28. Jenner

Chapter 28

Jenner

Sweat ran into my eyes and my vision blurred as I made my way back to the bench. Dropping down between Asher and Braxton, I grabbed the towel next to my water bottle to wipe the sweat away from my brow, cleaning the clear plastic of my visor for good measure.

"Fuck," I panted, trying to catch my breath after a hard forty-five-second shift. "Can't get a breakout pass for shit tonight."

"No kidding," Asher agreed.

In an arena located in midtown Manhattan, we were playing against our divisional opponents, the New York Freedom. They were buzzing on the ice while we were simply trying to survive.

Most of the game was spent struggling to make it out of the defensive zone. It almost felt like they could see our intended plays before they materialized and were always perfectly positioned to break up our passes.

That, and they were laying the heavy hits tonight.

I rolled my shoulder, a twinge beneath the skin reminding me of a check I'd taken into the boards during the first period. I had played through worse, but I made a mental note to have one of the trainers hit me with a cortisone shot during the intermission.

"Slate line!" Maddox barked. "Back on the ice!"

Almost muscle memory at this point, the three of us jumped over the boards and onto the ice, skating hard to where the defenseman for the Freedom was holding the puck behind his own net as they also executed their own line change.

Braxton charged the lone D-man, trying to force him to throw away the puck, while I cut off the pass to his forward, situated at the blue line. I almost smiled at the predictability of it as I kept my stick hard on the ice to intercept the pass.

I could feel the forward at my back, chasing me down as I charged the net, where Braxton now stood tied up with the defenseman. Time seemed to slow down as I assessed the goalie's stance and where I wanted to place the puck for the highest chance of scoring. If I could get him to drop, I'd need to snap the puck immediately to try and get it over his shoulder before he could get his glove up to catch it. But when he squared up, trying to peek around the bodies of both his teammate and mine, blocking his view, I made a split-second decision.

Pulling to my right, I locked eyes with the netminder, Monroe, as I pulled back my stick like I was going to take a close-range slapshot. The Freedom defenseman also tracked the move, pushing Braxton in front of where he expected the shot to land so he would take the brunt of the block. Bringing my stick back down to the ice, I didn't shoot the puck with as much force as I could muster. Instead, I pulled it to the left, chipping it into the open net on my backhand before anyone could react and stop me.

My arms shot up in celebration, and Asher skated closer, screaming, "That's my fucking captain!"

I chuckled, but damn, if it didn't feel good to get one on the board when the ice had been tilted toward the Freedom most of the game. If we could play solid defense for the rest of regulation while Goose continued to stand on his head, as he so often did, then we might just squeak out of this one with a win.

In mid-March, the playoff picture was still muddy for some teams, but the Speed were sitting pretty at the top of the division. Securing that top spot would mean home-ice advantage, so losing to a divisional opponent at this time of year wasn't an option.

The five of us on the shift for the goal scored skated toward the bench, reaching our gloved hands out for a line of fist bumps from our teammates. As I skated the length of the bench, various positive sentiments were thrown out.

"Atta boy, Jenner!"

"Cap made Monroe his bitch!"

"Let's get another one and blow this wide open!"

We all knew that stats didn't matter. The team with more shots didn't automatically win. It was about making the most of quality chances and minimizing mistakes on the ice. The Freedom were clearly outplaying us, but we were the ones with a one-to-nothing lead.

As I rested on the bench while the second line took the center-ice face-off, Maddox tapped me on the head. "Nice read on that, Knight. How's the shoulder?"

"Fine," I gritted out.

Truth be told, the wind-up on the fake slapper had tweaked it, but I didn't want to be pulled from the game. Not when we had a chance to turn the tide and pull out a win.

"Good," my best friend and coach grunted. "Keep it up."

I nodded my agreement before squirting some ice-cold water down the back of my neck to help cool me off and maybe numb the pain until we made it to intermission.

The next time the guys got the puck deep inside our offensive zone, our line went out again.

The Freedom executed a seamless breakout, passing the puck from behind their net to the neutral zone before chipping it deep on the dump and chase. Thankfully, our top defenseman, Wyatt Banks, got there first, slinging the puck up the boards where I skated to gather it and either carry it out or pass to Asher or Braxton if they were already headed into the neutral zone.

My stick blade had barely touched the puck when I heard Braxton scream, "Get down!"

I had just enough time to catch a flash of motion from the corner of my eye, recognizing Freedom defenseman Ian Yates coming at me full force. Normally, that wouldn't bother me; hits were a part of the game, and I'd taken my fair share of them throughout my career. But it was the fact that his skates had already left the ice that made me take notice and follow Braxton's warning without a second thought.

Abandoning the play and the puck at my feet, I dropped like a rock, narrowly missing Yates's flying leap that had him crashing head-first into the glass wall and crumpling onto the ice beside me.

"What the fuck?" I shouted, scrambling to my feet as Yates struggled to get up.

That motherfucker had been gunning for a high hit to the head, and I was damn lucky Braxton had seen it coming in time to warn me to avoid it. With how hard Yates had hit the glass, I would have ended up with a concussion, if not worse. That idiot was lucky he hadn't snapped his own spine playing reckless.

A shudder ran the length of my spine at how close I'd come to a serious injury with a family to care for. Skating to the bench, I needed a minute to get my head straight before I could focus on the game again.

Dropping my forehead to rest against the edge of the boards once I was seated, I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart.

I'm okay.

I ducked, and he missed.

I'm gonna make it home to Evie in one piece tonight.

Maddox's voice spoke from behind me. "Jenner, you're done for the night."

Head whipping up, I turned to face him. "Aw, come on. Don't tell me the concussion spotters called down. He didn't even touch me!"

My coach and best friend shook his head. "It's not that. You're about to become a dad."

"What?" I was on my feet instantly, but then fear gripped my heart. "No, it's too soon."

Maddox placed both hands on my shoulders, looking me in the eye. "It's Paige, not Evie."

The air left my lungs in a rush. "Thank God."

The tiniest hint of a smile curved on his lips. "Good luck, man. You're gonna need it."

My teammates moved out of the way so I could rush down the tunnel and strip out of my gear. There was a half-second of hesitation where I debated skipping a shower, but I quickly realized they probably wouldn't let me on a plane if I stunk like sweat and hockey gear.

Scrubbing the stench off me as quickly as possible, I barely took any time to towel off before throwing on my gameday suit, grabbing my phone and wallet, and running out of the arena.

Evie and I were going to become parents tonight.

Given how long it had taken me to get home from New York City, I thought we would already have a baby.

But no, I'd been sitting in this tiny maternity ward waiting room for eight hours without a single update.

I had total faith that Evie had it handled, but that didn't mean I wasn't a nervous wreck. I could respect that I wasn't needed or wanted in that room, but the unknown was killing me.

The longer this dragged on, the more I began to worry.

Was Paige okay? Was the baby?

Had a complication arisen, and no one saw fit to tell me?

How was Evie holding up? Was she making sure to eat and rest as she helped support Paige?

There were too many variables, too many things that could go wrong.

Needing to expel nervous energy, I began to pace.

Ironically, I hadn't gotten the medical attention I needed for my shoulder due to my abrupt departure from the game, and the muscles had locked up during the two-hour flight home. I hissed, trying to roll it as I carved a path through the square room—back and forth, back and forth.

"Is there a Jenner Knight in here?" My head whipped around to discover a nurse in pink scrubs at the entryway to the waiting room.

"That's me," I called out.

A rush of emotion hit me when I saw her smile brightly as I stepped forward. "There's someone who's ready to meet you."

I nearly sank to my knees as relief crashed over me. Pressing my hand to my chest, I dared to ask, "Did everything go okay?"

The nurse nodded. "Birth mom and adoptive mom and baby girl are all doing great."

"Thank God," I breathed out.

"If you want to follow me, I can take you to them now."

Nodding, I fell into step beside her. "That would be great."

We came to a stop outside a room with a pink placard affixed to the door reading: It's a Girl! The nurse gestured for me to enter. "They're waiting for you."

Taking a deep breath, I forced my feet to move, knowing that my life would never be the same once I crossed that threshold.

A curtain divided the space, and from the other side, I could hear a soft cooing I knew was coming from my wife. My heart exploded when I pushed the fabric aside to find Evie rocking back and forth, a tiny bundle of blankets resting in her arms. She'd never looked more beautiful, holding our daughter to her chest, the swell of her belly where our sons rested now impossible to ignore.

It was crazy to think that we hadn't known she was pregnant only six weeks ago, and now she was sporting quite the baby bump. It was like our boys had decided one day to make their presence known. And to think they'd only be a few months behind their big sister in their arrival.

"Hey," I said softly around the lump in my throat.

Brilliant but tired purple eyes peeked up, and a smile formed on Evie's face. "Hey. You wanna come meet your daughter?"

I nodded but held up a finger. "Yeah. In a second."

Instead of stepping toward my wife, I went to the bedside of the teenage girl who had given us the world. Paige had the tiniest hint of a smile on her face as I approached, but she didn't lift her head from the pillows.

We'd spent some time together in the past month as we prepared for this moment, so I didn't think twice about smoothing some stray hair pieces from her face. "How are you, sweetheart?"

Her blue eyes slid closed, and she whispered, "Tired."

I fought back a chuckle. "I'll bet."

"She did so good, Jenner," Evie remarked, still rocking our baby girl. "She was so brave."

"I'm so proud of you both." Paige's eyes opened, and I gripped her hand, resting above the blankets. "And if I forget to tell you a million times over during the next several years, Paige, thank you."

"No, thank you," Paige countered. "You're going to give her such a beautiful life."

"I hope so." I wasn't sure if I'd said the words aloud or if they were a prayer. "Rest now. We can visit later when you're stronger, okay?"

Her head bobbed lazily as her lips parted on a sigh, and she fell asleep before my eyes.

"Jenner?"

Turning, I walked toward my wife. When I reached where she stood, I held my breath, hand reaching up as I pulled the blankets away to catch the first glimpse of our daughter's tiny face.

My palm flew to my chest, where my heart threatened to burst free of my ribcage. This was better than any adrenaline rush I'd ever experienced.

"She's perfect." I dared to reach out and graze her soft pink cheek with my fingertip.

"Counted all her fingers and toes myself," Evie teased. "I know that's usually the dad's job, but you'll get your chance soon enough."

"Yeah." I huffed out a laugh at the reminder that our family was far from complete.

"You want to hold her?"

Suddenly nervous, I shifted on my feet. "Uh, yeah, sure." When Evie offered me our daughter, I halted her. "Other arm." I extended the crook of my left elbow.

Eyebrow raised, she asked, "What happened?"

I shrugged with my good shoulder. "Took a hard check into the boards. Didn't have time for treatment since I got pulled off the bench to come home. I'm sure I'll be fine once the trainers get their hands on me. Can't have anything keeping me from snuggling with this little cutie pie."

Evie eyed the injured arm. "Maybe sit down first, yeah?"

"Good idea. You come sit with me. I don't even want to know how long you've been on your feet tonight."

The sassy woman I married rolled her eyes at me. "It's morning, in case you haven't noticed."

"Oh, I noticed. I was the one watching time tick by at a snail's pace all damn night." I gestured to the bench seating along the wall of the room, making sure she was settled before taking a seat myself.

There was an awkward little exchange on the handoff, but a warm, feather-light weight settled in my arms, and my world shifted on its axis. This baby girl was completely dependent on me—on us—to care for her, to cherish and guide her for the rest of her life. The responsibility I now carried was heavy, but I welcomed it.

Years of struggle and heartbreak had brought us here. We were finally a family.

Evie beamed down at the baby in my arms. "Look at her, sleeping like an angel."

"Beautiful. Just like her mama." I moved my head enough to brush my lips over hers. Hammering the point home, I said, "You're a mom, Evie."

Eyes filling with tears, she nodded, pressing her forehead to mine. "Still can't quite believe it."

"This little one is going to know so much love. Because she was so very wanted."

Pulling back slightly, Evie's violet eyes lit up. "I forgot the best part!" Even in her excitement, she kept her voice soft, mindful of our newborn and the girl who'd given birth to her both asleep in the room.

Smirking, I teased, "If this is your oh wait, there's more moment, I think we already have that covered with the twins."

Evie raised a hand to shift the knit pink cap covering our daughter's head, revealing a tuft of strawberry-blonde hair.

"Paige was right. She's a little redhead," Evie declared.

Unable to stop myself, I dipped my head, placing a soft kiss atop the baby's head. "Hope."

"What?"

Locking eyes with my wife, I repeated the word. "Hope. I think that should be her name."

Stunned, Evie blinked at me. "You do?"

"Maybe there was a reason we ran through those baby name books a million times and never managed to narrow our choices down to have a shortlist. Because deep down, I already knew what her name was."

"Why Hope?"

Even though it hurt like hell, I reached my free arm across my torso to cup Evie's face, stroking over the skin of her cheek with my thumb. "Because that's what she represents. That you never gave up hope of one day becoming a mom. Even when we were apart, it remained your driving force until we reached this very moment, with our daughter held safely in my arms."

Lip trembling, Evie whispered, "Hope. Yeah. I like it."

"Welcome to the world, Hope Knight," I whispered to our daughter.

The sleeping infant had no idea that she'd changed our lives. Not only that, she'd saved our marriage, a task which I had once written off as impossible.

Hope was the ultimate symbol of our new beginning and bright future.