Now here I am, with a different kind of family, one I found.
I still got cracks. Still got scars. But Connor fills them, makes them bearable.
Because he’s mine.
Chapter 34
Connor
5 months later
Third period. Eight fucking minutes left. And we're down by two.
The Enterprise Center's packed with eighteen thousand screaming people, half of them here to watch us lose our championship.
Not happening. Not fucking happening.
Western Michigan's been cycling the puck in our zone for the last minute, and my thighs are on fire. I’ve been on the ice way too fucking long. Need the goddamn whistle to blow.
Their center fires from the point. Viktor kicks out his right pad, and I'm already moving before the rebound even settles. Their winger gets there first, takes a wrist shot, but Viktor sprawls like the beautiful bastard he is, smothering the puck.
Whistle.
Fucking finally.
I hop over the boards and take my spot on the bench, grabbing water. Jenkins sits next to me. Game’s been fucking brutal. No matter what we do, Western Michigan answers right back.
“Good fucking job out there, Henneman,” Nieminen says.
Ryan smirks at our coach. “Which one?”
I snort. “Fucking smart ass.”
My husband winks at me, then drops onto the bench beside Zach.
Nieminen stares at Ryan, lips pressed into a tight line. “I wasn’t talking to your husband. Not when we’re still down by two.”
Coach can fuck right off. I’m not the only one on the team who can score. But I don't want to lose this game —not when it's my last. No fucking way I’m ending my hockey career losing the championship.
Jenkins puts his water back on the shelf, shaking his head. “Still weird as fuck that you both have the same name now.”
“Don’t give a fuck what you think.”
The Walsh name can rot in hell with my dead parents.
Out on the ice, our second line's getting hemmed in our zone. Can't get a clean breakout.
Jenkins leans forward on the bench. “Their fucking left winger keeps cheating up. See him?”
I track the player who’s already at our blue line, waiting to pick off a pass. “He's been doing that shit all game.”
Our defenseman tries to rim it around the boards but Western Michigan's winger intercepts. Exactly like I knew he would.
Jenkins spits on the floor. “Someone needs to put him on his ass.”
“Knight will handle it next shift.”
“Why not your husband? He’s been a fucking beast out there all game.”
