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“He deserves this win,” Ava breathes, nervously flexing the fingers she has intertwined with mine.
“He’ll get it. There’s nobody else who could pull this off like Maddox. Goal or no goal,” I say.
“If he doesn’t, I’m sorry for the grumpy man you’re going to be going home with later, Brax,” Addie says, patting my lap sympathetically.
This time, a smile does crack through my tight facial muscles. What I have planned for tonight will put a smile on his face, regardless of if they do lose.
“I’m sure a few kisses from Hades will help. That sweet boy can heal all wounds,” Ava adds.
The Huttons love Hades and have all but adopted him into their family. He has a bigger family now than he could have ever dreamed of, and he’s doing so much better. The broken dog with a lifetime of scars has found happiness again, and I’m honoured to have a part in his journey.
“They made a decision,” Oakley says, and we all glance at the refs as they drop their tablet and headphones back behind the boards and skate back to centre ice.
The ref who originally made the no-goal call stares out at the crowd as he starts to speak into the small mic he’s wearing. “After review, the call on the ice stands. We have a no goal.”
The crowd starts to boo as his arms come out to his sides, forming a straight line across his body.
I find Maddox again, but this time, he’s already staring at me, his shoulders the slightest bit slouched, yet his mouth is turned up in a small smile. It’s a smile that says a thousand words—a way for him to show that win or lose, he’s leaving this arena happy. With a sense of accomplishment.
Tears of both pride and love burn my eyes when he pulls his glove off and touches his palm to his chest before bringing it out and pointing at me. Without hesitation, I kiss my fingers and point back.
“I love you,” he mouths.
“I love you more,” I mouth back.
A beaming grin, and then he’s putting his head back in the game, setting up on the Dallas blue line for a faceoff.
Two minutes later, he receives a quick pass from one of his teammates, finds an opening, and scores a goal no ref could possibly call off.
Then . . . then he wins his first Stanley Cup.
* * *
Our new homeis full of happy faces and a buzz in the air that I want to bottle up and keep forever.
The amazing family I married into chats among themselves in our living room, glasses of wine and beer bottles clinking as they give another congratulatory toast to my husband, and I join in with my non-alcoholic spritzer. The chest at my back is warm and inviting, and as I snuggle further into Maddox’s lap on my favourite cushy armchair, I let a sense of contentment wash over me.
The Bateman family is here too, and Jamieson and Oliver haven’t stopped teasing Maddox about the way he seems to track me wherever I go when I’m not with him. I think Maddox likes it, though, because he takes it on the chin every time, flashing smug grin after smug grin.
Even after Rose’s initial story about Maddox and me faking our relationship, we didn’t have many questions to answer from his family. We admitted that, at first, it was an agreement to help his image, but there wasn’t much convincing needed when it came to telling them that we were then very much real. According to his aunt Gracie, it was obvious from the start that agreement or not, it was absolutely real.
She’s always been a smart woman. Not much slips past her.
“Stop being so growly,” Tinsley scolds from the loveseat across from Dox and me, her words pointed at Noah.
I fight to keep the shock off my face at the total ease in her movements as she flicks him in the cheek and scowls at him. But it’s when he lays those dark eyes on her and bluntly apologizes that I lose that ability, my surprise obvious.
Maddox’s chest shakes with a silent laugh before he leans in and places his mouth at the shell of my ear.
“I know. It takes some getting used to seeing him like that.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him apologize to anyone,” I mutter.
Noah plants an inked arm on the back of the couch behind Tinsley, but he never so much as brushes a finger against her. The skull tattooed on his throat pulls as he swallows, and his eyes remain on the side of her face even after she’s turned back to the conversations around her.
“Is he really moving to Toronto?” I whisper, asking the question I’ve been rolling around in my head since I originally heard the news a few weeks back.
“Mmhmm. Took longer than we all thought it would. Her lease is up at the end of August, and they’re renting a place together. Poor girl has no idea what she’s signing up for.”
