Page 172 of Hockey Halloween

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He flares his nostrils. “Swiss Cheese is our safe word because by the time I’m done with her, she’s got more holes than a mafia informant after a snitching incident—and she still begs for more.”

She blows him a kiss. “Swiss Cheese is the emergency brake before he fucks me into negative space.”

The room erupts into boisterous laughter right as Gabriella covers her face in the doorway. “I did not need to hear that.” She groans, making us all laugh even harder. “Edith, I’ve known you since you were a little girl. And you,” She points at her son. “That’s… socrudeMijo.”

Edith grins at Apollo like she knew his mother was going to appear and scold him.

Her husband, Hunter appears next to her and ushers us all together in front of the fireplace for a group picture. When he’s taken about three hundred shots, portrait, landscape, close up, far away, and moved people around a few times so we have different aesthetics to pick from, Ares stops everyone in their tracks. “Wait! We need a pj picture.”

“PJ? I didn’t bring pjs.” I point at Mason. “You didn’t tell me it was a sleepover, McGuffin.”

“Don’t sweat it.” Penelope flaps her hand in my direction. “Ares gets us all matching pjs every Christmas.”

“It’s like his thing,” confirms Savannah.

It’s only been two months, eight short weeks since I landed in Cedar Rapids airport and my big, beautiful beast of a man crashed into me dressed as a cartoon prince. But that man, these people, this place… they were the missing pieces inside my heart that I never knew were missing.

Tori doesn’t miss me sweeping a finger to catch the tears trickling down my face. “Nope!” she scolds. “No crying near the pregnant woman. I’m a sympathetic crier.”

Mason rushes across to crouch at my feet, cradling my cheeks with both his hands and searching my eyes with an intense concern in his baby blues. “You don’t have to wear the pajamas if you don’t want to, Ghost. If he throws a tantrum, I’ll kick his ass.”

I shake my head, making my tears shake loose. “It’s not the sleepwear.”

“What is it, night monster. Tell me whatever it is, I’ll fix it.”

My smile is watery as I drop my forehead to his. The room is quiet, and despite everyone we know and hang out with being in the same room as us, time stands still as he waits to hear what’s hurt me.

“I’m so glad I moved to Cedar Rapids.” I start, sniffing to try to stop the stupid tears from trickling down my face. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was running away, from my ex, from my reputation, from my pain. And here I found you.” I caress his face with a tender palm, stroking his scar with my thumb. “All of you.”

I make eye contact with the women who have become my closest friends in the last two months. Pressing my palm to my chest, I swallow. “I love you,” I whisper to Mason, brushing a ghost of a kiss across his lips. I sit back a little. “I love you all. I’d spent so long shrinking myself down that I didn’t realize how small I’d become. Thank you all for encouraging me to take up space, and for loving me even harder when I did.”

Mason’s jaw slackens, his face relaxes, and he presses his lips to my forehead. “Thank you for looking beneath the beast.”

Athena clears her throat and raises her glass. “To found family.”

I swallow the lump of warm and bubbling emotions in my throat, then give Mason a smile as I lift my glass and whisper. “To found family.”

About the Author

Lasairiona writes sassy, classy, and unapologetically badassy women—and the strong-yet-vulnerable men who love them. She delivers steamy sports romances that hit just as hard off the ice as on it.

A proudly queer author, she champions inclusivity and diversity, often bringing her own bisexuality to the page with own-voices representation.

Her books blend heart, heat, and a refreshing dose of real-life messiness. She tackles mental health, tough conversations, and well-placed taboos—because love (and life) isn't always neat and pretty.

Find her on Instagram: queenoffirelas

The Captain’s Boo-trayal by Jenny Redford

The Captain’s Boo-trayal

JENNY REDFORD

Copyright © 2025 Jenny Redford

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