Page 80 of Dirty Puck

No one said anything, but the look on Bishop’s face told me he noticed. Hell,everyonenoticed.

I crouched and scooped Benny into my arms, feeling the soft puff of his costume press against my chest while Bree gestured with her chin that she was heading to the restroom.

“Hey, bud,” I murmured. “Look at you.”

He pressed his little forehead against my shoulder because he knew me. Because I was something safe. I didn’t even try to fight what that did to me.

Bishop leaned against the wall, taping his stick. “Jaycee should be here any minute.”

“She stopping by the locker room?” I asked, rocking Benny slowly side to side. That always got me a smile.

“Hell yeah, she is. I’m walking with her and LJ for a little before we have to suit up again.”

“Can we walk with you?”

Bishop just grinned because he thought he knew something about me. Some secret. Please, he got exactly what I agreed to give.

I looked at Benny. “You want to go trick-or-treating with LJ?”

His eyes saidyes.

“Daddy!” LJ shouted as he burst through the door, arms outstretched. Bishop scooped his boy up. The kid wore a peanut costume.

“How’s my little peanut?” he said and LJ smiled. Jaycee sauntered up behind him, leaning in to steal a kiss from Bishop before looking at me.

“Hey, Baker,” she said, then she looked to Benny. “Hey, Benny. Are you a lion?”

Benny gave her his attention. That was his yes.

“Ready to go?” she asked me and her husband as Bree joined us again.

Right. Let’s do this.

The four of us strolled through the concourse—me, Bishop, Jaycee, and Bree—while Benny walked slowly between us, switching between holding hands and thenriding on my back, piggyback style, like a pro. Every vendor had a bucket and a smile, and Benny made it through each stop on a mission to collect more candy than he’d ever eat in a year. I carried his loot when the pumpkin got too heavy. He clutched a lollipop with sticky pride.

And me? I couldn’t stop watching them.

Bree in her jeans and team hoodie, her hair pulled up, that small, proud smile on her face. I’d never done anything like this. Trick-or-treating in a packed stadium with a kid that felt likemine, even if I didn’t have the right to say it out loud.

But damn if I didn’tfeelit.

Eventually, it got to be too much—the noise, the movement. Bree caught the first signs in Benny’s posture, in the little way his fingers flapped by his sides. We were planning on heading out when Benny crumpled to the floor, clearly done with it all. She crouched down to his level and pulled him into her arms, pressing her forehead gently to his.

“We’re going home,” she said quietly. “He’s had enough.”

I nodded, swallowing the tight feeling in my chest. I didn’t want them to leave.

But I understood.

So I knelt, kissed the top of Benny’s head, and caught Bree’s eyes as she adjusted his headphones.

“Text me when you’re home safe,” I said.

She nodded. “Good luck tonight.”

I didn’t say anything more. If I had, it might’ve beentoo much.

That night, the announcer came over the PA during warmups to share the charity benefit details. The weekend after Thanksgiving. A full weekend. Donations at all tiers went directly toward funding therapy, mobility aids, and sensory tools for kids across the region.

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