Page 15

15

LAUREL

“Hey,” Dustin called out in a rush, his voice a little breathless as he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, already halfway out the door. The urgency in his movements spoke volumes—tonight’s game was important, and tomorrow, they were flying out to Seattle for their first away game of the season. It was a big deal.

He had offered to fly them out there, knowing how much it would mean for Laurel to be there in the stands, cheering for him. But the logistics had felt overwhelming—little privacy, the chaotic rush of the airport, the scramble to get back before the team’s schedule picked up again. In the end, she had decided to stay behind, and he understood. He always understood.

“I put the plates on the cars, and I’ve got to get going,” he said, his tone quick but warm, his love for them stitched into every syllable even as he moved with practiced efficiency. “Do you mind meeting me at the arena?”

“Never,” Laurel replied, smiling softly as he leaned in for a swift kiss, his lips brushing against hers with a familiarity that made her heart squeeze.

Then, without warning, Dustin lunged at Kendall, catching the preteen in a playful tackle. The shriek that left her mouth was half outrage, half delight, and she struggled in his grasp, laughing wildly as she tried to wriggle free.

“And you—” he ruffled Kendall’s hair with exaggerated roughness, his teasing voice warm with affection, “study the moves on the ice. First practice is next month, and Boucher is a tough coach…”

“Are you serious?” Kendall gasped, her eyes widening.

“Do I look serious?” he shot back before contorting his face into an absolutely ridiculous expression—his nose pushed up, one eye pulled down, his tongue sticking out like some kind of deranged cartoon character.

Kendall recoiled in exaggerated horror, turning toward Laurel with a look of pure betrayal. “You boink that? Seriously?”

Laurel bit her lip, trying to suppress the laughter bubbling in her chest. She and Dustin exchanged a knowing glance, the silent understanding between them saying everything.

They had learned over time that Kendall, with all her sharp wit and barbed humor, lashed out the most when she felt insecure. If they didn’t feed into her jabs, if they let them roll off their backs, she softened. Bit by bit, she became more like the child she should have been—playful, happy, and, in rare moments, vulnerable.

Dustin didn’t answer her; he just winked at Laurel, leaned in for another kiss—this one slower, lingering just a second longer than necessary—and whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her skin.

“Every chance I get…”

A shiver ran through her, and she flushed, swatting at his chest playfully. “Get out of here and work on your warmups,” she scolded lightly, though the affection in her voice was unmistakable. “I don’t want you getting hurt on the ice.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He smirked, stepping back toward the door. “See ya, wife…”

“See ya, husband…”

The atmosphere around the kitchen was warm, the kind that settled deep into your bones and made you feel safe, like home. Laurel soaked it in, committing the moment to memory. These little pockets of happiness, of togetherness, were the kind of thing treasured in her relationship with Dustin.

“Y’all are nauseating,” Kendall declared the moment the front door was shut, though the teasing in her voice softened the words. She perched at the table in her oversized hockey jersey, her long braid secured with a flashy blue glitter ribbon that shimmered under the kitchen lights. The ribbon proudly bore the number thirteen—Dustin’s number.

Laurel smiled, glancing at the girl who had grown so much in the past year. “Let’s finish up here and head to the arena,” she suggested, brushing a stray crumb off the counter. “I want to meet up with Constance, Jeannie, Irene, Jamie, and some of the others. It’s so much fun having friends and growing into one big family.”

“I get it,” Kendall said, her grin widening. “It’s like we’re all figuring out how we fit together, and it’s actually a good thing. There’s no egos, no snot-nosed bullies, no prima donnas…” She paused for dramatic effect. “Well, except Ashley. She’s a little uppity and?—”

“Kendall!”

“What?” The girl shrugged unapologetically. “Who cares that her husband is the captain? Not me. He’s just a dude, and she’s just another woman who needs some serious eyeliner. What is with you all and not wearing eyeliner?”

Laurel bit back a laugh. “You don’t wear eyeliner.”

“I’m twelve,” Kendall deadpanned. “I would if I could.”

“Oh?” Laurel hummed knowingly. She stepped toward the sink, bending down to open the cabinet underneath. Hidden behind a row of cleaning supplies—an area Kendall wouldn’t dare investigate—was a small, glossy gift bag. She had tucked it away there days ago, waiting for the right moment. And now, as she pulled it out and turned, she saw Kendall’s sharp hazel eyes widen, her mouth dropping open in stunned silence.

“Are you kidding me?” Kendall’s voice was barely a whisper, her fingers trembling as she reached for the bag.

“Dustin has something for you, too, but you might have to wait for Tuesday for that one,” Laurel said gently. “This… this is just a little something from me.” She exhaled, feeling the weight of the moment settle in her chest. “When I turned thirteen, Mom gave me…”

Kendall sucked in a breath, her entire expression shifting from surprise to something far more fragile. “Oh, Laurel,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. Her fingers curled around the bag, holding onto it like it was something sacred.

Laurel swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Mom called it a ‘big girl gift,’” she murmured, forcing a small smile. “And I wanted to do the same for you.” The air between them was thick with understanding, a love that ran deeper than words. “I know we have a weird relationship because we’re sisters, but I love you. I never want you to think otherwise. And while I never expected to get the phone call that morning about the fire, I’m so glad I’m here with you. I want you to have the same memories I had, to share in what I once experienced. And I want you to know that Mom would be so proud of you right now.”

Kendall pressed her lips together, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. They stood there, frozen in that delicate, painful, beautiful space between grief and love.

Then, in true Kendall fashion, she broke the moment.“She would not be a fan of your dragon boinking,” she choked out, her laughter mixing with her tears.

Laurel barked out a laugh, the sharp sting of sadness fading into something softer.

“No, she wouldn’t,” she admitted, shaking her head. She reached out, pressing a kiss to Kendall’s forehead, holding onto her like she could somehow protect her from the world.

Kendall sniffled, wiping at her eyes. “Do you think she would like Dustin?”

“I know she would,” Laurel whispered, watching as a tear finally slipped down Kendall’s cheek.

“I do, too,” Kendall said, voice thick with emotion. “But just don’t tell the big dork.”

“I won’t.” Laurel smiled, squeezing her shoulders before nodding toward the bag. “Now, are you going to open it sometime this year?”

Kendall nodded quickly, sniffling once more before eagerly pulling out the tissue paper. The moment she saw what was inside, her face lit up in pure delight.

First, a package of delicate golden freckles, the kind that could be pressed onto the skin to give the illusion of sun-kissed beauty. Kendall gasped, running her fingers over them reverently. Next, pink lip gloss, a small bottle of perfume, a tube of blue mascara, and light brown eyeliner—just enough to enhance her features without overpowering her youth.

“Oh, goodness… Laurel,” Kendall whispered, her voice wavering.

“You’re growing up,” Laurel said softly, brushing a curl behind Kendall’s ear. “And we both see what an incredible young lady you’re turning into.” She smiled, her heart swelling with warmth. “I’m happy we can spend more time together, go to the games, and share these moments with our new friends and families.”

“Me too,” Kendall said quickly, surging forward to wrap her arms around Laurel. She clung to her tightly, squeezing with all the strength she had. “I love you.”

Laurel’s breath hitched as she hugged her back, pressing her cheek against Kendall’s head. “I love you too. Now, go get ready, and we’ll head out.”

“I will…” Kendall pulled away, her excitement renewed as she bolted up the stairs, still clutching her new treasures.

Laurel exhaled slowly, pressing her hand against her heart. She glanced down at the counter, a small smile tugging at her lips as she thought about what was to come.

Dustin had thought of everything.

He had planned a little celebration for Kendall at the youth league’s first practice, a way to welcome her into their ever-growing family. He had even gone so far as to buy her a pair of brand-new ice skates, the case embroidered with her initials, because he wanted to support her, to show her she belonged.

Laurel bit her lip, her chest swelling with love for the man she had married. He was thoughtful. He was kind. And he understood, without ever needing to be told, just how much Kendall meant to her.

She loved him—more than she had words for.And she would spend forever showing him just how much.

T wenty minutes later, they entered the private underground garage of the building, and she saw the Lotus was gone. Dustin took his fancy sports car out for a little fun on the way to work.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Kendall pulled open the door to the garage, and Laurel hesitated, her breath catching in her throat. The spacious garage was dimly lit, the overhead lights casting a soft glow over the two Land Rovers parked side by side—pristine, gleaming, identical. But it wasn’t the sight of the luxury vehicles that stopped her in her tracks.

It was the license plates.

Her pulse pounded in her ears as her gaze locked onto them, her entire body freezing as if someone had pressed pause on her world.

PUCKYGUY

GOALM8TS

She blinked, once, twice, as if she wasn’t seeing them correctly. But no—there they were, bold and unmistakable, staring right back at her like a message. Dustin took the Lotus so she could see the two cars beside each other.

“I rest my case… he’s a dork,” Kendall chuckled, but Laurel barely heard her.

Lucky guy. Soulmate.

Both have a hockey twist?

Her stomach flipped. Her hands clenched at her sides as a wave of emotion surged through her, so strong it nearly knocked her off balance. Dustin had done this. He had bought these cars. He had gone out of his way weeks ago to request these plates—plates that weren’t just a cute joke but a declaration.

A declaration of what, though?

Did he really think that?

Her fingers curled against her palms as she tried to process it.

They’d fallen into an easy rhythm—affectionate, close, tangled up in each other in ways she never expected. They’d started sleeping together, acting like a real couple, sharing quiet moments that meant more than she’d ever admitted aloud. But they hadn’t said the words. They hadn’t talked about love.

He’d said he cared.

Caring and loving were two very different things.

A n hour had passed, and Laurel still couldn’t quite wrap her mind around it. Her heart felt too big for her chest, swelling with the weight of what Dustin had done—so quietly, so unassumingly, so long ago. It wasn’t just sweet. It wasn’t just thoughtful. It was him —the man she’d fallen in love with, the man she’d married, the man she’d built her life around without even realizing it.

Seated among the other women and families in the arena, she tried to focus on the conversation swirling around her. They were chatting about the game, about who was going on the upcoming away trip, about their husbands and their relationships. She smiled, nodded, and answered when necessary—but she was careful.

She always was.

She never wanted to cause Dustin any problems, never wanted to put him in an uncomfortable position. She was his confidant, his safe space, and that meant keeping certain things to herself.

Still, as she glanced at Jeannie, she saw the same awareness reflected at her. They were all finding their footing in this strange, new world, figuring out their places, some faster than others.

A sudden hush fell over the group as Kendall let out an excited squeal, practically bouncing in her seat. “Shhhh! They’re coming!”

All at once, the energy in the arena shifted. The lights dropped, plunging the rink into a moment of darkness before brilliant blue beams swirled across the ice. Flashes of red exploded overhead, glittering down like fireworks, dazzling against the cavernous expanse of the arena. The music pulsed, vibrating through the boards beneath their seats, through the very air they breathed. They had fantastic seats—so close to the ice that Laurel could see the cut marks from skates, the way the cold mist rose from the surface.

And then—she hesitated.

The music changed.

This wasn’t the usual intro.

“Watch this,” Jamie said, smacking Laurel’s arm with giddy excitement. “I’m trying something new, and this was your husband’s idea.”

Laurel’s heart stopped.

Dustin? Her Dustin?

Shy, sweet, quiet Dustin—the man who preferred to be in the background, the man who rarely sought attention—was leading the team onto the ice. The entire team skated forward as one before, in perfect synchronization, they removed their helmets, holding their hockey sticks like microphones.

And then?—

They started singing .

Laurel’s jaw dropped.

“Oh, social media is gonna love this,” Jamie laughed, already holding up her phone to record. But Laurel couldn’t tear her gaze away from the ice—from her husband, gliding forward with an ease that belied the raw emotion in his face as he sang.

It wasn’t just any song.

It was for her – and she knew it.

An inspirational love song, one she’d sung to herself a hundred times, one that had carried her through lonely nights and quiet moments of longing. One that meant something, inspired some of her books, and put her mentally in the mood to write something sweet, something emotional.

The team moved like a well-rehearsed symphony, Salas sweeping forward in a wide arc as he took the lead, belting out the next line to Jamie. Then Coeur to Irene, then Savage to Ashley, then Acton—each player adding their own flare, their own energy, their own voices as they sang to their wives.

And then?—

Dustin.

His voice was rich, deep, carrying over the roar of the arena, reaching into her chest and squeezing her heart in his grasp. He skated toward the boards, toward her , his eyes locked onto hers as he sang.

Kendall nudged her. “Go.”

Laurel couldn’t move.

Kendall nudged harder, laughing under her breath. “He’s all right, you know?”

Oh, she knew.

She knew exactly what kind of man he was—knew it in the way he loved her, in the way he protected her, in the way he had always been there, even when she hadn’t realized how much she needed him.

So, she moved.

She stood, making her way down to the boards, her pulse hammering as Dustin slowed in front of her, a boyish smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey, wife,” he murmured, still slightly out of breath.

“Hey, husband,” she whispered back.

His eyes twinkled. “Give me your hand.”

Her breath hitched.

Because the last time he’d asked her that?—

She knew that look.

That teasing, knowing, slightly wicked glint in his eyes. The last time he’d told her to give him her hand, he’d pulled her close, pressed her against the wall, and completely obliterated the axis of her world with a kiss that had left her breathless for hours.

And judging by the flicker of awareness that crossed his face, he knew exactly what she was thinking.His lips curved into a slow, decadent smile.

“That’s for later.”

Oh, mercy .

Still, she lifted her hand.

Dustin frowned, shaking his head. “Other hand.” Confused, she held out her left hand instead.

And then?—

He slid a diamond ring onto her finger.

Her heart stopped .

She stared at it breathlessly, before snapping her gaze to his. “Oh… oh, Dustin. What is this ?”

His expression softened. “I’m so glad you chose me long ago,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “And I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. But I love you, Laurel. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure you know just how incredible you are.”

Her throat tightened.

“You got me a wedding ring?” she choked out.

His smile was warm, tender, filled with the kind of love that made her knees weak. “Married people do that,” he teased. His voice was gentle, but firm—like he needed her to hear it. “You might be my sister’s best friend, but you are married to me . You’re my wife, my life, my soulmate , and I’m so grateful you said ‘yes.’”

She swallowed against the lump in her throat, tears burning at the corners of her eyes.

“Dustin?”

“Yes, love?”

“I love you, too.”

He exhaled, his whole body relaxing, his smile deepening in that way that made her stomach flip.

Before she could say anything else, the roar of approval from the Wolverines exploded through the arena. The team lifted their hockey sticks in the air, a wall of solidarity, camaraderie, and support.

Laurel wiped at her eyes and laughed, nodding toward the rink. “That Stanley Cup is waiting, boys. And we’re not getting there without a win.”

The team erupted in cheers.

Dustin grinned. “You guys heard my wife.” He started to skate backward, his eyes never leaving hers. “Laurel—this one’s for you.”

Then, just before he turned away, he winked.

“Tell Kendall to watch that puck.”

And with that, he was gone, blending back into the team, into the game.

But Laurel just stood there, her heart still racing, her fingers brushing against the new weight on her hand, and knew?—

No matter what happened, no matter where life took them?—

She had already won.