Epilogue
Dot
I’ve never been in a boy’s locker room, not in elementary school, not in college, and definitely not in a professional NHL context. But I’ve been wracking my brain for a solution, and the plastic baggie tucked into my sweatshirt is burning a hole in my front pocket.
I open the door a crack and peek inside, in case someone is lingering inside, like a janitor or a bouncer. Or Dante.
My pulse is a jackhammer. I’m about to sneak a pee stick into my husband’s locker like a hormonal cat prowler committing a felony. This is either going to be the most romantic surprise ever… or my villain origin story.
I couldn’t just tell him. That’s not how we do things. I needed a moment, a story, a little chaos with a happy ending.
There is, of course, no bouncer, since it’s not a freaking bar. I scoot the door open a little more in anticipation of my reverse-heist.
“Dot?”
I about jump out of my skin as I whirl to slam my back against the door. “I’m allowed to be here!” I screech. “I’m married to a player!”
Violet stands behind me, clipboard in hand, wearing a bemused expression. “I know. I was at your wedding.”
“Oh. Hi, Violet.” I collapse against the closed door with my heart pounding a mile a minute. Which I’ve never understood, because sixty miles an hour isn’t that fast, but whatever. “You scared me.”
“Is there a reason you’re stalking the team locker rooms?” she asks.
I promised myself that Camden would be the first to know, but I have to admit, this looks incriminating. I fish the bag out of my hoodie and hold it up so that the results of the pregnancy tests are facing Vi.
“OHHH, BABY-MAMA ALERT!” Vi claps and goes up on her tippy toes. “You’re glowing, you’re nauseous, you’re holding contraband urine—congratulations!” She squints at the baggie. “So… what’s the plan here? Leave it next to his mouthguard? Because that’s a bacteria crossover no one needs.”
“I was going to hide it in his locker,” I mutter.
“Oh, no, no, no.” She holds out her hand. “Give it here. We’re going big. Public spectacle. Jumbotron tears. Full Love Actually on ice.”
No doubt this will end in a much more public spectacle than I was hoping for, but Camden will probably love it. “Thanks, Vi, you’re a lifesaver.”
Unburdened of my positive pregnancy test, I hustle out to the ice.
Just as Vi said, the game hasn’t gotten started yet.
The guys are in warm-up mode, stretching, shooting, and skating laps.
Sofia and Knova are also waiting by the glass to offer their traditional pre-game kisses to Knight and Viktor respectively.
“Hey.” Knova grins when I sidle up to her. “I thought you were gonna miss this part.”
“Never.” I nibble my thumbnail. I hope Vi’s plan, whatever it is, will work. I’ve been feeling nauseous for the last couple weeks, but with my nerves right now, I’m at risk of ruining this moment by being sick right there on the jumbotron for all to see.
Vi comes out of the back and waves to the mascot. The Venom Viper skates over, the giant snake head wobbling like it’s seen things it can never unsee. Vi slips him the baggie as stealthily as possible. He nods once, solemnly—“mission accepted”—and glides off with my literal pee in hand.
Toward, of all people, Viktor Abbott.
“Nooooo!” I slap my palms against the glass. “Wrong player!”
Violet, too, is waving her arms over her head to get the mascot’s attention.
It’s too late.
The crowd gasps as Viktor freezes mid-stride, staring at the baggie. Then he holds it up to the lights, squinting. “Knova!” he bellows. “Did you…? Are we…?”
Knova blinks. “What are you—oh, hell no. That is not my brand.”
Viktor looks personally betrayed by biology.
“Kill me now.” I thump my forehead against the glass and let it rest there, grateful for the chill. “I’m never taking anyone’s advice ever again.”
“Dot? Are you okay?” Sofia presses a hand to my back.
No. I am not okay. I am in some frozen version of hell, and it’s a hell of my own making.
At least Viktor’s taking this well. Too well, in fact. He’s doing something that might, if I squinted, be the Floss. It’s… very bad. There’s a lot of arm-waving and hip-thrusting. His voice drifts across the ice as he shouts, “Dad bods for the win!” The crowd is losing their minds.
Suddenly, as if summoned by dark magic, Dante appears at my elbow. “Who do I need to kill?”
I grimace. “Er…”
“Metaphorically speaking, of course.”
I tap one finger against the glass. “The mascot gave the pregnancy test to the wrong guy. I was trying to make some magic before the game, Dante.”
“Oh, thank God.” Dante’s frosty expression melts a smidge.
“So Viktor and Knova did not reproduce. Oh, but you and Camden did! Congratulations.” He gestures to the mascot, who starts to skate toward us.
Another sharp gesture sends the mascot back for the test, though Viktor is reluctant to give it up.
After an exchange I can’t hear from this distance, the mascot yanks the test away from Viktor and turns to Dante for more guidance.
Dante points to Camden. At last, my test makes it to the right guy.
“I didn’t know Viktor was so excited to have kids,” Sofia observes.
“Nor did I.” Knova examines her husband with an attentive eye. “Interesting. Though I’d be more interested if he’d stop playing video games until the wee hours, or moved his own dirty socks to the laundry basket.”
A tap on the glass.
No, not a tap.
A knock, right through it.
I blink, startled, and realize there’s no glass between us anymore. One of the panels is gone, like some magic trapdoor was opened for me.
Behind me, Violet gives a tiny wave, looking way too innocent for someone holding a power tool clipboard.
Maintenance. Of course. She got maintenance to pull the panel. For me. For this.
Camden’s already skating toward the opening full speed ahead. He’s clutching the test baggie in one gloved hand like it’s the damn Olympic torch. His helmet’s off, curls wild, eyes burning.
He stops in front of me. Breathless. Unblinking. Mine.
“You’re sure?” he asks, voice low and shaking.
I nod.
His whole face breaks into sunrise.
And then he kisses me.
Not through the glass. Not in front of it. Through it. No barriers. One arm wraps around my back, the other under my thighs—and in the space of a single breath, I’m lifted.
“Camden, what—” I squeak.
“Hold on, wife.”
He skates with me. Onto the ice. With me standing on his boots. Like some kind of feral figure skating routine directed by an ADHD gynecologist. His hands are tight around my waist, my balance wobbly as hell, but I don’t care. I’m clinging to him, laughing, breathless, joy rolling through me.
The crowd? Screaming. Phones out. Jumbotron locked in.
Camden doesn’t even flinch. He raises the pregnancy test in one hand like a trophy.
And yells—at the top of his lungs—
“I put a baby in my wife!”
I don’t think he’s showing off. Not really. More like excited because it’s proof that we made something together. Proof that love can write a future you didn’t even dare whisper.
Twenty thousand people absolutely lose it.
From behind the bench, I spot my dad. The Coach Ranger Shaw slams both palms against the glass, grinning so wide his teeth are visible from the rafters.
“That’s my girl!” he shouts, voice cracking with pride. “I’m gonna be a Papa!”
I hide my face in Cam’s chest, laughing through my tears. And I’ve never loved him more than in this moment, with our whole damn world watching.
He spins me one more time, slow and triumphant, before gently setting me back at the edge of the rink. I wobble, dazed, my palms hot from his chest.
“I love you,” he whispers.
“I love you more.”
He kisses me again—so sweet, so reverent—and then turns to skate back toward the bench…
…only to be tackled by the entire Venom roster.
“Dogpile!” Knight screams. “I call the left leg!”
“Get his helmet!” Viktor yells. “No dad bods now that you’re gonna be a daddy!”
“It’s a baby, not a Stanley Cup!” Sofia shouts from behind me.
“It’s a baby,” I whisper. And underneath the emotion of the moment, I’m crying again.
Behind me, I hear Dante saying, “You’re no mascot. You’re fired.”
“You can’t fire me for this,” the poor guy protests, his oversized snake head listing sideways in panic. “I have an airtight contract, and this isn’t in the job description. Take it up with Renee.”
Renee appears out of nowhere. “Take what up with me?”
Dante wheels on her, eyes gleaming. “He handed a pregnancy test to the wrong player! Do you know what that does to a man’s psyche?” He points to Viktor, who has exited the dog pile but is still using the whole celebration to keep thrusting like he invented impregnation.
Dante bellows, sweeping his arms in despair. “Extinction-era chaos! This is what happens when the magic starts dying!”
Renee rubs her temples. “He’s fine. Everyone’s fine.” Then she points at the Jumbotron. Then at the full capacity arena of screaming fans. “See that, Boss. That’s magic. You’re not firing the mascot.”
“Then I am demoting him to cone duty,” Dante snaps. “He will guard the orange cones. Forever.”
The crowd’s buzzing from Camden’s victory lap and the scoreboard lights flashing hearts across the ice. Dante straightens his tie, the proud general surveying the battlefield after victory.
“You know what, forget the mascot,” he says, voice dropping into something that almost sounds like awe. “You’re right, Renee. The magic is here again.” He gestures toward me and Camden. “The next generation of Venom. Love, legacy, mayhem—it lives.”
His expression softens. “You did good, Dot. You brought the spark back. I always knew I liked you. And your mother before you.”
Then, louder, to the entire arena: “Someone bring me champagne and a baby jersey! We rebuild the empire tonight!”
Renee sighs. “You can’t drink at ice level.”
Dante waves her off. “Then bring me hope in a sports bottle!”
My hand reaches for him and he gives it a squeeze. Then he turns back toward the ice, watching Camden skate one last circle with the test raised high, and under his breath, I swear I hear him say, “At last… the magic’s back where it belongs.”
My hand drifts to my belly. The crowd roars. Camden looks up and grins. And for the first time, I feel it too—Dante’s kind of magic.
The kind my mother carried. The kind that never really left.
###
Thanks for taking the journey with Dot and Camden.
Their story wrecked me in the best way, and I hope it did the same for you.
And if you're craving the next Venom Next Gen emotional sucker punch?
If you want the same blend of heart, heat, chaos, and found family?
If you're ready for a hero who feels and a heroine who’s on the run with a ferret named Kepler?
Then buckle up… because the next book is going to ruin you beautifully.
Meet Minerva Marino.
She walked away from an arranged marriage to a man who terrifies her—and lost everything in the process. Now she’s living out of her car in the underground garage of the Venom arena, hiding, starving, and terrified she won’t survive the week.
Enter Tristan Dubois.
The sweet, lonely winger who’s been quietly aching for something real.
Who’s been going home to an empty condo for months and pretending he doesn’t care. Who looks at Minerva exactly once and decides he’s done keeping his heart on ice.
He thinks he’s getting an assistant.
He ends up getting the one woman who will change everything.
They shouldn’t work.
She’s chaos and fear and genius.
He’s comfort and stability and soft-eyed devotion.
But when danger closes in, fate throws them together—and suddenly Tristan has something worth fighting for off the ice.
Something worth protecting.
Something he wants to keep.
Something he’ll burn the whole damn league down for.
Bets & Blades is a story about trauma and tenderness.
About choosing yourself, choosing safety, choosing love.
About a woman rebuilding her life from the ashes…
…and the hockey player who refuses to let her do it alone.
Get ready to fall in love with the biggest Golden Retriever on the Venom.
Preorder now—your heart’s going to need the warning.
BLADES & BETS
Turn the page for a sneak peek of BLADES & BETS. . .