“Well, you’re not off to a very banging start with that request. Nobody says hip anymore.”

  “Or cool for that matter.”

  She waves her hand. “Stop picking on Nana and just tell me the story of how you two met. Don’t leave out a single detail either.”

  Much to my dismay, he doesn’t.

  Not a single one.

  By the time he’s finished regaling her with the tale of how we met, everyone—Ryan, Rhodes, Miller, Emilia, and Smith—has arrived for dinner.

  My mother stays quiet through the whole thing, not letting out a single peep. Then, when he’s finally finished embarrassing me in front of everybody, she looks over at me and says, “Did you throw that punch like your daddy taught you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She nods once. “Good girl. Now let’s eat.”

  Dinner is finished, most of the mess is cleaned up, and leftovers—what little there are with several hockey players here—are put away. Harper and I are standing side by side at the kitchen sink washing dishes.

  Lowell has come in here no less than four times trying to get me to go in there and sit down while he does the dishes, but I keep shoving him out of the kitchen and back to the giant sunroom everyone is crowded in.

  “So,” Harper starts, bumping her shoulder into mine, “how was your last kid-free Christmas?”

  “You mean other than Lowell telling our mother how I punched him?”

  She laughs, nodding. “Yes, other than that.”

  I grin too. “It was nice. Quiet. Even with Miller here.”

  I scrub my brush over the dirty pan, mulling over what she just asked me. This was my last kid-free Christmas, and that’s something that didn’t even cross my mind until Harper brought it up. I’ve also now had my last kid-free Halloween and my last kid-free Thanksgiving.

  I guess I just never really thought about all the ways those holidays are going to change for me from now on. I wonder if it’s something Lowell’s thought about.

  “How are things going with him?” I glance over at her. “Lowell, I mean. I assume from that dopey grin on your face, that’s who you’re thinking of.”

  “It wasn’t a dopey grin.”

  “Oh, it totally was. It’s very obvious you two are smitten with each other.”

  I decide to ignore that. “Things with Lowell are fine. I think we’re both starting to really get excited about the baby.”

  “And is everything else fine?” She bounces her brows up and down.

  “Very subtle.” I laugh. “Everything is…nice.”

  “Like nice or”—she humps the air—“nice?”

  I laugh. “The second one.”

  “Yeah?” She bumps my shoulder again. “Good. I like Lowell.”

  “I like him too.”

  “Like like him?”

  “What is this, middle school?”

  “Sometimes it feels like it.”

  “That’s fair. And like like. I think.”

  “You think?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I just got divorced, Harper. It’s…well, it’s sort of complicated, you know.”

  She frowns. “Wow. I kind of forgot about that.”

  “I didn’t.”

  She chuckles. “In that case, just be careful, you know? Nice is…well, nice and all, but broken hearts suck.”

  “So much,” I agree. “But I’ll be careful.”

  “Good. Because I’d hate to have to help Collin bury his captain’s body.” She shakes her head. “I still cannot believe you’re having a baby with a hockey player.”

  “I still cannot believe you’re married to a hockey player.” I wave my hand around the kitchen. “I mean, look at this… Your whole life has changed.”

  Now she’s the one with a dopey grin on her face. “I know. And just think, if I actually had hit him with my car, none of this would have happened.”

  “It is really concerning how bad at night driving you are.”

  “It’s concerning how bad she is at driving in general,” Ryan says, bounding into the room with Emilia and my mother hot on her heels. “One time in college, she ran over her curb so bad she bent the rim and we had to get it towed. But don’t worry, she drove on it like that for three days before she had it fixed because she couldn’t tell the difference between her bad driving and a bent rim.”

  My mother’s mouth drops open. “Harper Dolores Kelly!”

  “I think you mean Harper Dolores Wright.” My sister grins proudly.

  Sometimes with everything crazy that’s been going on in my life lately, I forget she and Collin are still firmly in their honeymoon phase.

  I try to think back on my honeymoon phase with Thad, but I can’t remember a time when I ever looked as happy as Harper looks right now. If I’m being completely honest with myself, whatever is going on with Lowell is probably the happiest I’ve been in years.

  Which is really damn sad when you think about it.

  “So, Mother,” Harper starts, and the way she says it not-so-nonchalantly has me concerned that I’m not going to like whatever she is about to say. “Now that the guys are in the other room and we can gab without them eavesdropping, what did you think of Lowell?”

  I shoot my sister a glare. Traitor.

  “You mean other than the ass on him?”

  “Mother!” I drop the plate I’m holding in the sink, water and bubbles splashing everywhere.

  “What? I have eyes, so you can’t really blame me. You girls keep bringing around all these hockey players, and everybody knows hockey players have cute butts.”

  “It’s true. I’m pretty sure there was a study done on it or something.”

  “Yeah. It’s just science at this point,” Ryan agrees with Emilia.

  “I’m like ninety-nine point nine percent sure that’s not at all how science works.”

  “How come nobody knows how science works?” I mutter.

  “Anyway,” my mother says, ignoring me, “I think he’s a catch.”

  “A catch? Nobody says that anymore.”

  “First I can’t say cool or hip, and now I can’t say catch?”

  Ryan pats her arm. “Don’t worry, Evelyn. My grams is very up to date on all the hottest lingo. She can fill you in on what’s in these days.”

  “I would love that. Us grandmothers have to stick together.”

  I don’t tell her Ryan’s grandmother is definitely too old for some of the things that come out of her mouth. I’ve only met her once at Harper and Collin’s wedding, and the way that woman was flirting with some of the guys from the team, I was surprised she didn’t ask Miller to go home with her. I was also glad, because he might actually have done it.

  “Well, since I can’t say he’s a catch, can I say that…” A slow, saccharine grin pulls across her lips. “I like him. I really, really like him. And he is going to be an amazing father to your baby, Hollis.”

  It’s probably just the hormones—definitely 100% just the hormones—but my mother’s words have tears pooling in my eyes in an instant. I don’t think I realized how badly I wanted my mother to approve of the father of my baby.

  “Honestly?” She lifts a shoulder. “I’m just glad it’s not Thad. That man was a total douchebag. I can still say that, right?”

  “Oh my gosh, thank you!” Emilia agrees. “I have been saying that for years! He gave me such bad vibes.”

  “He really did. He reminded me of your father, actually.”

  My mouth slackens. “I had no idea that was how you thought about him, Mom.”

  “I didn’t want to say anything because I knew how much you loved him, and you seemed happy. I thought maybe it was just my own insecurities about my marriage falling apart, and I didn’t think it would be fair to put that on your relationship. In the end, it turned out I was right, and that’s the last thing I ever wanted.” She looks between Harper and me. “I know you girls think I’m overprotective and all I want to do is smother you, and while that may be partially true, I do it because I love you more than anything and I only want what’s good for you.” She looks pointedly at my belly. “I hope you’ll understand that soon too.”

  I will. I already do.

  “I can tell your man out there with the cute butt does.”

  She winks, and we all laugh, the tension in the room breaking.

  “All right, who is in here talking about my cute butt again?” Collin says as he swaggers into the kitchen, followed closely by the rest of the guys.

  “Just because someone mentions a nice butt, doesn’t mean they are talking about yours.” Harper pats his cheek.

  He snorts. “Right. Sure.”

  “They could be talking about mine.” Miller turns around, jutting his backside out for all to see.

  “I can assure you, it was not your ass,” Emilia deadpans.

  I don’t miss the way Smith’s eyes narrow when Emilia looks at Miller’s ass. Much like he did at Harper and Collin’s wedding, he catches me staring at him and flicks his gaze away.

  Interesting…

  “Rude.” Miller glares. “I think for that, you owe me a present.”

  “Is that your way of asking if we can do gifts now?” Harper asks.

  He folds his hands under his chin. “Please, Mom?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Fine, let’s go. Everyone to the big room.”

  She waves everyone that way, and they all file out until it’s just Lowell and me. He wraps his arms around my waist just as I’m drying my hands on the dish towel, and I smile down at the sight, admiring the way his fingers are splayed out over my bump.

  “You up for staying around for gifts?” He presses a kiss into my neck. “I know you weren’t feeling well earlier.”

  My doctor isn’t too worried about it as long as I keep hydrated, but I’m still having lots of nausea and am throwing up a few times a week. Parts of me want to hurry this pregnancy along so I don’t have to deal with it anymore, but a large part of me wants it to slow down too. It’s going too fast, and I admit that I’m a little scared of what’s to come next.

  “I’m good if you’re good.”

  “I am.” I turn in his arms. “Besides, I got you something I think you’ll like.”

  “Oh, are we doing presents?”

  Panic shoots through me. Crap. I didn’t even think to ask. I know we’re not together, but I just assumed it would be good for me to get the father of my baby a Christmas gift. Is that going too far?

  He laughs. “I’m kidding. We’re doing presents. You should see your face.”

  “You’re mean.” I pinch his sides, and he yelps.

  “Hey! Be nice. Coach will have your ass if you go damaging this body.”

  “I’m not scared of Coach.”

  “You should be. He’s little but mean.”

  “I’m little but mean.”

  “True, but you won’t hurt me.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Nah. I’m too much of a catch for you to do that.”

  I gasp. “You heard that?”

  “I will neither confirm nor deny that all of us guys were standing around the corner listening in.”

  “Cameron!” I hiss. “That’s awful!”

  He shrugs. “It’s good for our ego.”

  “Yeah, because everyone’s talking about your nice butts.”

  “I don’t hear you complaining about my nice butt.”

  “Eh. It’s okay.”

  “Okay?” He looks offended. “Just okay?”

  “Yep.” I grab his hand, tugging him toward where I can already hear Miller getting into the gifts. “Now come on. Let’s open presents so we can go home and you can touch my butt.”

  His brows rise. “Like really, really touch your butt?”

  “Depends on how fast we get these gifts opened.”

  Then he’s the one tugging me out of the room.

  19

  LOWELL

  They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. I don’t know who the fuck they were, but they were right.

  We are currently on a six-game road trip with a four-game losing streak. I miss my bed. I miss Hollis’ bed. I miss having Hollis near me in my bed.

  But most of all? Most of all I miss our baby.

  “Well, that was a shit show.” Collin drops onto the bench next to me, popping his gear off with all the frustration I feel too. “We fucking sucked out there.”

  I’m supposed to be the team captain. I’m supposed to come back with the rally in response and get us motivated to get out of this slump, supposed to get us ready and get us out there to win the next game.

  But right now, I agree. We fucking sucked out there. We knew it. The crowd knew it. The other team knew it. Everybody knew it. We were not playing like the Cup-winning champions I know we can be, and it was frustratingly embarrassing.

  I wish we were at home right now. If I’m playing shit hockey, I’d rather play shit hockey at home so at least I can go back home to Hollis.

  We need to get our heads out of our asses and get those points back. We’re at too crucial of a point in the season to be letting everything slip away like this.

  “Fuck,” Miller groans, plopping down on the other side of me. “How is it we played that bad and I’m this tired?”

  I shrug. “Being away from home sucks.”

  “You got that right. I don’t know how you guys do it, being away from your women all the time.” He bumps his shoulder against mine. “Pretty soon you’ll be away from your woman and your kid.”

  “She’s not my woman.”

  He sends me an incredulous look. “Dude, pretty sure she’s your woman. You’re having a kid with her.”

  “So?”

  “So, that makes her yours.”

  “Nah. People co-parent all the time.”

  “Yeah, but do other people sleep together and co-parent? Oh, wait. That’s not called co-parenting—that’s called a relationship,” Rhodes says from across the room, lifting a brow.

  “Hey, now,” Collin chimes in. “Don’t go saying the R-word around Lowell. We all know he’ll run and hide.”

  I look across the way to Smith, expecting him to back me up, but I don’t find a sympathetic look on his face. If anything, he looks like he agrees with the Three Stooges over here.

  It annoys me that he agrees. Out of everybody in this room, Smith should know how I feel. He’s been married to the game longer than I have. Hell, he’s the one who taught me to shut my feelings off and just play.

  That’s what I’m doing. I’m shutting down and shutting out everything else. I’m playing—albeit horribly—but I’m focusing on hockey and the baby. I’m not thinking about Hollis or how she has the power to crush my heart. I’m not thinking about that at all.

  “Shut up,” I grumble to all of them. “Get dressed. We have a plane to catch.”

  “Oooh, someone’s eager to get home to his woman,” Miller taunts.

  “I just want you to know, Miller, when he clocks you, I’m going to laugh and laugh and laugh,” Rhodes says.

  “I will also laugh. And possibly hold you down.”

  “Hey!” Miller shoots daggers at Collin. “What did I ever do to you?”

  “Exist.”

  “Is this a normal occurrence in your life?” Miller leans into me, keeping his voice low as he stares out at the scene in front of us. “Because this is kind of making me uncomfortable.”

  I know what he means. I get uncomfortable dealing with it too.

  “Yeah. Happens a few times a week. But…” I lift a shoulder. “It’s worth it. I hope.”

  Hollis is currently holding up a baby outfit that has giraffes on it and sobbing. It’s the crying that’s making Miller uncomfortable.

  He grins. “Yeah, it’s worth it. I never thought I’d be into pregnant chicks, but Hollis looks hot all knocked up.”

  I turn toward him with a glare that has him cowering back and holding his hands up.

  “Hey, now…I didn’t mean anything by it. I just m-meant that, uh, um…”

  “Miller?” I clench and unclench my fists, trying to talk myself out of punching the guy at our baby shower.

  “Yeah?”

  “Go. Away.”

  “Roger that.”

  He runs away faster than I’ve ever seen him move on the ice, and that’s saying something because the kid is fast as fuck on skates.

  “Those are some rather territorial vibes you’re giving off about somebody you’re not even dating.” Smith sidles up next to me, a glass of whiskey in his hand. “Because you’re allegedly still not dating, right?”

  I ignore him, staring back out at Hollis, watching as she tosses her head back and laughs, wiping away her tears. Harper and Emilia are sitting on either side of her, Ryan on the floor with a pad of paper in her lap, jotting down notes for thank-you cards later.

  My house isn’t sprawling big or anything, but I have a lot of room, especially compared to Hollis’ apartment. Though with the mountain of gifts surrounding her, I have no idea where I’m going to put it all.

  Even though our schedule is exhausting and I’m pretty sure they’d all rather be somewhere else on their off day, the team showed up to support us in droves. Nearly every single member from our roster is here, and Coach Heller is over in the corner enjoying the finger foods with his wife. Hell, even our goalie, who is notorious for not liking kids, is here.

  Not that I would ever admit it to any of these bastards, but it feels good to know they care about us enough to be here today. I know Hollis appreciates the support too.

  She looks at me from across the room, and her face lights up the moment our eyes connect. She looks happy, so damn happy. It’s such a shift from the mascara-stained crazy woman I met last summer.

  Craziest part is I’d take her both ways.

  “Come on, man. You can’t really tell me you’re not dating—not when you’re looking at her like that.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s nothing going on.”

  It’s a lie.

  We both know it’s a lie.

  I hate that we both know it just as much as I hate the look he’s giving me right now.

 

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