“We already are a real family,” I say, looking down at April and then back at Heather. “This just makes it official.”
Heather laughs and holds up her hand to look at the ring. “It’s beautiful. Grant, it’s perfect.”
“You’re perfect.”
She kisses me again, quick and soft. “I love you.”
“I love you too. Both of you.” I pull April into the hug, and we stand there in the nursery, surrounded by the promise of everything we’re going to build together.
This is my family.
And I’m never letting go.
Chapter 49
Heather
The arena is packed with Aces fans tonight, and the energy is electric. It’s the first playoff game of the season, and everyone knows what’s at stake.
I settle into my seat with April beside me, both of us wearing our matching jerseys with Grant’s number on the back. Mine stretches over my growing bump, which is pretty prominent now at seven months along. April’s is slightly too big, but she insisted on wearing it anyway.
“I lost track of him, Mom. Where did he go?” April leans forward, scanning the ice.
“He’s right there, sweetheart.” I point to the goal where Grant is warming up, stretching and moving through his pre-game routine.
Even from here, I can see the intensity on his face. The focus. The way he moves with such precision and purpose.
Then he does it. Taps his stick against the goal post. Once, twice, three times, and then a fourth.
My heart squeezes.
He started doing four taps instead of three after we found out about the baby. He said he does one for each of us—him, me, April, and the little bean growing inside me. It’s such a smallthing, but it means everything. It makes me feel like I’m right there with him on the ice, in his heart, just like he’s always in mine.
“He did the taps!” April claps her hands and grins. “Four taps for our family!”
“I saw.” I smile and rest my hand on my bump. “The baby is cheering too.”
April leans close to my stomach and cups a hand near her mouth. “You hear that, baby? Grant’s gonna win this game for us!”
A few months ago, Grant took me to visit his parents’ grave. It was a quiet, overcast day, and he held my hand the entire drive there. When we arrived, he knelt down and introduced me to them like they were still there, listening to every word.
“Mom, Dad, this is Heather,” he said. “She’s the woman I’m going to marry. The woman who changed everything for me.”
I cried that day, and I start tearing up again every time I think about it. And then he told me something I’ll never forget.
“I know my purpose now,” he said, looking up at me with those intense eyes. “It’s not just hockey. It never was. It’s you. It’s April. It’s our family. Hockey is just a piece of that. A piece I love, but still just a piece.”
I think about that now as I watch him take his position in front of the goal. He’s not just playing for himself tonight. He’s playing for all of us.
The announcer’s voice booms through the arena, introducing the starting lineups. The crowd roars when Grant’s name is called, and April screams louder than anyone around us.
“That’s my Grant!” she yells. “That’s my family!”
I laugh and pull her close, kissing the top of her head. “That’s right, sweetheart. That’s our family.”
The puck drops, and the game begins.
It’s fast and intense from the first second. The opposing team comes out aggressively, testing Grant early with a round of back-to-back shots. But he’s ready. He stops every single one with his signature sharp, controlled movements.
