Page 148 of Outlaw Heartstrings
ALBA
This is it. The hockey championship cup finals.
And in many ways, the biggest game of Easton’s career.
We’re here.
It’s only game four of the best-of-seven series between the Saints and the Grizzlies. But based on the way the past few games have played out, if the Saints win tonight, it’s all over. We’ll be this season’s championship winners.
The energy in the arena is electric. A hum of excitement dances in the air. Me, personally? I’m gripping the edge of my seat.
The game is currently tied, 2-2, and the Grizzlies have made it clear that they’re not going down without a fight. But the Saints won’t just hand them this victory, either.
Ronan sends the puck zipping toward Parker like a flash of lightning. In turn, Parker pivots, and with one elegant swing of his stick, he slaps the puck clear down the ice. The Grizzlies goalie reacts, but not fast enough. The puck careens into the net, securing the goal that puts the Saints in the lead. Finally.
Jagger and I lose our minds, right along with the rest of the Saints fans. Easton’s mom and his brothers are screaming their heads off, too, just like the other Saints players’ family members. Us, Saints fans may be outnumbered by this sea of Grizzlies supporters, but our noise levels are unmatched.
But that’s mainly because Nicky Westbrook-Brighton is yelling like a lunatic. The team captain’s wife is pregnant and just about ready to burst. But there’s no holding back her excitement tonight. She’s gripping her pregnancy bump, jumping around and cheering on her man like it’s the most important thing she’s ever done. That poor baby must be sweaty and dizzy in there. Good thing Nicky is surrounded by the Brighton family crew, which happens to include three medical doctors.
I can’t blame the woman. There’s just so much to be proud of. The mere fact that the Saints have made it to the finals in their fourth year as a hockey franchise is beyond impressive. These guys are the epitome of hard work mixed with natural talent.
The Saints have gone through so much over the past few years just to get here. Injuries. Trades. Crushing defeats. Our guys have weathered their fair share of storms. So now that the championship cup is within reach, they’re justifiably determined to make every second count.
Easton and I have weathered our own trials and tribulations during the course of our relationship. The DNA test did eventually prove that Christopher is Jagger’s biological father, and the man was all too eager to waive any parental rights.
But Emmeline hit him with the ultimate reverse uno. She filed for a divorceandkept the church for herself and her children. Total boss babe move. It’s good to see acomplete overthrow in the corrupt church leadership around Fairy Bush.
Happening alongside all that, was the process of adopting Jagger. Talk about an emotional journey. The whole path was wrought with logistical issues, administrative delays and lots of tears. Especially since Raya tried to object to the process in between all three of her failed multi-million dollar engagements. Thankfully, the adoption is now finalized and there’s not much my flighty sister can do to reverse the process now. She can’t just reappear in our lives on a whim, making demands for access to Jagger as she pleases.
Over the years, Easton did everything in his power to make the process smooth for our little family. He even bought the house on Marigold Peak, and together, we turned it into our dream home. Now, we have a loving household where we each feel safe, supported and seen.
So all-in-all, every tear we shed has been worth it.
Easton has sacrificed so much for Jagger and me since day one. So this championship cup? That’s why I’m rooting so hard for him to get this championship cup. It’s his dream, and he more than deserves it.
My man is retiring. This is his last game. Tonight might well be the last time he ever steps on the ice in a professional capacity. Knowing that makes me sad. But I lay a hand over my lower belly, reminding myself that it’s time for us to move on to the next chapter of our story.
I’m seven weeks pregnant.
Easton and I haven’t told anyone yet. We’re planning to make the announcement to our family and friends at Easton’s upcoming retirement party. In the meantime, we’ve been savoring this little nugget of bliss just for us. Knowingthat a part of Easton’s legacy is literally growing inside me only makes tonight more special.
With only seconds on the clock, the pressure is on for the Saints’s defense. Our guys are determined in their efforts to keep the Grizzlies from scoring in these last moments of the game. Crossing my fingers and my toes, I offer up a silent prayer for Easton and his teammates.
The Grizzlies star forward lines up the puck to attempt a pass. Easton is right there, though, stealing the puck in a stealthy move. But then, another player from the opposing team appears out of nowhere, slamming my husband into the plexiglass right in front of me. I experience a mini heart attack, grabbing the front of my #33 jersey and wheezing a breath at the violence of the hit.
For a fraction of a second, the world stops.
“Hey! You! Get off my dad!” I hear Jagger yell from beside me as he jumps to his feet. “Dad? Dad, are you okay?”
But then, Easton’s familiar pale blue eyes lift, flitting over Jagger and me. They twinkle in that mischievous way of his from behind his face cage. That’s not pain on his face. It’s joy. Pure, unadulterated joy.
My heart lights up with pride.
My man—my big, strong tower of a man—doing the thing he loves.
The crowd yells. Whistles are blown. And I watch my husband shrug the opposing player off his mammoth figure before he zooms away.
I’m quite the drama queen when it comes to seeing those hockey assholes putting their paws on my man. Of course I know that Easton can hold his own. But here’s the thing—Easton has been so protective of Jagger and me over the years. We can’t help but be protective of him, too.
