Chapter 14
“Are you ready?” Coach Tremblay slapped my shoulder in the locker room after morning skate. “How are you feeling?”
I took stock of myself the way I’d been taught over the last two weeks. “Nervous, but good.”
My mandatory personal leave was up as of today, and I was slated to make my return to the ice tonight. It was a home game, and Leena and Shannon would be there. Between that and everything I’d worked through with Kevin, I felt steadier than I had in weeks.
My heartbeat still picked up every time I thought about stepping back onto the ice. My chest still ached if I let myself imagine everything that could go wrong. But I didn’t spiral as often anymore.
It’s adrenaline, I reminded myself. Leena is safe.
A slow breath in.
Longer out.
For the last few days we’d been practicing this, and every time, my pulse settled.
Coach studied me for another second before nodding once. “Good.”
“That’s it?”
He shrugged. “That’s it. Just play me some good hockey tonight.”
I broke everything down into the next step, which helped me more than I cared to admit.
Morning skate.
Go home.
Eat lunch.
Take a nap with Leena.
Play good hockey.
Somehow, reducing an overwhelming day into five manageable pieces made all the difference.
I couldn’t count how many times Kevin had reminded me that feeling anxious didn’t mean I was failing. I couldn’t make all my triggers disappear, no matter how much I wanted to. But if I could recognize anxiety for what it was… that was a win.
It didn’t hurt that every day I came home to Shannon playing with Leena, who was making as much progress as I was. And I was learning too—how to slow down, how to encourage speech without forcing it, how to see the tiny progress steps she made.
Like every day, my worries eased the closer I got to home. When the elevator doors opened, it disappeared entirely. A delighted shriek echoed down the hallway as Leena spotted me. She took off at a run, blond curls bouncing with every determined step.
“There’s my favorite girl.” I scooped her into my arms and tossed her into the air, earning another fit of giggles before peppering kisses across her cheeks. “How was your day, hmm?”
She answered me in a string of gibberish, but it was sounding a lot like she was trying to say something.
“That’s right,” Shannon called from the kitchen as if she’d understood the whole thing. “You finger-painted a masterpiece and read six books. She’s had a busy morning.”
Leena’s face lit up, launching into another animated explanation. But somewhere over the last couple of weeks, I’d stopped hearing babble. Instead, Shannon had taught me to hear conversation even if I didn’t understand it.
“No kidding?” I asked, matching Shannon’s tone. “Then what happened?”
Leena answered with another emphatic string of nonsense, waving both hands like she couldn’t believe I even had to ask.
“Wow,” I said. “You’re so talented.”
Her delighted squeal filled the apartment, and I couldn’t help but grin.
My eyes found Shannon’s where she stood at the kitchen island, a dish towel slung over one shoulder, watching us with the softest smile.
“How’d it go?” she asked.
“Good.” I couldn’t stop smiling, not when everything felt this good. “I’m ready.”
She grinned back. “I knew you would be.”
Her quiet confidence in me did more than any pep talk could have.
Even that smile… my chest swelled with pride.
It was ridiculous how much I liked earning that expression, and she gave it out freely lately.
When I chatted with Leena, when I told her about some breakthrough with Kevin, when we sat in silence every night, reading together.
When she looked at me, I didn’t see worry. I saw someone who believed I could do this. That I could be a good dad and a good teammate if I had a team at home too.
I kissed Leena on the cheek one more time before she wiggled out of my arms and made a beeline for her high chair, attempting to climb into it herself.
“Whoa, there.” I caught her around the waist before she could topple the whole thing over. “Let’s leave the mountain climbing until after your nap.”
Lunch was simple—grilled cheese cut into little squares for Leena and Shannon, yet another chicken and rice for me—but somewhere between wiping yogurt off tiny fingers and fishing a dropped spoon out from under the table, eating together had become one of my favorite parts of the day.
Leena shoved another bite into her mouth before announcing, “Mmm!”
Shannon nodded thoughtfully. “Cheese is always better than chicken and veggies.”
Leena answered with another enthusiastic string of babble.
“I know,” I said. “She’s not nearly as bad of a cook as she said she was.”
Shannon winked at me, and damn, I liked that too. “See? You’re getting good at this.”
I cleared my throat. “So, tonight.”
“I’ve got it.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“I have a feeling you were about to give me seventeen instructions.”
“...Maybe twelve.”
She laughed, and I couldn’t help but grin.
“I’m riding to the arena with Logan,” I began. “That way we can all come home together afterward. And I left your tickets on the counter. They’re lower level, behind our bench. If...” I hesitated, hating that the next part still felt necessary. “If I need to find you, I know where to look.”
“We’ll be there.”
“And Leena’s headphones—”
“Already packed.”
I blinked.
“In my backpack,” she clarified. “Along with her water, an extra outfit, wipes, three diapers, her favorite moose, and multiple emergency snacks. I’m thinking she’s going to love a hot pretzel too.”
I stared at her, a little gobsmacked that she had this down already. We hadn’t left the house much in the last two weeks, but Shannon was meticulous about everything she did. It shouldn’t have surprised me, and yet it did. “You already thought of everything.”
That smirk of hers returned, grey eyes glittering. “I know.”
The way she said it wasn’t so much arrogance as it was confidence, and the tightness in my chest loosened even more.
“The family waiting room after the game.” I focused on the table, trying to sound like I wasn’t thinking about how much I loved the idea of them waiting for me after the game. “Not the lobby.”
“I saw the map you printed. We’ll be there.”
“If something happens—”
She reached across the table and grabbed my hand. “Mikko.”
When I didn’t look up, she squeezed it.
“You play hockey.” Her voice was calm. Matter-of-fact, even. “Trust me. I’ve got the rest.”
Every instinct I had wanted to argue. To double-check. To make sure she’d remembered every little detail. But when I looked across the table, Leena happily kicked her feet beneath her high chair while Shannon reached over to wipe yogurt off her chin without interrupting our conversation.
Although she’d only been here for two weeks, Shannon made caring for my daughter look as natural as breathing.
“Okay,” I said quietly.
Leena rubbed at one eye with a sticky fist before letting out a dramatic yawn.
“Looks like somebody’s about done for the morning.”
I stood, scooping her into my arms. She rested her head against my shoulder with another sleepy little hum. As I started toward the hallway, I paused and looked back. “Do you know what you’re wearing tonight?”
Shannon turned to look at me, the last bite of her grilled cheese in hand. “Mikko, you can boss me around all you like. But I draw the line at dressing me.”
This time it was my turn to smirk, loving the bite in her words almost as much as I loved the way she was so sweet to my daughter. “Wasn’t trying to. But if you wanted a—”
She held up a hand. “I will wear your ring and be your hot wife. But do not ask me to wear your jersey. No can do.”
I chuckled, even as the image of her wearing my last name across her back came to mind. Normally I wasn’t a possessive asshole, but I liked the idea of that.
Someday.
“Combat boots are good.”
She kicked a foot out to the side, showing her black boots and ripped jeans. “Good, because I still like my Docs more than you.”
Leena let out another yawn, and I walked with her down the hall. But instead of turning into her nursery across from my room, I took her into my bedroom. With the touch of a button, the sheer shades gave way to blackout curtains, washing us both in darkness.
“Wanna nap with me today, sweet girl?” I kissed her temple, and Leena leaned harder into me.
Together, we lay down on my bed, my hand resting on her tiny chest until I felt her settle next to me. Within minutes, her breathing changed into the slow, even rhythm that had become my favorite sound in the world.
I lay there a little longer, my hand still resting against her ribs, feeling them rise and fall beneath my palm.
From somewhere else in the apartment came the faint clatter of dishes and Shannon humming to herself while she cleaned up lunch, even though I repeatedly told her that wasn’t her job. But every time, she insisted she’d do the dishes in her own home, so what was different about this?
The corners of my mouth tugged into an involuntary smile.
Home.
This time last year, home was an empty penthouse, quiet and lonely. Now, it was the sound of little feet running across hardwood floors, the faint smell of floral perfume, and the feeling of peace I found within these walls.
I closed my eyes, letting the familiarity of it all wash over me until sleep finally claimed us both.
Logan and I pulled into the players’ garage beneath the arena later that afternoon, and the calm I’d felt settled into something halfway between nerves and anticipation.
“Nervous?” Logan asked as we climbed out of his truck.
I fiddled with the label on my Gatorade. “That I’ll punch the next person in the mouth who asks me that? Yes.”
He bumped my shoulder. “Oh good. The asshole is back.”
Before thousands of fans filled the seats, the arena was quieter than people imagined. All I heard were the sounds that made hockey possible—the rumble of the Zamboni, tape tearing in the equipment room, skate blades being sharpened somewhere down the hall.
We walked into the locker room buzzing with its usual pregame routine. Music thumped through the speakers while someone argued over where the players were going for post-game drinks. Logan was already spouting inaccurate Star Wars references to piss off Kozy, and everyone else chirped them both.
Normal.
I got dressed slowly.
Tape.
Pads.
Skates.
One buckle, then the next.
One slow breath.
Longer out.
Coach finished the final instructions, and my pulse climbed again. But I reminded myself that it always did this, even before Leena.
Adrenaline. Not anxiety.
I rolled my shoulders, then followed my teammates down the tunnel for warmups. The walk between the locker room and the ice seemed longer than I remembered, but I focused on my feet.
One foot in front of the other.
Fans roared beyond the concrete walls, and my pulse ticked higher.
Leena is safe.
Another breath in.
Longer out.
Cold air rushed over me as I neared the rink, like a blast of reality, a reminder of why I loved this game so much. I pushed off the boards and followed Logan onto the ice.
The arena cheered seeing me back with the team, and I tried to soak it in. To feel their excitement. But for one terrifying second, every instinct told me to go back to the locker room. To go home.
Instead of giving in to the impulse, I looked for her.
Lower bowl.
Left of the bench.
In seconds, I found them. Except Shannon wasn’t sitting in the seats I’d picked for her. No, she stood against the glass with Leena balanced on one hip, both of them already looking for me.
My daughter wore a tiny Yeti jersey with the sleeves rolled up. I grinned before I could stop it, moving toward them as if drawn by a magnet.
Like she warned me, Shannon wasn’t wearing a jersey, but there was more to her outfit than her typical band tee and combat boots.
She’d somehow supported me in the most Shannon way possible.
A blue knit beanie covered her dark hair, a matching one perched on Leena’s head.
Around Shannon’s waist was a blue-and-white flannel that was suspiciously coordinated with our team colors.
I brushed a gloved hand over my mouth, appreciating this view.
Sometimes all it took was a simple glance at Shannon to steal my breath, every inch of her so gorgeous I couldn’t look away. But like this? Holding my baby? Wearing my colors and my ring?
She looked like mine.
I skated toward them before warmups officially started. Leena spotted me first, leaning toward the glass.
“Da!”
It wasn’t a perfect word, but she’d started saying it often enough it made my chest ache. Shannon spun so I could see the back of my daughter’s jersey where white letters spelled out Dada. And beneath it, my number. 68.
I tapped my glove against the glass, and her whole face lit up. “That’s right. I’m Dada.”
She slapped her tiny hand against the same spot, giggling when my hand lined up with hers.
Shannon smiled at me too, the biggest one I’d seen yet. Not worried. Not asking if I was okay. Just confident, like she already knew I could do this.
Breathe in.
Longer out.
This one was easy. Not quite normal still, but it felt less forced than every breath before it.
“You got this,” Shannon said. The words were muffled through the glass, but I understood her perfectly.
Especially when she put her hand against the glass, ring flashing for all to see.
I put my hand against hers, the small connection meaning more to me than any other words today. “We’re rooting for you!”
With one last deep breath, I skated backward away from the boards, giving them one more wave.
Fuck it.
It was game day, baby.