Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“Wait. Our Laiken?” Callie demands, her voice pitched somewhere between surprise and excitement.
“Yeah,” I say with a wince. “That Laiken.”
Rina’s eyes narrow like she’s trying to solve a puzzle. “How the hell did that happen?”
“I’m more interested in when it started,” Lilah says, tightening her grip on my hand.
Sloane wipes the last dribble of coffee from her chin. “I feel like I missed a few episodes of a show and now I’m totally lost. Can we rewind and start from the beginning?”
“He asked me yesterday,” I say.
Which is technically true.
Lilah’s brows shoot up. “That’s… um, fast.”
“I know,” I admit. “And I realize how it looks. All I can say is that it feels right. There’s no other way to explain it.”
The words land differently here than they did with Laiken. Saying yes to him felt instinctive. Private. Like something I could tuck between us and keep safe from the outside world. Saying it out loud here makes it real in a way I can’t take back. Like I’ve stepped over a line and there’s no retreating.
Lilah studies me for a long moment before nodding. “I get that, and I couldn’t be happier for you. He’s a good man.”
I smile. “He is.”
“What about Oliver?” Callie asks gently. “Does he know yet?”
My stomach dips at the mention of my brother. “No,” I admit. “I still need to talk to him. About everything. So, if you wouldn’t mind keeping this to yourselves for the time being, I’d really appreciate that.”
The table goes quiet again, the weight of it settling over us.
Rina’s hand tightens around mine. “Just remember that your brother loves you,” she says. “I’m sure he’ll need a minute to wrap his head around all of this, but he’ll get there. And if you want, I’ll be there when you break the news.”
When emotion pricks my eyes, I blink hard before nodding. “Thank you, I’d like that.”
Lilah glances around the table. “Well, that officially makes three of us pregnant.”
As soon as her gaze settles on Callie and Sloane, color blooms in Callie’s cheeks.
With a shake of her head, she laughs. “Trust me, River is working on it. Like every day.”
Sloane snorts. “Unless immaculate conception is a viable option, you can count me out for the foreseeable future.”
The table erupts in laughter. It’s the kind that spills over before chasing away any lingering tension. Callie laughs so hard she has to wipe her eyes as she tries and fails to regain control.
As the conversation shifts to Lilah’s and Rina’s pregnancies, stories and jokes weave together easily. I wrap my hands around my mug, allowing the warmth to seep into my palms.
It catches me off guard to realize I feel steadier than I have in a long time. Not because everything is solved or neatly tied up with a bow. There are still conversations I’m dreading, decisions I haven’t fully made peace with, a future unfolding faster than I ever anticipated. But sitting here, wrapped in laughter and the comfort of familiarity, the weight of it all feels lighter. I’m no longer bracing for impact or feel like I’m suffocating.
Part of that steadiness comes from this group of women and the way they didn’t flinch when I told them about the baby and the marriage. Instead of questioning my decision, they closed ranks without hesitation.
They didn’t ask for explanations or justifications.
They just welcomed me in.
And it’s exactly what I needed.
34
Laiken
The first shot of the morning slams into my blocker hard enough that the sting can be felt straight through the padding.
Good. I’m ready for it. I like it when the guys come in hot. It keeps me sharp. At this level, there’s no easing into practice. You either show up ready or you get cut.
“Rebound!” Knox yells as the puck ricochets off my arm and skitters loose across the crease.
River swoops in fast, going for it. I drop, seal the ice, and angle my pad just in time to knock it away before resetting my stance. Muscle memory and instinct take over. There aren’t any wasted movements.
The whistle blows in my head even if Coach hasn’t sounded it yet.
Steele crashes the crease next. There’s no chirping or hesitation from him. He barrels through traffic, firing off a quick shot before peeling off without waiting around to see the result.
“Nice one, Cap,” Jax calls out.
Steele grins as he circles back toward the boards. “Someone’s gotta keep the old man awake.”
Laughter echoes through the rink, bouncing off the empty seats as sticks scrape the ice and pucks slap against pads and boards. The familiar rhythm of practice settles in. There’s the noise, the constant pressure, and the relentless scramble to dominate.
For a few minutes, I almost forget about my plan to pull Oliver aside.
Almost, but not quite.
Coach’s whistle shrieks through the arena. “Last set! Let’s go!”
The drill kicks up another notch. Pucks come from everywhere—high glove, low blocker, tipped shots through traffic. River plants himself in front of the net, taking cross-checks and slashes like it’s nothing, absorbing punishment without complaint. Zane chirps nonstop. Steele snaps a shot that forces me to track it late and fight for the save as Oliver glides into the circle with that lazy confidence he wears like a second skin.