Chapter 10
10
BOUCHER
Keith hadn’t expected to get called over the second he arrived, but as soon as Coach Starnes waved him down, he knew there was no getting out of it.
“Boucher – you got a moment?”
The timing couldn’t have been worse. He had just walked up to the convention center with Constance and the kids, still trying to get his bearings in this new version of his life. He had brought them early—partly to be a good teammate, shake hands, and represent, but mostly to let the kids burn off some energy. They had been absolute hurricanes this morning.
Fifteen cabinet doors were left open, the bathroom door wide open as Kayla proudly announced she had gone potty, toys strewn from one end of the house to the other. The chaos had him questioning how parents kept their sanity. He had stepped on at least four Barbie shoes with his bare feet, and by the fourth, he was ready to wave a white flag.
And then there was Constance.
She had been tense all morning, barely speaking to him, moving around the house like a coiled spring ready to snap. He didn’t know what was eating at her, but he had the distinct feeling that if he poked the wrong spot, he was going to get bit. Better to keep his distance, let things settle, and remind himself that this whole situation was an adjustment—for everyone.
“I’ll be right back,” he said quickly, pointing at the doors. “I’ll meet you inside.”
“Yup.”
Her clipped tone made him flinch.
Keith sighed and turned away, heading toward where Coach Starnes stood by a table in the distance. He jogged over, shaking off the tension, reminding himself that this was supposed to be a good day. He was excited to see everyone and to reconnect. Part of him wished they were at the arena so he could lace up his skates and show off a little—maybe get some ice time with Paige for the first time.
Instead, he was about to have a conversation he already knew was going to be complicated.
“What’s up, Coach?”
The question triggered a wave of déjà vu , hitting him like a punch to the gut.
One week ago.
Same setup.
Same man.
Very different conversation.
That day, it hadn’t been just Coach Starnes standing there. A woman had been with him—poised, professional, dressed in a sharp suit. She had held out her hand the moment he approached.
“Elizabeth Bergeron,” she had introduced herself as he shook her hand. Her grip was firm, her eyes sharp. She wasn’t someone who messed around.
Keith had glanced at Coach Starnes, but the older man’s face gave away nothing.
“I’m the team’s attorney,” Elizabeth had continued, “and?—”
His stomach had dropped.
The words barely registered before the panic set in. A thick wave of nausea rolled through him, his knees going weak.
He was getting cut.
Today.
Now.
Before he had even played a game.
Before Constance and the kids arrived.
His entire body locked up, and he barely managed to croak out, “I think I’m gonna be sick…”
Elizabeth chuckled. “I have that effect on people.”
She reached under the table and handed him a plastic trash can as if she had been expecting this reaction.
Keith’s hands trembled as he took it, barely able to process what was happening.
“But if you breathe, listen to me, and pay attention—I think Coach Starnes has a fantastic idea, and I know just how to make it work.”
His breath came fast and uneven. “What?” he whispered.
“I’m not getting cut?”
“No!” Coach Starnes sounded almost offended. “Why would you think that? We just signed you, and I need your expertise on the ice. I would never cut you—have you seen yourself play?”
Keith let out a bitter, shaky laugh. “There’s plenty who would disagree…”
His vision blurred as he took huge gulps of air, trying to calm himself. He felt a steadying hand on each of his shoulders—one from Elizabeth, the other from the coach.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I just didn’t sleep well last night, and?—”
“I need you to hear me out,” Coach Starnes interrupted. “I’ve been talking with Elizabeth and the owner about the team. About the image we’re presenting…”
Keith’s gut twisted. He saw it coming before the words even landed.
He bent over, gripping the trash can, squeezing his eyes shut to keep himself together.
Elizabeth didn’t hesitate. “I think I can get it dismissed and removed from your record.”
His head snapped up so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash.
“The convictions,” she clarified, her tone blunt, businesslike. “I can get them removed because I reviewed the files and?—”
“How did you…?”
She smirked. “I get paid very well to dig up anything and everything. And I’m on retainer to clean up messes. Well, Captain Boucher, you’ve got a big ol’ pile of doodie linked to your name.”
Keith’s stomach clenched as he glanced at Coach Starnes, who nodded.
“I need you to step back from the captain position,” Elizabeth continued smoothly.
“What?”
Coach Starnes stepped in. “I’m making Savage the captain for the season.” His voice was gentle and measured. “This isn’t a decision I make lightly, but Elizabeth needs you out of the limelight so she can do her job. She’s already ruffling feathers, requesting documents, making moves to get those convictions of public lewdness and indecency with a minor erased from your record.”
Keith swallowed hard, his whole body vibrating with tension.
“I don’t need that tacked onto my captain’s name during our first season,” the coach continued. “I need someone who looks clean-cut, like a golden boy scout, leading the team on paper. Do you understand?”
Keith stared at him, heart hammering in his chest.
“I need Savage as the captain for now,” Coach Starnes said, “but I need you . I need your expertise. Your leadership. I need you to be patient while Elizabeth fixes this mess, because when she does, you’re taking over next season. And I want you lifting that Stanley Cup when it happens—without a stain on your name.”
Keith barely breathed.
“I’ve been in your shoes,” Coach Starnes admitted. “Not just me—the owner, too.”
The words stunned him.
“We’ve got your back,” Elizabeth added, her voice softer now. “We’re going to fix this. I promise.”
Keith’s throat tightened.
Coach Starnes’ expression was steady, unwavering. “I want that Cup this year. And next. No pay cut, no demotion—just a title shift for now.” He held Keith’s gaze. “Do you think your ego can handle it?”
Keith exhaled shakily. He thought about the headlines. The whispers. The questions.
It didn’t matter.
This was his team. His future.
“You’re serious,” he rasped.
The coach’s voice softened. “You’re a Wolverine. And we take care of our boys.”
Keith swallowed against the lump in his throat.
Coach Starnes held out his hand.
Keith hesitated only a second before gripping it.
And then, before he could stop himself, he stepped forward and hugged the man who had just given him back his future.
“I’ve got your back, kiddo,” Coach Starnes murmured, patting his shoulder.
“You’d be the first, sir,” Keith admitted emotionally. “I’m here – in any capacity you need. I’m a Wolverine for life if you take care of me like this – I will always have you on the ice.”
And Keith meant those words – unless he was about to get cut today, in front of his wife and team, or worse yet? What if Elizabeth couldn’t get the other set of convicted on his record dropped?
Keith shook his head, trying to rid himself of that constant fear. He swallowed against the knot of unease tightening in his throat as he approached Coach Starnes.
The man stood tall and firm beside Elizabeth, their presence a solid wall of authority and confidence—eerily reminiscent of their stance just days ago when everything in Keith’s world had flipped on its head.
But today felt different.
Lighter.
Hopeful, even.
“Boucher, I’ve got an idea, and I want you to take the lead on it,” Coach said, his tone measured but expectant, the way a man speaks when he already knows the answer he’s going to get.
Keith straightened slightly, instinct taking over. “What can I help you with, Coach?”
“I want you to run a class—something for the kids, teaching them hockey. It’ll be a great press event,” Coach explained. “With Elizabeth already getting one of the convictions dropped…”
“WHAT?” Keith blurted, his stomach flipping. He turned sharply to Elizabeth, searching her face for confirmation, for something solid to grab onto.
Elizabeth, ever the picture of unshakable confidence, merely arched a brow. “I’m good,” she said smoothly, her voice carrying an almost amused edge. “Don’t you ever forget it either—give me another week or two, and I’ll have the other one gone, too.”
Keith shook his head in disbelief. “You’re kidding me…”
“Nope,” she replied, flashing a grin that could probably cut through steel. “Now, I need to start showing you off as a family man.”
His mind was still reeling, trying to keep up. The weight on his chest, the uncertainty of his future, the fear of what all of this meant for his career—it had been suffocating. And now? It felt like someone had cracked a window, letting in fresh air.
“How old are your kids?” Coach asked, his tone casual, but there was something knowing in his eyes.
Keith let out a breath, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite himself. “Paige already wants to play hockey,” he admitted, shaking his head as if he still couldn’t believe it. “She’s eight. Kayla is three but will be four soon. She’s a bit young still, but maybe someday?”
“Perfect,” Coach said immediately. “We’ll make it seven and up then. Run them through a few drills, teach them how to skate, let them get familiar with the sticks. Jamie will take some video footage for the internet so we can?—”
“I want it to be a little league team, so they can compete,” Keith cut in, his voice quieter now but full of something he hadn’t expected—longing.
Coach and Elizabeth both turned to him, waiting.
“My daughter wants to play,” he continued, his chest tightening with an unfamiliar sense of pride. “And I’d love to host it. Make it real. Give them something to belong to.”
Coach’s eyes softened just a fraction before he nodded approvingly. “Perfect,” he agreed, gripping Keith’s hand in a firm shake. “We can even play with the name. Instead of the Wolverines, they can be the ‘Kits’ or something like that. Isn’t a kit a baby wolverine?”
Keith chuckled, warmth flooding his veins at the sheer possibility of it all. “Yes, sir.”
Coach clapped a hand on his shoulder, his expression pleased. “Perfect. See Jamie Salas, get a photo of you and your daughter—both in jerseys, holding a stick—and make the announcement. Keep the details vague for now; we’ll handle the paperwork. That’s the boring stuff we get paid for. You, my boy, get to be the pretty face of the ‘Quebec Kits’…”
Keith huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Have you seen me?” He gestured to himself. “I’m nearly washed up in hockey years.”
Coach scoffed, waving him off. “Bahhh… you’re a whelp compared to me.” He gave Keith’s shoulder a firm pat, the touch grounding. “Now get in there. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Keith nodded, but as he turned to go, something settled deep in his chest.
For the first time in a long time, it wasn’t fear.
It was hope.
Now, if he could just smooth out whatever was broken between him and Constance, maybe they could eventually find their way. Perhaps he would make her dinner and set it up with a bunch of candles, almost like a date night or something? Maybe he should take her out on the town? His mind played through so many scenarios as he walked into the doors of the convention center, ready to see his new Wolverine family.
K eith was relieved they had arrived early—more than relieved, actually. The extra time gave him a moment to catch his breath, to shake off the lingering nerves that had been rattling around in his chest since this morning.
Spotting Constance and the kids near the tables, he jogged toward them, his pulse still thrumming from the rush to get there. The cool air nipped at his skin, but he barely noticed. Right now, he had something important to take care of.
“Was everything okay?” Constance’s voice cut through his thoughts, laced with concern as she studied him.
Keith nodded quickly, offering her a reassuring smile, though he could see the guarded look in her eyes. He’d been getting that a lot from her lately. It stung more than he cared to admit, but he pushed that feeling aside. Now wasn’t the time.
“Big surprise—I’ll let you know in a few,” he said, lowering his voice slightly. His gaze flicked to the kids, their faces alight with curiosity. “But first, I completely forgot to tell you and the girls something.”
Paige and Kayla perked up at the sound of his voice, shifting their attention to him. He turned his body slightly, glancing over his shoulder toward the entrance.
“There’s a little boy coming here today, and he’s deaf,” Keith began, his voice measured and gentle. “I want you both to know how to say ‘hello’ when he gets here.”
“I’ll just say ‘hello,’” Paige muttered, shrugging as if it wasn’t a big deal.
Keith barely had time to respond before Constance stepped in. “Being deaf means he can’t hear you,” she explained patiently. “You have to say ‘hello’ differently.”
“Exactly,” Keith nodded in agreement, kneeling down in front of the kids so they could see him clearly. He wanted them to understand the importance of this, not just brush it off. “This is ‘ hello ,’” he said, moving his hand in an exaggerated, simple wave. “And this is ‘ how are you?’ ” He demonstrated the sign, dragging his thumbs over his chest in an alternating motion before pointing toward them.
Paige squinted at him. “Are you pulling my leg?”
Keith smirked but shook his head. “Nope.”
“How do you know this?”
“His daddy taught us a few things because he doesn’t want Stephen to feel left out,” Keith explained, his voice softening. “So, if you want to be friends with him, you do this.” He hooked his pointer fingers over each other, the sign for ‘ friend .’ “And if you want to ask him to play, you do this.” He held up both hands, pinkies and thumbs extended, twisting them outward in the familiar motion Coeur had shown him.
Paige hesitated for a moment before mimicking the gesture, her brows furrowing in concentration. “Like this?”
Keith watched her carefully, then nodded. “You got it.” A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “And I’ve got a secret surprise for you later.”
Paige’s head snapped up, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Tell me now.”
“Nahhh,” Keith teased, crossing his arms over his chest. “But I think you’ll like it.”
Paige groaned dramatically, throwing her hands in the air. “Then why say anything if you aren’t going to tell me?” She huffed, crossing her arms as she pouted.
Keith fought back a laugh, shaking his head.
“Because you’re too smart for your own good, and I need something to make sure you behave today for your mom.” His gaze flickered to Constance, who stood quietly, watching the interaction unfold. Her eyes widened slightly at his words, and for the first time all morning, he caught a glimpse of something other than the cool detachment she’d been giving him lately. A half-hearted smile ghosted across her lips, small but there. It wasn’t much, but it was better than the cold shoulder she’d given him this morning.
He’d take what he could get.
Keith let out a breath, feeling a tiny weight lift from his chest. “Now,” he said, rising to his feet and clapping his hands together. “I’m going to go greet the team as they come in. I’ll see you all in a bit, okay? Try to enjoy yourself, and I’ll be back shortly…”
He lingered just a second longer, eyes briefly locking with Constance’s before he turned away. He didn’t know if she’d noticed the way his voice had softened, how he was still trying, even when things between them felt tense and uncertain.
It felt like everything was coming together for his job, and falling apart at home because he was scared to make a move on his wife. Did she want him to move faster? Did she understand how difficult that was for him? Maybe they needed to talk – and maybe he just needed to let her in like when he’d admitted to his past so she would agree to marry him.
He leaned forward and kissed Constance lightly on the cheek, whispering to her, “Don’t give up on me…” and was surprised when she pulled back, looking at him, her blue eyes searching his.
“I’m not,” she whispered softly. “I promise I’m not.”
Keith nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat and moving away, going to take his place at the door with Coach Starnes – and saw Liam Savage had arrived too. Raising a hand, he waved in silent understanding at the other man who was watching him warily. It had to be hard to know you were made the captain because of your reputation – not your skills or ability to drive the team.
Probably just as hard as it was to give up the position of captain, because of your reputation, Keith thought silently and sighed. Savage wasn’t the enemy – and he could always use someone at his back.
“Captain,” Keith said solemnly, holding out his hand.
“Captain,” Savage chuckled, giving him a half smile as Keith rolled his eyes as the man hugged him easily, patting him on the back. Yeah, this was not a bad call, and Keith could be extremely patient for the attorney to work her magic on the ol’ Boucher name. “This is my wife, Ashley.”
“Nice to meet you,” Keith said politely, shaking her hand and turning to look for Constance’s blonde head. “That angel over there is my bride, Constance, and those are my two girls. I’m sure she’d love to meet you, Ashley.”
And he spotted Coeur walking up with his wife and their son, Stephen.
“Paige!” Keith hollered quickly as she ran over, dragging Kayla behind her. “Girls, remember to use your hands to say ‘ hello ,’” he quickly reminded them as Kayla tugged on his arm for a moment to be picked up – and then ran off again, laughing – but not Paige.
Nope. Never Paige… he thought.
“I’m not stupid, Keith ,” Paige retorted deliberately, eyeing him and giving the other adults the side-eye as their mouths dropped open. Instead of saying anything else to anyone, Paige signed to Stephen and then latched onto the smiling child, running off to join the others who were arriving.
“Keith?” Coeur asked, grinning.
“Shut up, Coeur,” Keith retorted easily to his longtime friend and teammate.
“That kid calls you by your first name?”
“Obviously, not everything has gone as smoothly for me as it has for you and your wife,” Keith said bluntly, his tone terse. “Mrs. Coeur, nice to see you again.”
“Hello, Mr. Boucher,” Irene began, and Coeur, ever the one to cut a joke or tease someone, rolled his eyes, laughed, and quickly corrected her.
“Apparently, you can just call him Keith.”
“She can,” Keith smirked and then pointed off in the distance. “The blonde woman holding the toddler – that’s my wife, Constance. She could use someone to talk to, especially a new friend who has a kid also. Obviously, my new stepdaughter has taken a shine to your son.”
“I could use a friend also,” Irene smiled gently, nodding. “While we were really lucky, maybe Constance could use someone to talk to – and don’t worry. You have my husband’s back on the ice, and I’ll have yours.”
As Irene walked off, Keith watched her go, staring at Constance and praying with all his might that whatever was wrong between them would be corrected soon. He wanted to kiss his wife so badly, and last night had been sheer torture holding back. How was he ever going to admit how infatuated he was with her? She would think he was weird if she knew that he watched her sleep last night, and that he bought things for the house because he had imagined her reaction, her smile.
Screw ‘ infatuated ’ – he was falling hard for his new wife and wished she felt the same.
“Coeur, you are one lucky cuss… and I hope your wife can work miracles cause I could use one in my life. The last thing I want is to ruin this because I think this is my last shot in the NHL, brother.”
I don’t have it in me to ever give up Constance or drag her through another exhausting move again – not when this has been so hard on her already , he thought guiltily. I need her to realize her home is here, with me, and that she didn’t marry some loser. I’m never leaving the team – and I don’t even care if I’m not the captain… because without her smile, I’m nothing.
He sighed heavily.
K eith stood beside Jett Acton and his wife, nodding absently as they made small talk. He smiled at something Jett said, though his mind wasn’t fully present. The gathering buzzed around them, the murmur of conversations blending with the sound of children laughing and playing tag in the distance. He wished, not for the first time that he was at the arena instead. There, things made sense. The ice was predictable. The rules were clear.
This? This was messy. Complicated.
And then, suddenly—contact.
A gentle hand landed on his back, warm and unexpected. A bolt of electricity shot straight up his spine, and before he could stop himself, he recoiled with a sharp jolt, his heart leaping into his throat. His pulse pounded in his ears as he spun, his body tensed for… what, exactly? An attack? The guys messing with him again?
But it wasn’t one of his teammates playing a prank.
It was Constance.
“Hey… you scared me,” he admitted, exhaling sharply, willing his pulse to steady. He chuckled to cover the moment, but beside him, Jett erupted into laughter.
“The guys mess around all the time, and?—”
“Can we talk?” Constance interrupted softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she slipped her fingers into his hand.
Keith barely registered Jett’s teasing “ Ooooh ” before she was pulling him away from the cluster of tables, and guiding him toward a quieter spot. He followed without hesitation, but with every step, his unease grew. The cool fluorescent lights above were casting a bluish tone to the open room as children wove between them, their carefree laughter a stark contrast to the tight knot forming in his chest.
He didn’t like this.
He didn’t like how serious she looked. How her eyes, always so full of warmth, now held frustration and something dangerously close to hurt.
“What is going on with you?” Constance asked, her voice laced with emotion. “I feel like a ping-pong ball. One minute, I think we’re okay, that we’re moving forward, and then the next, you shut down completely.”
Keith clenched his jaw, exhaling slowly. “You want to do this now ?”
“Don’t you think we should talk?”
“I do,” he admitted, shifting uncomfortably, his gaze flicking toward the crowd. “But there are over seventy people here, and there’s zero privacy.”
“You don’t need privacy remember,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.
His brows pulled together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you barely look at me,” she said, her voice tightening. “You sure don’t touch me. You barely kiss me. And?—”
“Oh, we are not doing this here,” Keith cut in, his voice low, edged with disbelief. He cast another wary glance around them, his skin prickling at the thought of an audience. “We should talk about this at home, where we have some privacy.”
Constance stilled, her expression shifting—hurt cracking through her carefully held composure.
“Do you even want me here?” she whispered, her voice so soft he almost missed it.
His chest tightened. “Con?—”
“You got your precious marriage license,” she continued, a flicker of anger threading through the pain. “You secured your job. You don’t want me, Keith. You and Paige are always sniping at each other, and you barely hold Kayla. You’re just… here. But you’re not with us. You’ve given us everything, the moon, the stars… but we are missing oxygen. We’re missing you , Keith.”
Her words struck deep, cutting through every excuse, every deflection. He swallowed hard, struggling to find the right response, something to ease the weight pressing against his ribs.
But there was only one truth.
“I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice hoarse, raw. “I’m scared, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”
Constance’s expression softened, but she didn’t speak. She just listened.
“I’ve barely been around kids, and now I have two who are looking at me like I’m supposed to know what the heck I’m doing,” he confessed, his hands flexing at his sides. “Kayla is a little version of you. Paige… she’s sharp. Smart. She’s aggressive, and I don’t know if I’m supposed to be her friend or her dad. I’m trying to figure this out, and I?—”
He stopped, his throat tightening as the words tangled together.
Constance’s eyes glistened, her lip trembling slightly as she pressed a hand to her chest as if steadying herself against the weight of what he was saying. He could see it—every unspoken fear, every insecurity mirrored in her gaze.
Keith exhaled shakily, dropping his head for a brief moment before meeting her eyes again.
“And on top of all that,” he murmured, “my wife is the hottest thing on the planet, and I don’t know how to tell her that I want her so badly it makes my chest ache.”
Constance blinked, startled.
“I want so much to tell you so many things,” he continued, no longer caring about the people around them. No longer caring if anyone overheard. “And I don’t know how. I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t want to drive you away, to move too fast, to…”
“You’re moving too slowly,” she interrupted, her voice thick with unshed tears. A weak, breathy laugh escaped her lips. “Speed it up, old man.”
Keith let out a rough chuckle, shaking his head. “Thirty-six isn’t old.” He reached out, brushing his fingers over her hand. “I might be a little older than you, but I promise, I’m not too old to learn how to be a husband. Or a father.”
Constance’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening around his. “Be you,” she whispered, searching his face. “Be yourself. And just be with me .”
His throat felt tight, but he nodded. “I will try.”
“No.” She shook her head, her hands sliding up to cradle his face. “I don’t want you to try . I want you there . Quit working everything out in your head and start listening to your heart.” She leaned in, her forehead almost touching his. “What is your heart telling you?”
Keith swallowed hard.
It was telling him what it had been telling him all along.
That he adored her. That he wanted this— her , their family, all of it. That he needed to stop letting fear keep him at a distance. That it was okay to make mistakes, not know what he was doing… so long as it was done with love, affection, and a sense of family between all of them. There would be no rejections, no repercussions, no penalties, so long as he tried.
“I’m here,” he whispered emotionally, looking at her eyes that held so much emotion. “I’m here for you, for them. I promise.”
“I believe you,” she replied tearfully. “You’ve done so much, giving us a castle in a foreign land… but I’m waiting for my prince to be by my side.”
“I am, I will,” he breathed, caressing her cheek. “Tonight, we’ll put the kids to bed, and it’s you and me. I want to talk, to explain, to hold you – but I desperately need us to be alone, please.”
“Done,” she said softly, rising up to kiss him – and she didn’t have to go far. He was already leaning in, brushing his lips against hers and treasuring the way she drew in her breath at the gentle touch.
“You’re my home and we’ll make this work,” he murmured softly against her lips, melting inwardly as the truth left him. “Constance – my home,” he stressed, repeating those words to her, hoping she understood what he was saying. “And they are my world – even if my new stepdaughter calls me Keith,” he teased, referring to Paige, and was rewarded with a soft laugh from his wife.
“Open up to her, and I bet things change.”
“On that note,” he chuckled, lacing his fingers with hers. “Come with me.”