Page 71 of Trade It All

Jake sees them immediately. Everything about him softens. He drops his bag without a second thought and walks straight to them, his entire focus shifting in a way I don’t think he could control even if he tried.

He drops a kiss to Penelope's forehead and turns to his son. “Hey, buddy,” he murmurs, his voice dropping as he reaches for him.

Matty lifts his head just enough to see him, his face lighting up in that slow, sleepy way only a two-year-old can manage. “Dada…” It’s soft. Slurred with sleep. Perfect.

Jake lets out a quiet breath like that word hits him every single time, like it never gets old, as he takes him from Penelope and pulls him into his chest, holding him close while Matty immediately melts into him. And just like that—hockey doesn’t matter. Nothing else does. I feel my chest tighten watching it. Because that version of him?

That’s everything. But then—

“Deano!” The shout cuts through the moment. Paxton. “I got it!” He’s a few feet away, practically bouncing, a piece of paperwaving wildly in his hand like he can’t hold still long enough to keep it down.

I barely have time to turn before— “No shit!” Dean’s voice hits right behind me, loud and sharp and full of something I haven’t heard before, and I jump, my heart kicking as I realize how close he is.

But he’s already moving. Straight to Paxton.

“What?” Dean demands, but there’s already a grin breaking through, like he knows. Like he’s been waiting for this.

Paxton shoves the paper at him, barely able to get the words out fast enough. “AHL call-up. I’m going up.”

Everything stills for a second. And then Dean’s face—God. It changes. Pride hits first. Hard. Immediate. Like this matters to him just as much as it does to Paxton.

“Fuck, yes,” he says, grabbing the paper, scanning it like he needs to see it himself. “I knew it.”

Paxton laughs, running a hand through his hair, still buzzing, still not fully believing it. “I didn’t think it would happen this fast.”

“It was always going to be this fast,” Dean shoots back without hesitation, stepping in and gripping the back of his neck beforepulling him into a hug that’s solid and real. “You earned this.” Not luck. Not timing. Him. “You go up there and you don’t play small,” Dean continues, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. “You make them see exactly why you’re there.”

Paxton nods immediately, like there’s no world where he does anything else.

“Yes, Coach.”

Dean huffs, shaking his head with a small smirk. “Not Coach right now.”

That breaks the tension. Paxton laughs, loud and full, and I can’t stop watching them, the way Dean shows up like this, the way he makes moments bigger for the people around him. The way he cares.

“We’re going out,” Paxton announces suddenly, turning toward everyone like it’s already decided. “Nobody’s saying no.”

Penelope just smiles, shifting closer and wrapping one arm around her brother. “Whatever you want, Pax,” she says warmly. “You earned it.”

And standing here, watching all of it—Dean. Jake. The way this team isn’t just a team—My chest tightens again. Because I didn’t just fall for him. I fell for the man he is in every space. And somehow—that makes loving him feel even bigger than it already did.

The Reserve feels different tonight. It always has that low hum—the quiet clink of glasses, the soft music, the polished kind of atmosphere that makes everything feel a little more elevated than it should be—but tonight it’s louder. Fuller. Packed in a way that doesn’t leave space for anything except celebration.

Dean made one call. That’s all it took. One call, and suddenly the entire back room is ours. The team. Their wives. Girlfriends. Paxton’s friends spilling in like they don’t know what to do with all the excitement sitting under their skin. It’s chaotic in the best way, bodies pressed closer than usual, voices overlapping, laughter bouncing off the walls.

And right in the middle of it—him. I spot Dean across the room without even trying. He’s standing with Paxton, one hand wrapped around the back of his neck again like he’s said it a hundred times already and still means it just as much now as he did the first time. There’s a drink in his other hand, untouched, his attention completely locked on Paxton as he talks, as he listens, as he shows up.

That’s the thing about him. He doesn’t just say the right things. He makes people feel them. Paxton is still lit up, still riding that high, his grin wide and unfiltered in a way that makes it impossible not to feel it with him. Every few seconds someone else claps him on the back, pulls him into a hug, tells him how proud they are.

And Dean—Dean looks just as proud as anyone in this room. Maybe more. My chest tightens slightly as I watch it, that same feeling from earlier settling deeper now, warmer, heavier in the best way.

Because this is what I fell in love with. Not just the way he looks at me. But the way he is with everyone else.

“Hey.” Addy’s voice pulls me out of it as she steps up beside me, nudging my shoulder lightly. “You’ve been staring for like… five minutes.”

I blink, my lips pulling into a small smile as I glance at her. “I have not.”

She hums, clearly not believing me, her eyes already tracking across the room to where Dean stands. “Mhm.”