Page 55 of Puck, Marry, Thrill

He gave her a look, a pleading one this time. “Could you maybe talk to Karen and get her to open up and talk to you? Or maybe we can help from behind the scenes…?”

Jamie hesitated. “Getting involved can cause problems,” she warned. But then her smile softened. “But yes. I’ll invite Karen to coffee and see if she needs a shoulder to cry on.”

Relief washed through him. He exhaled deeply. “Thank you,” he said, and meant it.

Jamie gave his hand a squeeze. “Now,” she grinned, eyes dancing again, “can we talk about something else? Somethingromantic?”

Kenneth arched a brow. “Depends what you’ve got in mind.”

“I got some great shots of everyone on the ice tonight,” she said proudly, “and anintenseone of you that I sent off to get blown up to an 8x10. I want it on the wall—right next to a photo of you holding the Stanley Cup when you guys win it.”

He laughed—genuine and full—and the tight knot in his chest finally started to ease. Her laughter joined his, and in that moment, everything felt a little lighter. A little more possible.

“You’re the best,” he murmured, pulling her in.

“I know,” she said with a smirk, melting into his arms like she was made for them.

14

JAMIE

Jamie sat curledbeneath the wide, arching branches of the ‘reading tree’ in the corner of what they fondly called the “cool room,” though it had turned into something far more sacred over the months. She hung a string of fairy lights in the tree last week, and those lights twinkled overhead, soft and golden, casting halos of warmth around the quiet room. It smelled faintly of pine and cinnamon from a candle she'd lit earlier in the day, trying to bring comfort to a hard afternoon.

Zachary was nestled in her lap, his little body curled tight against her chest as if seeking solace from the ache of the fever that flushed his cheeks a bright, worrisome pink. His small fingers had found their way into his mouth again, and he chewed on them absentmindedly, the way he always did when he was fighting something—illness or fear or confusion. Today, it was the first, and her heart ached for him.

She had read three picture books aloud already, her voice soft and melodic, coaxing sleep to find the little boy who called her “Jamie” in a tone that always held a piece of her heart. She’d stopped when his breathing evened out, folding the latest book shut with a quiet whisper of pages. Now she rocked gently, cradling him as his warm cheek pressed into her collarbone.

She loved this boy. Fiercely. Maybe more than she’d ever thought possible for someone who hadn’t come from her body. But he’d been sewn into her soul from the moment she met him.

Kenneth’s ex had texted earlier that week, asking for money again. Not once asking about Zachary, not a single word of concern for her son’s well-being or whether he was happy. Jamie hadn’t said anything at first—just stared at the text on Kenneth’s phone when it buzzed on the counter while she had cooked dinner that afternoon and tried not to cry. She hated that woman for what shedidn’tdo and for how little she seemed to care. And she hated that Kenneth had to carry that kind of heartache around, knowing his child came second to someone who should’ve put him first.

She’d sent Kenneth a message to let him know about the fever. He hadn’t replied, but that was fine—he was at practice. He would read it later. And knowing Kenneth, he’d come straight home, and he’d care. That’s who he was.

She heard the garage door close and felt her body tense ever so slightly, then exhale in relief. Her arms tightened around Zachary instinctively. The little boy stirred slightly in her lap but didn’t wake. He needed the rest to fight his fever. She kissed his forehead, feeling the heat of his fever still lingering, and whispered a silent prayer the Tylenol would work soon.

“Jamie? Zachary?” Kenneth’s voice floated in from the entryway, just as warm and solid as the man himself.

“We’re in here,” she called out quietly, her voice barely above a whisper so as not to disturb the child she held.

Kenneth stepped into the room, and Jamie looked up at the man she loved. He was still in his practice gear, sweaty and flushed from effort, but the moment his eyes landed on Zachary nestled in her arms, all the tiredness on his face shifted into concern.

“What’s going on?” he asked, already coming closer.

“Zachary’s got a fever and not feeling good,” she replied softly.

Kenneth’s brow furrowed as he knelt beside them, brushing the back of his hand against his son’s forehead.

“Aww, poor guy,” he murmured. “He’s a little warm.”

“He’s running a fever of one hundred. I gave him some Tylenol, and he should be feeling better soon. If it goes up, I’ll take him to the pediatrician tomorrow.”

Kenneth sat down beside her, and something in Jamie melted. He didn’t go off to shower. Didn’t brush it off or make light of the moment. He sat there, present, grounded, choosingthem. Choosingher. And in that moment, her heart swelled so painfully she thought it might burst.

She turned her head to look at him, her lips curving into a tender smile. “I love you,” she said softly, her eyes lingering on the way he watched Zachary, the way his hand rested gently on the boy’s shirt-covered back. “I know there’s nothing sexy about this, but it means the world to me to have you here – with us.”

“I hope you know not everything has to be about what we do together alone,” Kenneth said, his voice low and earnest. “This, having you here, being a part of my life, our lives, is more special than anything. If we never…”

“Boy, bite your tongue,” she interrupted, flashing him a warning look that made them both chuckle. The sound was soft, almost reverent in the quiet room.

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