by Grey, S. R.
On that happy note, we wrap up our call and I’m left feeling pretty positive about things. Maybe Jackie’s impending motherhood isn’t such a bad thing, after all.
“One down, three to go,” I say to her as I park.
She wiggles her nose at me, and I add, “Don’t worry, we’ll find good homes for all your furry kids.”
Once I have Jackie around back, I let her out of the pet carrier. She’s so cute, hopping around, eating all of Dylan’s ornamental grasses.
Heehee, I’m so bad.
I did my homework first and made sure none of the plants in the back are harmful to her. That’s why I now give her the go-ahead.
“Go to town, girl. You’re eating for five.”
I realize then that I’m a little hungry as well, so I head inside to make a sandwich.
A few minutes later, as I’m taking the first gooey bite of a sure-to-be delicious grilled cheese, I start thinking about Jackie and her condition.
“I suppose I’ll have to have her spayed after this is all over,” I muse. “It’s not like she can go get a Depo shot like me.”
Speaking of which…when was my last Depo shot?
With everything going on, I’ve completely lost track.
I do some quick calculations in my head and realize my last injection was—shit!—in October.
It’s now the end of March.
Gulp.
More Than Words
Practice is running a little later than usual since Coach has us putting in more ice time. We’re pretty much a lock for the playoffs, so he says it’s essential.
When I do finally arrive home, the house is quiet.
That’s weird. Where’s Chloe?
“Sweetheart,” I call out, concerned since she should be back from the vet’s office by now. “Are you home?”
From the kitchen, she softly replies, “I’m in here, Dylan.”
Relieved, I head that way, only to find her seated at the kitchen table biting her nails.
Uh-oh, this isn’t like her at all. Something’s not right.
“Chloe…” I rush over and pull up a chair. “What’s wrong?”
My head is everywhere.
Does she regret moving in with me?
Does she no longer love me?
Fuck, does she think this was all a massive mistake?
Since we’re committed to always being honest and upfront, I man up and ask her if any of those things are true.
“Of course not,” she answers.
So why’s she swiping away a tear?
“Why are you crying?” I ask. “You’re obviously sad about something.”
“No, no,” she insists. “I’m actually happy. Truly, these are tears of joy, Dylan.”
“Are they really, Chloe?”
Sighing, she says, “Yes. I swear I love living here. And I love you more than words.”
That fills me with relief. But why are there still tears in her eyes? I need to think of something to whisk them away.
I think back to our beginning, to one of our best nights.
“‘More than words,”’ eh,” I begin with a smile. “I know that one. It’s one of your nineties one-hit wonders, isn’t it? The title of an Extreme song, I believe.”
She looks at me all confused, but hey, there are no more tears.
So I go on…
“Wait, I got it. You’re crying because this is the start of another epic eighties-versus-nineties music battle and you know you’re going down.”
“Dylan,” she says, laughing now. “You’re impossible.”
I need to keep her smiling, this is good, and the music references seem to be working.
So I say, “Hmm, ‘Impossible’, huh? Let me think. That’s a Shontelle song, but it’s too recent, babe, so I’m going to have to disqualify you.”
This is all silliness, but who cares? Chloe is full-on laughing now.
Pushing a strand of blonde hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear, I say, “In all seriousness, though, why were you crying? It looked like there was more behind those tears. You looked… I don’t know, sweetheart, confused, maybe?”
She glances away. “Uh, you know I took the rabbit to the vet today, right?”
Ah, she’s deflecting, but that’s okay. We’ll get to the bottom of this.
For now, I just say, “Yes, I was going to ask you about that.”
“Well, we finally have an answer to our burning balls question.”
“Ouch.” I wince. “Do you have to phrase it like that?”
That gets me another laugh, and then she informs me that Jack is no longer Jack. “She is officially named Jackie,” Chloe states.
“Ah, so she is a girl.”
“Yes, and there’s more.”
“What?”
“She’s also definitely preggers.”
“Wow, I wonder who the baby daddy is.”
Huffing, she informs me, “Oh, I have an answer to that. The baby daddy is some crime scene rabbit that was down at the police station with our baby girl.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope, Officer Willet filled me in on the whole sordid tale.”
Chloe brings me up to speed on the rabbit loving that went down, and I conclude, “Guess our girl likes bad boys.”
“It would seem so. We’re definitely going to have to keep an eye on what kind of rogue rabbits she associates with from this point on.”
Chloe comes over then to sit in my lap. She wraps me up in a hug and murmurs, “Maybe she’ll find herself a nice hockey player rabbit down the road.”
Leaning back, and with our foreheads touching, I whisper, “Like you did?”
“Yes, like I did.”
“Chloe, seriously, what else is going on? I know there’s more.”
Sitting up straight, though still in my lap, she informs me, “There is, but I’m kind of scared to say what’s weighing on me.”
“Why? You know you can tell me anything.”
“I know. But this is huge…and unexpected.”
“Uh-oh, now I’m worried. What is it?”
She takes a deep breath, and then says, “Dylan, I’m pregnant.”
“What?” I almost pass out.
But then the impact of what Chloe has just told me begins to sink in. And you know what? I’m okay with it. In fact, I’m better than okay with it.
I share this with her, and she says, “Are you sure you’re not mad?”
“Are you kidding? I feel blessed.”
“Oh, Dylan, thank God, because I do too. Those tears you saw earlier really were tears of joy. But still, I was worried about how you’d feel.”
“Well, I’m happy,” I assure her as I kiss her nose, her cheeks, and her lips.
We linger for a minute, and then I lean back. “Chloe, I have something to tell you too. And like your news, it’s all good.”
“So what is it, Dylan?”
“I want to tell you how I feel about you, like deep inside. You’re my new beginning, sweetheart. You have been since the day we met. And as we got to know each other you became my salvation. You quieted all the internal demons I was battling. You put them to rest. So it really is time to turn the page and look to the future. I once thought I was saving you, but it’s you who saved me. It’s always been you, Chloe, and I suspect it always will be.”
“That’s beautiful, Dylan, and I appreciate it so much. But maybe we saved each other.” Chloe’s hands are in my hair, her lips on my neck. “So the only question left is what do we do now?”
“Oh, babe, that’s an easy one. We have a baby.”
Embrace the Unexpected
Several months later…
In the move from my old place to Dylan’s house, I somehow misplaced my X Your Ex booklet. I searched for months and months, going through box after box, but to no avail.
And then, one November day, it turns up.
I race into the kitchen where Dylan is eating his post-practice lunch and announce, �
�Hey, check out what I just found.”
He looks up from where he’s biting into an apple. “Wow, where was that thing?”
I sit down at the table with him. “I found it stuck under the flap of one of my old moving boxes.”
“Huh, no wonder it took so long to show up.”
“No worries, I have it now.”
“Yes, you do.”
I hold the booklet up. “You know what this means, right?”
“You can give it back to Graham?”
I roll my eyes. “No, silly man, it means that I can finally complete the tenth and final step in the program.”
Chuckling, Dylan says, “Sweetheart, that’s wonderful, but I really think you ‘exed your ex’ a long time ago.”
“Hmm, you do have a point.”
He’s right. I’ve moved on. And as for Sten, he’s about as exed out as any ex could ever get. He remains in prison, not just for what he did to me but for many other things. It turns out that ole Sten was committing a slew of white-collar crimes that no one knew of. Well, until it all came to light before his first court date. He pled guilty in the hopes of receiving a lighter sentence, but the judge gave him the longest sentence possible.
Let’s just say that man won’t be out on the streets anytime soon.
But I don’t dwell on the past, and I certainly don’t lose any sleep over Sten. I look only to the future these days—and the present, of course.
Still, I want to finish the program. I’m just weird like that. My brother would say it’s a Tettersaw trait, but I think it’s just me.
In any case, I say to Dylan, “If you remember, I did the first nine steps and they really changed my life. I should at least check out what the tenth one is.”
“Go for it,” he says.
Finished with his lunch, he stands and comes over to linger behind me so he can look over my shoulder. That man is just as curious as I am to see what the final step is.
“Dun-dun-dun,” I murmur as I flip to the back.
“And there it is,” I proclaim as I turn the page to step ten.
Dylan looks down, reading along with me. And then we both start to laugh.
“Wow. You completed step ten a long time ago, babe, and you didn’t even know it.”
“Yes, I did,” I murmur, feeling a wave of satisfaction.
Step ten is “Embrace the Unexpected,” which is something I did several months ago—as did Dylan—when we found out about Autumn. By the way, Autumn is our perfect little six-week-old baby girl.
Shortly after we found out I was pregnant, Dylan and I got married. It was a small ceremony, but perfect nonetheless. Many of his teammates attended, and Aubrey was my maid of honor. Graham, of course, was Dylan’s best man.
Fall then arrived, and so did our girl. Our beautiful daughter was a few weeks early, but she’s doing great now.
Speaking of which, she lets out a little squeal from where she’s sleeping in the next room. Or I should say, was sleeping.
“Someone just woke up,” Dylan remarks.
I go to her and bring her to us.
“She’s just amazing, isn’t she?” I marvel as we peer down at her.
“She is,” he agrees.
We’re so smitten. Dylan can’t keep his eyes off his daughter, and really, neither can I. We’re so in love with our little Autumn. She gives us sunshine and blue skies every day. And she’s brought us even closer by giving our lives a shared meaning and purpose.
So when all is said and done, she really is our “embrace the unexpected.”
I guess Graham was right all along. The little pamphlet he gave me a long time ago really has changed my life.
For the better…and for forever.
And you know what?
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Are you ready for Jaxon’s story, Player on Ice? It’s coming this summer.
S.R. Grey is an Amazon Top 100 and a #1 Barnes & Noble bestselling author. The bestselling Boys of Winter hockey romance series, the popular Judge Me Not books, the award-winning Promises series, the Inevitability duology, A Harbour Falls Mystery trilogy, and the steamy Laid Bare series of novellas are among her works. Ms. Grey’s novels have appeared on multiple Amazon Bestseller lists, including the top 100 several times. She’s also a #1 Bestselling Author on Barnes & Noble and a Top 100 Bestselling Author on iTunes.
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Thank you to all the readers, the bloggers, and everyone who loves and supports this series. You are amazing and I couldn’t do this without you.
Thanks to Christopher John for the stunning cover photo, and to Najla Qamber for designing book covers that so perfectly capture the feel of the series.
Thank you, Franci N., for beta reading and always providing valuable feedback. I appreciate you and your insights. And Chloe thanks you for keeping her from wearing socks with her fancy dress.
Thank you also to Kristin S. and the editing team at Hot Tree Editing. And thank you to Julie Deaton for always stellar proofreading.
Heidi gets a shout-out for helping me brainstorm when I was stuck.
Lastly, thank you to my family and friends, and to my esteemed hockey “consultants.”
Y’all make this journey possible.
It’s not over yet.
Here’s your chance to read the first chapter of Destiny on Ice, Brent Oliver’s story and the first novel in the bestselling Boys of Winter series.
Golden Boy Gets a Little Tarnished
My father was a great hockey player. Back in the day, in the era of eighties’ big hair and synthesized music, Billy Oliver won not just one, but two Stanley Cups. He was awarded the Conn Smythe trophy both times and has received an assortment of other hardware throughout the years.
He’s retired now, but my dad was once a star.
To me, though, he’s always just been Dad.
But as his only child, I have a legacy to live up to. I pray I don’t disappoint him. I pray someday I’ll be as good as he once was. And damn it, I better win a freaking Stanley Cup like he did.
I have no choice, not really. Since the moment my father first laced up hockey skates on my three-year-old little feet, the look of pride on his face told me even then all I needed to know—anything short of being the best will never do.
And guess what?
In many ways, I’ve become the best at what I do, which is, like my dad, play professional hockey.
I’ve been good since the start, a natural some say. I don’t know about that, but I do know that even before I was drafted—in the first round by the Las Vegas Wolves, an expansion team at the time—I was being called “The Golden Boy” and “The Next One.”
These days, three years later, I’m pretty much the poster boy for the NHL. And I have a slew of endorsement deals to prove it.
Lately, though, I’ve been falling short.
And I really don’t know why.
Something is missing for me in the game. Or is it something that’s missing in me?
I blow out a breath and shake my head.
Things started out so great. Where’d it all go wrong?
I made a name for myself early on. Expansion teams usually struggle for years before posting a winning record. Not so for the Wolves. With me centering what was then a subpar line, I was still able to make us shine. We came out swinging tha
t first season in the league.
Brent Oliver Scores the Game-Winning Goal in His and the Wolves’ First NHL Game, Sets Up Teammates for Two More
One month later, there was this:
The Wolves Off to a Completely Unexpected Stellar Start
Then things started to slide.
Those subpar players on my line weren’t enough to keep afloat a pretty much overall crappy team, even with me centering. The Wolves’ owners and management made the necessary moves—they don’t mess around when shit needs to get done.
We picked up a phenomenal winger, Nolan Solvenson. He started to play and things turned around.
Adding Skilled Right-Winger Nolan Solvenson to Rookie Brent Oliver’s First Line Proving to be a Masterful Move
On a Mid-Season Winning Streak, That Solvenson Trade is Paying Off for the Wolves!
Another trade made at the deadline gave us Benjamin Perry. A big, strong left-handed winger, he was the final piece to the puzzle. Even with far-from-elite second, third, and fourth lines, it didn’t matter. Not with me, Benjamin, and Nolan on the first line. We could not be stopped.
Benjamin—or Benny, as he’s known to the team—is adept at using his size and muscle to check the hell out of any sorry soul who happens to be matched up against him. He simply wears other players down…and then it’s a fucking scorefest. Thanks, in part, to his killer slapshot.
Together with Nolan, a sniper in his own right, we were—and in many ways still are—quite a force to be reckoned with. We destroy teams, though not as much lately. But back then, man, we were racking up so many points that the press branded us the OPS line, as in Special Forces.
The OPS Line’s Snipers of Oliver, Perry, and Solvenson Eliminate the Competition with Ease
