Chapter 28
SUTTON
Ispot Campbell’s father immediately when I enter my owner’s box.
Tom Stockton rises from his chair with careful precision, his movements deliberate in the way of someone whose joints don’t always cooperate.
But his smile is warm and genuine, reaching his eyes in a way that immediately reminds me of his son.
“Ms. Mahoney,” he says, extending his hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Though I have to say, after that press conference last week, I feel like I already know you pretty well.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “I hope I made a decent impression. And please, call me Sutton.”
“Decent?” His laugh is rich and amused. “Young lady, you made my son look like the luckiest man in Virginia. Which, for the record, I happen to think he is.”
“You know, I’ve heard a lot about you, too.” I settle into the chair beside him as the players take the ice for warm-ups. “And in my opinion, he’s pretty lucky to have you in his corner.”
“We’re lucky to have each other to lean on. And now we’re lucky to have you, too, it seems.” Tom’s voice is quiet, sincere. “I was worried he’d never find someone who understood what he was really worth. Someone who’d fight for him the way I’ve watched him fight for everyone else.”
Down on the ice, Campbell glides through warm-ups, and I can see Tom’s pride radiating as he watches his son.
The game is already in the third period—Renegades up 3–1—and I find myself relaxing as I watch Tom cheer for the team. He knows the players by name, understands the strategy, and has clearly been following every game despite his health challenges.
“Campbell tells me you’ve been having a rough time lately,” I say during a break.
“He’s being dramatic,” Tom jokes as he waves a hand dismissively.
“Rheumatoid arthritis. Makes me feel ancient some days, but the doctors have me on a good regimen now. Besides”—he glances at his son on the ice—“I think having something to celebrate has been better medicine than anything they’ve prescribed. ”
“Something to celebrate?”
“His leadership within the Renegades, the possibility of moving up with this new team, The Dominion, and now you.” Tom’s voice is quiet, meant just for me.
“I’ve spent time worried about my son. When his mother passed away, he took on more responsibility than he even let on to me.
From making sure the oil was changed in my car to us having groceries each week, he made sure it was handled.
If I was supposed to go to a dentist appointment, he was in my business, putting it on the calendar and making sure I went.
That boy of mine has spent so much time focusing on me.
I was worried he would side-step this part of his life entirely. ”
The words hit me harder than I would expect. “I’m glad I’m able to be around this part of Campbell, to watch this time in his life.”
“No doubt he’s happy for you, too, but,” Tom says, nudging my arm with his, “me? I’m ecstatic you two found one another.
I know it sounds really cheesy, and maybe a little old-fashioned, but that kid of mine?
He’s got a lot of love to give, and I’ve always wanted to see him channel that energy to the right person when he was ready. ”
Tom’s words wash over me, the hair on my arm standing on end as I think about that sweet giant of mine who is currently on the ice making one heck of a pass to Sawyer.
They move down to the opposing goal, and the arena erupts as Sawyer slams the puck over to Campbell, who in turn smacks it dead center into the net.
Tom is on his feet cheering despite his stiff joints.
“That’s my boy!” he shouts, then sits back down with a satisfied grin. “You know, I’ve always known he could make it as far as he has. When he first started, he had a coach who told him that because he was ‘underweight’ he’d never make it.”
“When he first started?” I repeat. “When he was younger or in college?”
“It was a junior league and he was barely in high school.” Tom chuckles. “Of course he was underweight, he was a scrawny kid who needed to fill out. Like a poodle when you wash ‘em.”
I grin at this visual, the kind only a father can give. “That’s pretty rude to say when he was that age.”
“It really was, and I made sure that coach knew about it when I went and took Campbell off his team, and then enrolled him in private lessons. When it came time for tryouts the next year, he made the cut easily. The same coach came up to me afterward and said, ‘Guess you two proved me wrong.’ I just told him, ‘I don’t need to prove a thing to you, but Campbell has been doing that his whole life, and will continue to do it if you just stay with him.’”
I grin. “It’s about loyalty, really.”
“It is.” Something in Tom’s expression shifts as he looks at me. “That’s something I like about you, Sutton. I like your style when it comes to loyalty. That press conference of yours made it pretty clear you’re willing to go to bat for him. That means everything to a father.”
The game ends with a 4–1 victory, and the crowd is still cheering as we make our way down toward the locker rooms. The concourse is buzzing with excited fans, and I notice several people pointing at us with their phones out.
Not too long ago, that would have made me panic. Now I just smile and wave.
“Is it weird that these people know about your personal business now?” Tom asks, noticing my reaction.
“I’m getting used to not caring,” I admit. “Turns out being honest about your life is a lot less stressful than hiding it.”
“Campbell mentioned the press has been much kinder since you faced them head-on.”
“Mostly. There are still critics, but they’re outnumbered by people who seem to appreciate the transparency.” I pause as we reach the corridor outside the locker rooms. “Plus, it helps that Campbell’s been playing like he’s possessed. Hard to argue with results.”
“Love will do that to a man,” Tom says with a knowing smile. “Make him want to be the best version of himself.”
We settle into the family waiting area while Campbell changes out of his gear.
Other families mill around—wives, girlfriends, kids in team jerseys.
I’ve been in this area before for team events, but never as someone’s girlfriend.
Never as someone who belongs here personally instead of professionally.
It’s equal parts nerve-wracking and thrilling.
“Sutton!” Anna appears beside me, grinning like she’s just won the lottery. “Look at you, down here with the WAGS.”
“Honestly, there needs to be another name for the wives and girlfriends than WAGS,” I say as I give her a hug. “How long does this post-game routine usually take?”
“Another ten minutes or so. They’ll do media, as you know, shower, change into their suits.” Anna glances around the family area. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Being here because you want to be, not because you have to be.”
She’s right. For years, I’ve been in team spaces because it was my job, my responsibility, my role as owner. Now I’m here because I’m falling in love with someone, and the difference is startling.
The locker room doors open, and players start filtering out in their game-day suits.
Campbell appears near the end of the group, and the sight of him stops my breath for a second.
Dark charcoal suit, crisp white shirt, hair still damp from his shower.
He looks like he walked off the cover of a magazine.
He spots us immediately and heads over, his smile widening when he sees his father.
“You and that pass in the third period,” Tom remarks, standing to embrace his son. “Perfect threading the needle.”
“Sawyer made it easy,” Campbell says, but he’s glowing with pride. “I’m glad you were here to see it.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it.” Tom claps him on the shoulder, then grins at both of us. “And I got to spend the evening getting to know your girlfriend. Much better than when you kept calling her ‘the situation.’”
Campbell groans. “Dad, please don’t embarrass me in front of Sutton.”
“Girlfriend,” Tom continues, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “I like the sound of that. Much better than ‘Dad, the situation is complicated.’ ‘Dad, I don’t know how to handle the situation.’”
“I never called her a situation that many times,” Campbell protests.
“You absolutely did.” Tom’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “Now she’s got a name and everything.”
I laugh despite myself. “I like him already.”
“Don’t encourage him,” Campbell warns, but he’s smiling, too. “He’s been like this all my life.”
“Someone has to keep you humble,” Tom says. “Now, I’m going to head out to the car while you say goodnight to your girlfriend. But keep it appropriate. There are children present.”
“Dad,” Campbell warns, but Tom is already walking away, chuckling to himself.
Campbell turns to me, and I can see the happiness radiating from him. “So? What did you think of him?”
“I think he’s an amazing man who raised an incredible son,” I say simply.
Something soft and warm crosses Campbell’s face. He steps closer, close enough that I can smell his cologne and the lingering scent of arena soap.
“Look at this, you’re here,” he says quietly. “I can’t believe it. I have Sutton Mahoney in the family section, meeting my dad, and, if I’m lucky, in my arms soon, too.”
“I can’t believe it either,” I admit.
He reaches up to cup my face, and I start to step back automatically—we’re in public, people are watching, cameras could be—
Then I stop. We’re not hiding anymore.
Campbell sees the moment I realize it, too, sees me consciously choose to stay where I am instead of pulling away.
“No more hiding,” I whisper.
“No more hiding,” he agrees.
And then he’s kissing me right there in the family corridor of the Renegades arena, with other players’ families milling around and probably a dozen phones recording the whole thing. Kissing me like I’m his and he’s mine and everyone is welcome to know it.
When we finally break apart, both of us breathing hard, I can hear a few people clapping. Campbell grins down at me, his eyes bright with happiness and mischief.
“So,” he says, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. “Same time next week?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I say, and mean every word.
As we walk toward the parking lot together—Campbell’s hand firmly holding mine, both of us nodding to fans and reporters like the public couple we now are—I realize this is what I’ve been afraid of all along. Not the scrutiny or the complications or the professional challenges.
I’ve been afraid of being this happy. Of wanting something this much. Of finding someone worth fighting for.
But as Campbell opens my car door and kisses me one more time under the arena lights, I know I was right to be scared. This kind of happiness is terrifying.
But it’s also absolutely worth it. Highly recommend.