I was still wearing my practice jersey with my number on it which might have been the first thing our son saw.
I climbed into bed beside Stan as our son suckled. Our little boy made adorable baby sounds as he sucked.
We were a family and Stan and I were dads. Everything that mattered was right here beside me.
EPILOGUE
STAN
5 years later
“Olive, wave to your brother.”
My daughter lifted her chubby little three-year-old hands and waved as he came on the ice. “Ross! Ross!” she called to her now five-year-old brother.
He went to wave back, hit his helmet cage with his stick, and gave up and went back to skating.
“Let’s go and get to our seats, honey.” I’d been careful not to get to our seats too early. Olive had the attention span of a preschool-age shifter, and I was at the stage of my pregnancy where my back rebelled if I sat on these benches too long.
I led her to our spot, waddling down the steps and across the bench. The awkwardness of navigating the stands reminded me of when I was pregnant with Olive and had watched my mate shoot the winning score for the team during the championships. At the time, I had been wondering if I was ever going to have the baby. I felt so huge.
This time, I was quietly hoping our twins would stay inside just a little bit longer. Because being a dad of two wasn’t easy. I loved it, but there were days when all I wanted was a long hot shower… alone. Being a dad of four? That was gonna be a whole new game, one I was excited for but also a little bit nervous about. If I didn’t have a mate like Axel and a pack like ours, I’d probably be in stress overload by now.
There were two omegas in our pack who were just about ready to meet their pups. My hope was that, as Healer, I could help them bring their babies into the world before I had my own.
I’d only taken the title officially six months ago when the healer who trained me decided to move to a much warmer climate and retire. I was sad to see him go. He was such a huge part of the pack, but I understood why a new location was better for him. Healer was more than a job, and shutting that off while staying put would be extremely challenging.
I handed Olive her fishie crackers and focused on the rink. Ross was warming up for his first “real” game now that he was in his “big boy” league. His father was an assistant coach as his own career allowed, and watching the two of them at practices warmed my heart. I always knew that Axel would be an amazing father, but seeing it in action was everything.
Olive loved watching her brother play and said she was going to be a “big star” like him when she got older. He was far from a star. He was a little kid having a blast, which was really what it was all about. Ross skated pretty well for his age but was still kind of wobbly when he had gear on and a stick in his hand.
“Look, it’s time!” I said.
Axel went to the center of the ice, the entire team behind him, and then led them all in one huge circle around the rink before finding their spots on the bench just below us. I wasthatdad, the one who needed to be close to the action. The opposing team was already on their team bench waiting for the game to start. Both teams shared the same ice for practice, just at a different time. This wasn’t a high competition or high-stress game. It was meant to be fun and practice.
A few minutes later, it was time for them to start.
I had cuteness overload watching them.
The kids had on their oversized jerseys and held the most adorable sticks. Most were still just trying to get used to the ice. Thank goodness for the running clock. If they had to stop every time a whistle blew, we’d be here for three years.
Axel told them to have fun, skate hard, and listen for that whistle. I ventured to guess most of them would have fun, and they were gonna skate as hard as they could, but actually paying attention to that whistle? They were five. Good luck with that.
With everybody in place, it was time to start. The puck was dropped, and every single child on the ice, including one of the goalies, rushed to get it. If any puck got in any net today, it was going to be an accident.
Ross worked really hard skating, keeping his stick where it needed to be so he didn’t trip over it, but he had a habit of watching his feet. Today was no exception. There were a few times he got knocked over, not because of aggression but because he didn’t see that he was going straight into someone else.
The one time the puck did come close enough to him, he swung like he meant business, missed it, and ended up going in the wrong direction. It was absolutely adorable. To no one’s surprise, there was no scoring in the first period.
The second period brought more of the same. What I loved about this particular league and these parents was that no one was shouting at the kids or the coaches when things went “wrong.” I heard people shouting encouragement at the ones who fell and got back up and those who swung and missed, from both sides. This was how to get kids to love a sport and be respectful. It wasn’t about the winning, which was good, because when the third period ended, there was a tie, reminding me once again how fabulous the running clock was.
All the players cheered and high-fived each other before heading back to the changing room. Olive and I waited for them to come out, and Ross was all smiles when he saw us.
“I thought we were gonna win a big cup like Daddy, but you know what we did? We tied!” He was so enthusiastic, and I loved how he thought a tie was the best thing ever. That would change quickly enough, but for now, it was precious and perfect.
My phone rang. I used to ignore it, but since becoming Healer of our pack, I always had to at least check who it was, just in case it was an emergency. And when I pulled it out, sure enough, it was a very pregnant omega from our pack.
“I think this is it. I think they’re coming.”
