My phone's buzzing when I get out of the shower. Three texts from Emma.
Emma
THAT WAS AMAZING.
Ethan keeps saying "Unca Jacky!" and pointing at the ice.
We're waiting by the family entrance.
I smile at that. My nephew is seventeen months old and already obsessed with hockey. Kid's got good taste. Emma brings him to every home game she can, which means I get to see his face light up every time I step on the ice.
Being an uncle is the best thing that's ever happened to me. Better than the captaincy, better than any goal I've ever scored. Watching Ethan grow up, being part of his life—it's the kind of thing that makes all the other bullshit worth it.
I take my time getting dressed: shirt, tie, suit jacket pulled on over muscles that are already protesting. The win feels good, but my body’s quick to remind me I’m not twenty-two anymore. My shoulder aches, and my jaw’s sore from clenching my mouthguard for sixty minutes. I pop two ibuprofen and cram my gear into my bag.
Chase finds me in the hallway outside the locker room.
"Em texted," he says. "Said she's got Ethan and she's ready to go."
"Yeah, I know." I swing my bag over my shoulder. "Good goal tonight."
"Good assist." He grins. "Though you could've passed it sooner. I was wide open for like three seconds."
"Three seconds in hockey time is half a second in real time."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Cap."
We head out through the family entrance. The air bites at my damp hair, but it feels good after the heat of the arena. The parking lot's mostly empty now, just a few stragglers loading gear into their cars, and a handful of fans hoping for autographs.
Emma's leaning against Chase's truck with Ethan on her hip. She's bundled in a Wolves hoodie, looking tired but happy. Nine weeks pregnant and already exhausted. She won't admit it, but I can see it in the way she's holding herself.
"There's my boys," she says when we approach.
"Unca Jacky!" Ethan reaches for me with both hands, and I take him easily. He's getting heavier every week, solid muscle and determination packed into a tiny body.
"Hey, buddy. Did you enjoy the game?"
"Hockey!" He smacks my chest with his little hand, eyes bright. "Go, go, go!"
Emma laughs. "That's all he's been saying since the second period. I think he's got your competitive streak."
"Poor kid." I ruffle his brown hair. He's got Chase's stubborn chin, but Emma's green eyes. "How're you feeling, Em?"
"Tired. Nauseous. The usual." She climbs into the passenger seat while Chase loads our gear into the truck bed. "But I wouldn't miss your games."
"You don't have to come to every one. You're pregnant."
"Nine weeks is nothing. I'll be fine." She buckles in, waving off my concern.
I slide into the back seat beside Ethan's car seat and buckle him in. The kid immediately starts babbling about the game, or what he thinks was the game. Most of it's unintelligible. Puck sounds like duck, goal comes out as go, but he's enthusiastic as hell.
Chase pulls out of the parking lot, and we fall into easy conversation. He asks about my shoulder. I ask about Emma's day. She complains about how some of her clothes don't fit anymore, even though she's not showing yet.
I've been staying in their renovated basement bedroom for about a month now. They've got another spare room upstairs, but I chose the basement. More privacy, my own space. I'm supposed to be looking for my own place, but I'm not in a rush.Plus, Emma likes having me around, and with her pregnant and Ethan being a handful most days, I can help out. It's a good setup.
The drive home takes twenty minutes because of some traffic. Ethan's half asleep by the time we turn onto our street, his head lolling against the car seat. I'm already thinking about my bed when Chase pulls up outside.
Then I see the car parked there.
