Page 72 of One Pucking Life

MAX

The baby monitor is quiet. Caroline’s been out for almost an hour. The house is still. Laney’s inside cleaning up from dinner, but I need a second to breathe. I step out onto the porch and lower myself into the worn wooden swing.

The air is warm—summer in Michigan is almost here. That warmth is always bittersweet. It signals the end of the season, and depending on the moment, that can either feel like relief or loss. I love playing, and I always miss the game during the summer. But it’s been a long year, a long season, and I could use the break.

This summer will be different. My first as a dad. My first with Laney.

The night is clear—sky full of stars. I breathe in the clean night air, slow and deep, letting the sound of the wind rustling through the trees settle something in my chest. The porch creaks as the swing sways slightly.

The screen door clicks open behind me.

“You disappeared,” Laney says, stepping out with her metal bottle of water and a light blanket slung over one shoulder.

I glance over my shoulder, smirking. “You always find me.”

She drops the blanket onto the swing next to me, settling in close. I pull it across both our laps. Her head rests on my shoulder a moment later.

“You nervous about tomorrow?” she asks softly.

Game one of the Stanley Cup finals starts tomorrow, and I feel a way about it. It’s not nerves exactly. Maybe just anticipation. This is the second year in a row that we’ve been in the finals, battling it out on the ice to win the cup. Our win last year was so sweet… I desperately want it again.

The season started off rocky, with me being benched for the first time in my life. Caroline had just come into my life, and I was a wreck. I’ve long since made up for my earlier shortcomings, but I still feel the pressure to succeed.

“Not about the game itself,” I finally say. “I’ve played in big games before. I know what to do. But this… it’s the Cup. It’s more than a game. And I can’t stop thinking about all the people counting on me.”

She shifts to look at me. “Your teammates?”

“Them. Caroline. You.”

Laney frowns. “Max, none of us are counting on you to win.”

“Aren’t you?” I ask, my voice low. “Don’t get me wrong—I know you’ll love me either way. But this feels like… like it’s supposed to be the exclamation point. On the life we’re building.”

She slides her hand under the blanket and laces her fingers with mine. “The exclamation point isn’t tomorrow night. It’s right here. This porch. The baby girl sleeping inside. You. Me.”

I press my lips together, trying to fight the ache blooming behind my ribs. This woman sees me clearer than anyone ever has.

“When I was a kid,” I say quietly, “I used to dream about winning the Cup. I’d sneak into the basement, set up the coffeetable like it was a stage, and lift my hockey stick over my head like I’d just single-handedly won it all. But I never dreamed about this part—the family, the baby, the life we’ve built. Which is weird, because now I know… this is the best part.”

“Eh, kids don’t know much,” she says with a soft chuckle. “They dream of glory because they can’t begin to imagine how good it feels to live in a moment like this. Maturity brings peace—and the clarity to recognize what really matters. I know you want to win, and I hope you do. But in the long run? It doesn’t matter. This does.” She squeezes my hand. “Caroline matters. Family matters. That’s everything. Championships are just a bonus. Not the requirement.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I say with a quiet nod.

Laney and I sit in comfortable silence, fingers laced as we gently rock on the porch swing. The night is still, peaceful, and it feels like we’re an old married couple. It’s nice. The kind of nice that settles deep in your bones. I hope fifty years from now, we’re still like this—hand in hand on a porch swing, completely in love.

The thought makes me shake my head with a soft chuckle. Who even am I anymore? Definitely not the bachelor I was before. Love’s wild like that. It sneaks up, turns your whole life inside out, and somehow makes everything better.

“You talked to your parents and Olivia?” Laney asks, turning slightly toward me.

“Yeah. My parents are heading up for game five, and they cleared a couple of days after in case they can swing game six too. Olivia’s finishing up a big case, but she’s planning to be there if it goes to game seven.”

“Okay, wow. I didn’t realize it could take seven games to win the championship.” Laney grins. “I swear, I learn something new about this sport every day.”

“It doesn’t always,” I say with a smile. “First team to win four games takes the Cup. Last year, it went all the way to seven. It just depends how the series plays out.”

“Got it. That makes sense.”

Laney leans her head against my shoulder, and I press a kiss to her hair, breathing her in. The swing creaks beneath us as we rock slowly—the kind of quiet that only happens when you’re completely at peace with someone.

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