Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

MOLLY

“So, you and Gerry, huh?” the blonde woman next to her said, grinning and stuck out her hand. “Becca Giroux – and number eighty is my man on the ice. This is Aimee, and she claims the mouthy one…”

“Only sometimes,” Aimee laughed before waving her off. “I’m kidding – sheesh, and don’t tell Theo that I even joked about that. He may be the biggest fighter on the ice, but he’s a sensitive little soul – and we don’t talk about that either.”

Both women looked at each other, winked, and then laughed.

“Welcome to Alonsy Alley ,” Aimee smiled before hugging her. “I’m so excited for you and Gerry. He’s such a good dude.”

“We’re just dating.”

“Aww, you hear that Becca? She’s using my line…”

“I think we’ve all used that one.”

“I don’t even belong here. I mean, I bought my ticket and…”

“Girl, you don’t buy your tickets anymore, sheesh. First off, your man should be giving you one. Se condly, if you don’t have one, you go talk to the PR office because, lemme tell you – they want the significant others here. The more they make it onto the television, the better publicity it is, and people love the Coyotes right now.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah, about five years ago – not so much.”

“They’ve really cleaned up their act.”

“Yeah, do not Google that…”

“You know she will now. I would – and did. Some of the older players were— um , shall we say ‘ active in the community.’ ”

“They were… active and very hydrated .”

“Drunken bro-hoes?”

“Oh girl, we are gonna get along just fine,” Aimee laughed easily. “If you are hungry, don’t eat the popcorn or junk. We make a run for the Ladies Lounge where they put the good stuff.”

“The taco bar!”

“You two are the ones that the nutritionist is whining about?” Molly gaped in surprise. She knew that the nutritionist on the team was a little stuffy and nearly had a cow when she brought in brownies for Gerry – until he found out that they were holistic and made with beets. She wasn’t sure how the donuts got past the fire-breathing dragon that didn’t mince words.

“Ugh, Phillip is a drama queen.”

“Truth,” Aimee and Molly said in unison and looked at each other in surprise. “What’d you do?”

“Um, I gave him beet brownies, which were apparently pretty delicious, so he ate several. Beets, fiber, all natural products, and well… you get the drift. What did you do?”

“Asked for a deep fryer, gouda cheese curds, and for him to ship in cans of poutine gravy to surprise Theo.”

“Wait – you asked for high-calorie foods for Theo, and Phillip said ‘No’?”

“Yup.”

“Would an air fryer work?”

“Maybe?”

“Let me see what I can do because Theo has an awfully high metabolism, and I’ve been pumping him full of protein shakes so he can gain some mass and…”

“Wait! You’re Shakezilla?” Aimee gaped in shock, looking her up and down.

“He calls me Shakezilla? I thought Beetlejuice was bad enough,” Molly muttered, horrified that apparently the team not only named her more than once but discussed her among themselves and at home. Was she really so tough on the guys?”

“It’s an affectionate term, I assure you,” Becca chimed in quickly.

“No, it’s not,” Molly retorted flatly, crossing her arms.

“Nope. It really isn’t, but did that make you feel better?” Aimee said lightly, giving her two thumbs up. “No hard feelings, Shakezilla?”

“Oh my gosh…”

“If it makes you feel any better, I make him sing the song from Aqua Teen Hunger Force – and with that French accent, the significant lack of ‘D’s and ‘H’s in his speech, it’s practically feral and so unbelievably hot. Theo starts rapping in broken English, dancing, and…”

“ Ughhhh !” both Becca and Molly reared back in horror.

“Hey!” Aimee snapped, shaking her finger at them. “My man, my hotness. Don’t you ‘ugh’ me. We don’t ‘ yuck’ other people’s ‘ C’est bon! ’ and ‘ Yums’ – got me?”

All three women looked at each other – and burst out laughing. Molly hadn’t realized just how much she enjoyed hanging out and being around other women. It was nice to have someone to talk to, someone who seeme d to understand, and someone who knew a bit of her ‘world’ putting the pieces together. Sometimes, when she called her mother, it was hard because she had to explain everything in detail… but not with these two. They were living in a world not so far from her own, which made her feel strangely included.

She looked back at the ice, watching the last bits of the game, waiting anxiously to see Gerry once more.

A s the final buzzer sounded, the roar of the crowd filled the arena, but Molly barely had time to register it before Aimee and Becca seized her wrists, each clamping on as though her very presence was a mission. They hustled her down the walkway, weaving through clusters of fans with determination. Molly stumbled along; her protests drowned out by their urgent whispers and exaggerated gestures.

“Move, move, move!” Aimee hissed, her head whipping around like a secret agent dodging enemy fire.

“Why are we rushing?” Molly managed to ask, trying not to trip as Becca yanked her forward.

“Because,” Becca whispered fiercely, throwing a glance over her shoulder, “if we don’t get you out of here fast, we’re about to become targets for popcorn hail and soda-deluges.”

“What?” Molly’s confusion was written all over her face.

“Disgruntled women,” Aimee clarified, her lips pressed into a tight line. “When they find out one of our guys is taken, it’s Hate City for us.”

Becca nodded vigorously. “And don’t think I don’t want to snap at them. Sometimes I just want to shout, ‘ This is why he didn’t pick you! ’” She threw up her free hand dramatically, earning a few curious stares from passersby. “But you know what that gets me? A Sprite-Shower and sticky hair.”

Molly balk ed, stopping abruptly just as they reached the door leading to the private lounge area. Her friends halted in their tracks, their expressions a mix of exasperation and confusion.

“Y’all…” Molly started, her voice a mix of bemusement and frustration. She held up her hands, palms out, as if surrendering to their overzealous antics. “He’s not taken. We’ve been on one date and?—”

“Oh no, I’m gonna stop you right there, Queen Denial ,” Aimee interjected, planting her hands on her hips like she was ready to lay down some universal truths. “Because that little stunt he just pulled out there?” She jabbed her finger toward the now-empty rink, her voice rising in pitch with emphasis. “That was the equivalent of a branding iron right on the rump. You. Are. His.”

“Facts,” Becca muttered, crossing her arms with a knowing nod.

Aimee pressed on, unrelenting. “He is claiming you, Molly. You are dating. I’d suggest you watch SportsCenter tonight if you don’t believe me.”

Molly froze, her gaze flickering between their resolute faces. Her heart pounded in her chest as their words began to sink in. Gerry was claiming her? Not just flirting, not just pulling some sweet, spur-of-the-moment stunt to get her to agree to another date?

No, this was something more.

He had marked her in front of everyone, boldly and without apology. He wanted her. He chose her.

The weight of that realization hit her like a tidal wave, eroding every last piece of resistance she’d been holding onto. Her walls, built so carefully to protect herself, crumbled under the force of this truth.

Aimee and Becca exchanged a knowing look, watching as Molly’s resolve visibly wavered.

Molly swal lowed hard, her pulse racing. The enormity of Gerry’s gesture wasn’t lost on her. He wasn’t just making a statement—he was laying his heart on the line, for her .

And suddenly, she realized, she wanted to meet him there.

The door slammed open, breaking the low hum of post-game chatter, and two men stormed in with a lively energy that filled the room. Their laughter and movement were uncontainable and magnetic, drawing every eye as they made their way toward Becca and Aimee. The air seemed to hum with the unique blend of camaraderie and intimacy that comes from lives entwined by love and partnership.

In those fleeting seconds, Becca caught a glimpse of her friends' faces transforming with joy—an awareness that could only come from knowing their hearts belonged entirely to someone else.

Becca practically flung herself into Giroux’s waiting arms, her laughter light and unguarded as she kissed him without a care for his sweaty, shaggy hair damp from hours spent under a hockey helmet. The unmistakable scent of effort and exertion clung to him, but it didn’t matter. The connection between them was all-consuming.

Beside her, Batiste leaned into Aimee. His forehead pressed gently to hers as he murmured in a low, soothing voice, switching effortlessly between French and English. His words were private, tender, and meant only for her ears, and the way Aimee smiled told the story of a love that was steady and profound.

Then the door opened again.

This time, it was Gerry.

Her breath hitched. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the world seemed to tilt and slow as his gaze latched onto hers. The words her friends had teased her with earlier— He’s claimed you, he wants you, you’re his girl —rang in her ears. His face was flushed, patches of ruddy pink standing out from the cold arena air, and the adrenaline of inte nse plays on the ice, but his eyes... those eyes...

They softened the moment they saw her, turning warm and tender, and she felt a strange, thrilling stillness settle over her. Time held its breath, the noise around them fading as if the universe itself recognized the gravity of this moment. Every objection she’d told herself, every attempt to deny the connection between them, dissolved. She had tried to convince herself they were nothing more than two people who had gone on one date. Yet, under that gaze, all her doubts crumbled. He was walking toward her now, and the pull was undeniable.

“Did you like the game?” he asked, his voice deep but tinged with hesitation as if the answer mattered more than it should.

“It was great,” she replied, her heart thudding in a rhythm that felt anything but steady.

He shifted nervously, his hands fidgeting at his sides. “I’m gonna get cleaned up, and I was hoping…” He trailed off, his tone uncertain.

“Yes,” she cut in, the word tumbling out breathlessly before she even knew what he was going to ask.

He blinked, startled but amused. “I was going to see if you wanted to go?—”

“Yes,” she interrupted again, her voice firmer this time, as a small smile tugged at her lips.

Gerry let out a soft, nervous laugh, the sound warm and endearing. His smile deepened, a sweetness in it that made her chest ache with an emotion she couldn’t yet name. Her pulse quickened as she thought about what it might be like to have more of these moments—to see that smile every day, to share these small, stolen fragments of tenderness. Life wasn’t perfect; everyone had their bad days and their frustrations. But somehow, it felt like he was setting a ll that aside, just for her, simply to exist in this moment together.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to join me for a late snack. I know traffic is a bear and?—”

“Gerry,” she interrupted, her voice soft but insistent as she stepped forward, placing her hand on the front of his uniform. “I’m still saying ‘yes.’”

Her palm brushed against the damp fabric, the hard ridges of protective gear beneath, and yet she swore she could feel his heartbeat, wild and unsteady, mirroring her own. She met his gaze, letting her words linger between them. “I’m in—for whatever this is,” she said, her voice trembling with raw honesty.

His eyes widened, a flicker of hope mingling with something deeper, and she saw him lean closer. But he paused, his mouth curving into a sheepish smile.

“I stink,” he admitted with a quiet chuckle, his words laced with both humor and self-awareness. “Let me go and?—”

“Kiss me,” she urged, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her fingers curled slightly, holding him there, and she saw him melt under her gaze.

In a heartbeat, his lips were on hers—warm, firm, and utterly consuming. The chaotic noise of the room melted into a distant hum, leaving only the two of them suspended in a timeless moment. Gerry kissed her like she was the answer to every question he'd ever had, the balm to every ache he'd ever felt. The tenderness in his kiss held her captive, his unhurried movements brushing away every ounce of tension in her body.

The world ceased to exist beyond this connection. Her fingers trembled as she reached up, curling into the damp hair at the nape of his neck, feeling the heat radiating from him after the game’s grueling effort. She tasted the faint tang of salt and exertion, a reminder of the battle he'd just fought on the ice. But beneath it all, she tasted hi m—raw, real, and undeniably hers.

Her man.

That realization swept through her like a tide, overwhelming and thrilling all at once. Gerry was claiming her, not with words but with the depth of that kiss, and she found herself wanting to be his in every way that mattered. Her grip on him tightened, anchoring herself to him as the rest of the room faded into a blur. His devotion was palpable, spoken through every brush of his lips, every gentle shift as though he feared breaking her.

The bubble of their world was abruptly pierced by a sharp, teasing voice.

“Heyyyyy!”

The sound jolted her back to reality, and her lips broke from Gerry’s, her breath hitching in protest. She turned her head to see Coeur leaning casually in the doorway, his ever-present playful grin plastered across his sweaty face. He looked just as worn as Gerry, his jersey damp with effort, but unlike Gerry, Coeur’s appearance wasn’t remotely appealing. He might be hot according to society’s standards, but not her focus. Her focus was directly on Gerry, like a horse with blinders.

“Button-Buster, you can’t eat the people. It’s frowned on by society…” he quipped, his voice dripping with amusement.

The chuckles from the others nearby hit her like cold water, bringing an unfamiliar and alarming streak of protectiveness to life. Her spine stiffened as she instinctively stepped closer to Gerry, her shoulder brushing his chest as if to shield him from the taunts.

Molly narrowed her eyes at Coeur, her lips still tingling from the kiss. “Why don’t you go find someone else to harass,” she snapped, her voice carrying a sharp edge. “I’m congratulating my favorite player.”

Coeur’s grin widened as though he’d found a new source of entertainment. “We lost.”

Molly’s lips curved into a sly smile as she tilted her chin up. “I feel like I’ve won.”

Something shifted in Coeur’s expression. The teasing grin faltered, melting into a smile that didn’t reach his tired, shadowed eyes. There was something raw and bitter there—an envy so fleeting it might have been imagined, but it struck her with its intensity.

“I’m happy for you both,” he said quietly, though the words felt oddly hollow.

Molly wasn’t finished. She straightened, her protective instincts sharpening. “No more nicknames or teasing,” she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “It’s rude, and I’d hate to have to maim you for picking on my man.”

Coeur held up his hands in mock surrender, though his smirk returned faintly. “Oh, ho! Is that the lay of the land now?”

Before Molly could reply, another voice joined the fray.

“Dang, dude, you smell,” Boucher called, appearing just behind Coeur with a grimace.

“You do, too,” Coeur shot back without missing a beat, rolling his eyes. “I was hoping there’d be lasagna in here or something, but nope. Dumb ol’ cheap nacho bar.”

“I thought it was supposed to be tacos? I like nachos,” Boucher offered with a shrug, trying to edge past Coeur.

“Nope,” Coeur said, holding an arm out like a barricade. “Too much emotional kissy stuff in this room for either of us. C’mon, buddy, let’s leave the lovebirds alone for a few.”

As the two bantered their way down the hall, their voices fading, Molly exhaled softly, the tension in her shoulders melting away. She turned back to Gerry, her hand still resting lightly on his neck. His eyes were locked on hers, a quiet intensity in their depths that sent a shiver racing through her.

“They’ re not wrong,” Gerry murmured, his lips quirking into a half-smile. “We did lose the game by one point, but I do feel like I’ve just won.”

And as Molly leaned in to kiss him again, the rest of the world slipped away once more as she whispered softly between them.

“We both did.”