Page 82 of Dirty Puck

Isat on the couch between Claudia on one side and Char, who felt good enough to join us today, on the other. A rarity these days, watching the game on TV.

And I was stillstunned.

No one had said a word about this to me. The Copperheads—every single one of them—had pledged to match every dollar raised during the benefit weekend. Not a portion. Not a percentage. Dollar for dollar.

Char’s hand found mine, soft and bird-boned but warm. “That’s going to help so many families.”

“I know,” I whispered, blinking fast. “You raised a good man.”

She smiled softly, knowing she’d done exactly that. A proud mother moment for a woman who was quickly losing precious time to see more of them. I liked that for her, getting these moments in.

Benny sat in the chair, his legs kicking rhythmically against the cushion while he played with his sensory pop-it toy. He’d made it through trick-or-treating at the arena like a champ. Reece had carried him half the time, grinning likehe’d won the damn lottery. And Benny—sweet, guarded, cautious Benny—had reached for Reece with both arms.

I’d barely survived that moment.

The next day, I asked Claudia if she minded staying home with Benny while I made a quick trip to the arena. She smiled, telling me, “Go. We’ll have plenty to do while you’re gone.”

What the men had done meant so much to me that I had to find a way to saythank you. Jaycee baked. Her two locations told me that I didn’t want to embarrass myself by bringing in sweet treats. I would classify myself as a good baker, but she’d trained in France. So I made my pumpkin, spinach, and mushroom lasagna. I filled four casserole dishes, packed them in the car, and took them to the place I used to clock in every day.

Now, walking through the doors as a visitor, my hands full of gratitude and carbs, I saw it all differently.

These weren’t just coworkers or players. They were the people helping give my son—and so many others—a fighting chance.

I found Bishop near the training room and pulled him into a quick, one-armed side hug before he even saw it coming. And all while balancing those stacked dishes with one arm.

“Bree?” He laughed. “You trying to break my ribs?”

“Trying to saythank you. For everything. For that incredible announcement. For matching the donations.”

He scratched the back of his neck, looking like someone’s kid caught doing a good deed. “It wasn’t just me.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got that captain energy. You don’t have to admit it. I know.”

He smirked. “You brought lunch?”

“I thought you all deserved it,” I replied as he lightened my load, carrying the dishes into the conference room for me.

Word got around fast. Reece’s girl had shown up with good food and misty eyes. I didn’t care. Not today. Let them talk. I’d try to win back my sassy reputation next time.

When I got back from grabbing the plates and plastic flatware from the storage room—I knew all the secrets of this place—Bonner was already attempting to cut himself a slice with his pocket knife.

Let me just say, I should’ve made five pans at least. The lasagna didn’t stand a chance.

“Man, first Bishop and now Reece getting women who can cook. Fuck that,” Winstead said and I didn’t like his tone. It wasn’t a compliment for me or Jaycee, but acutdownfor Chesney and she didn’t deserve that. We all had different talents. I believed putting up with his ass wasn’t just a talent, but her superpower. And to think I used to like him.

“If you were nice, I’d offer to teach Chesney how to make this, but I don’t like your attitude,Winstead.”

Cue the round of “ooo” and “ouch” from his teammates. And sassy Bree was back.

But now I had to get home. I kissed Reece. Hekissedme. I’d say he won, but let’s be real on who the real winner was with that.

From that point on, time seemed to move at warp speed because the next thing I knew, we were almost to the benefit weekend. The buzz in the air that seemed to follow us everywhere we went those weeks leading up. You could feel it humming through the team group chat, in the updates the foundation sent out, even in the way Reece carried himself.

And while he was on the road, life at home fell into a quiet rhythm. Claudia and I kept things running—her helping with Char when I got busy with Benny’s school drop-offs and keeping our little routine stable. Char, bless her, was growing more tired by the week.

One warm afternoon, with Benny at school and Claudia on a video appointment in her room, I wheeled Char down the wooden plank path that led to Reece’s private beach. She always seemed to breathe easier out there, with the salt in the air and the ocean spread out like something holy.

Char closed her eyes as the breeze lifted her thinning hair. “This is the best medicine,” she said softly.

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