is roaring, absolutely roaring. Fans are pounding on the glass behind me. The goal song plays.
But as we break up our celebration and skate to the bench there’s only one person I’m looking for in the stands.
Harper is sitting about ten rows up, wearing a jersey that I know has my name emblazoned on the back, the material clinging to her belly that seems to have grown exponentially in the last couple of months—hell, it’s grown to seemingly astronomic proportions just over the last couple of weeks.
It’s December, our last game before the team’s Christmas break. We’ll have four days off over the holiday and then a short road trip.
Then…it’ll be at our little (or big now, really) potato’s due date.
Harper meets my gaze and winks, mouthing, “Good job.”
I wink back.
A jerk of her chin toward the ice, silently telling me to pay attention.
Grinning, I face forward and focus on the game.
Gotta impress the girl, right?
But I can’t lie—every time I return to the bench after a shift, our eyes connect. And my heart expands.
I’m so fucking in love with her.
Things haven’t been perfect, because neither of us are.
But that doesn’t mean every day hasn’t been better than the last.
I’m literally living the dream.
The final buzzer goes, and we’ve beaten the Gold, something that’s become a lot easier since their former starting goalie, Brit Plantain, retired at the end of last season. They’re in a rebuilding phase, and I’m sure that it won’t take long for them to make us really work for every win.
Right now, though, I’ll take being able to show off handily for my woman.
We do the three stars of the game thing—and as the second star of the game, I sign my puck and toss it over to a girl with pigtails who’s wearing a Grizzlies jersey.
She clutches it to her chest as she smiles up at her mom.
Yeah, we so need to have a little girl.
She can join the duo of Reese and Sophie—Kailey and Smitty’s daughter who’s a couple of months old now—and make a kickass female trio who keeps us on our toes as much as our women do.
Maybe we’ll even get Gray and Faye to join the fun.
I skate off the ice, getting one more wink from my woman who’s going home while I head into the locker room to go through my cool down routine, shower, and change.
I don’t linger and shoot the shit, like I used to—just do the minimum before I leave.
And Aiden, Gray, and Smitty are right beside me.
We have things to get home to.
I make a pit stop on the drive for Harp’s current craving of choice—a certain brand of pretzels and a jar of peanut butter, both of which are easy to grab from the grocery store.
Then I’m pulling into the garage in our new house (because neither of us were taking any chances with my parents…
and because Harper being on the mortgage was important to both of us).
I park next to her car, making sure to leave enough room for her to fully open her door and maneuver her belly in and out.
I grab the bag of pretzels, the jar of crunchy peanut butter, and head inside.
One sniff and…
“Fuck, I love you.”
Harper looks up from the plate of warm oatmeal raisin cookies and smiles at me.
“That’s your stomach talking,” she teases.
I set her stuff down, round the island, and loop my arm around her middle, drawing her back against me. “That’s me talking.”
She smiles, tilts her head back to kiss my jaw. “You played great tonight, handsome.”
God, I love when she calls me that.
“I’m just glad you got to see a good one.”
“Me too.” She picks up a cookie and holds it so I can take a bite.
As I chew, I look around the home we’ve made.
There are photos of us and our family, framed ultrasound pictures on the walls.
Harper’s mixer sits on the counter, a Grizzlies hat is perched on the back of a chair.
Christmas-themed towels hang from the oven and a cheerful centerpiece has a place of honor on the island.
Just a couple of weeks ago, the guys helped me haul in a huge tree and even though I offered to order in some pizzas as thanks, Harper had insisted on cooking.
But everyone had insisted on chipping in with side dishes, so Harp made a roast and we sat around eating and listening to Christmas carols and playing games.
(Harp still whooped my ass in MarioKart.)
It was fucking great—for all of us.
The start of a tradition. Of a future I never even entertained.
And one I know I’m so damned lucky to have.
One I’ll never take for granted.
Harp yawns and leans back more heavily against me.
I snag another cookie, bend down to press my lips to her throat. “Let’s go to bed, Mama.”
“Sounds good. I’ll go wash my face and put on my pajamas.” I kiss her neck again before she pulls away to grin up at me. “Will you bring the pretzels?”
I tap her nose. “And the peanut butter.”
Her face goes soft. “Thanks, handsome.”
She heads for the stairs then freezes, her lips parting on a surprised breath, her hand clamping around her middle.
I’m next to her in an instant. “Harp? Baby?”
She doesn’t respond for what seems like an eternity but is likely only a heartbeat.
Then she looks down.
My gaze follows hers and my heart seizes.
Because her pants are wet and a puddle is growing on the floor and…holy fucking hell.
It’s happening.
“Leo,” she whispers.
“I know.”
Our eyes meet and her smile is both nervous and excited—same as I’m sure mine is.
Then we both speak at once.
“It’s time.”