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gio

L ife is good.

Damn good .

The sex is amazing. Austin and I have so much fun together.

She and my sister get along. The dog has stopped growling at me and has now started letting me pet him.

Work is great .

Finally—we’re fucking winning and it’s all thanks to my good luck charm.

I home in on the forward as he skates toward me, the puck bouncing back and forth between his stick as he skillfully maneuvers through my defensemen. His movements are sharp, fluid—too damn smooth. My muscles tighten, every nerve in my body screaming to react.

Focus .

That word beats in my head like a war drum. I shift my weight slightly, my stick angled down, blocking the tiniest opening. The crowd roars as the forward gets closer, cutting sharply left. My heart pounds in time with their chants.

He shoots.

Instinct kicks in .

My glove snaps up, catching the puck mid-air like it’s second nature. The play ends, and the horn blares, signaling the end of the period.

I skate out of the goal box, chest heaving as adrenaline courses through me. The crowd goes wild!

I glance over to the spot in the front row, where Austin and my sister will be sitting tonight, setting it in my sights.

Already distracted.

I love seeing Austin so damn much.

Can’t get enough of her…

When we’re done warming up I follow my teammates to the bench, skates cutting sharp lines into the ice. Coach is already shouting, clipboard in hand, giving orders about tightening up defense.

Yeah, yeah, yeah—I’ve heard it all before, not to get cocky.

I nod along but the truth is, I’m riding a high straight into the first period.

My reflexes are sharp.

My confidence is soaring.

We’re up by two, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone close that gap.

I sit on the bench alongside my teammates, pulling a water bottle and taking a long sip, letting the cool water wash away the heat building under my mask.

Coach is yapping away.

As he does, my mind drifts back to those empty seats.

I trust Austin to show—she said she was coming—but the nagging thought that something might have held them up eats at me. It’s not like her to miss the start of a game, not when she’s been so consistent about showing up, screaming her lungs out every time I make a save.

The buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the timeout.

We’re back on the ice, the energy electric as we take our positions; gloves are secure, mask snug.

I block out the noise of the crowd, everything except the puck and the players surrounding it …

My heart pounds as I track the puck— left, right, left . The forward winds up, and I know what’s coming .

The slap shot is hard and fast, but I’m faster. I drop low, my pads taking the brunt of the hit as the puck bounces off and ricochets into the corner. The crowd roars, and I hear my teammates shouting through the thunder.

And then I see them.

My sister and Austin, sidestepping people as they make their way to their seats, bright blue and yellow jerseys on—I couldn’t miss them if I tried.

I grin. “It’s about fucking time.”

I’m fighting for my life here!

Zing!

A puck nearly flies past me, snapping me out of my daydream.

Another forward barrels toward me, stick angled, looking for a rebound shot.

“ Not today, motherfucker .”

My mind clears in an instant, instincts taking over. I crouch low, scanning every movement like a hawk, ready for the next play.

My eyes dart, tracking the puck like a pinball machine.

Twenty feet…

Ten…

Two.

I slide into position just as the puck ricochets off my blocker, bouncing harmlessly into the corner. My teammates swarm it, battling to clear the zone. The crowd roars, but all I hear is my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.

Another period goes by.

Then the beginning of the third.

Austin stands, clapping, and from here I can see her face lighting up; her fingers go in her mouth, whistling. Next to her, my sister’s holding up a ridiculous sign that reads, GIO = brICK WALL! in giant letters .

“Brick wall?” Goddamn right I am .

My chest puffs out with importance.

The opposing team pulls their goalie for the extra attacker, desperation dripping from every move they make. My defense holds strong, throwing their bodies in front of shots, clearing the puck every chance they get. But it always comes back. Always.

Thirty seconds.

A scramble in front of the net sends the puck flying toward me. I drop low, my pads sealing off the bottom of the net as the shot deflects off my leg and bounces out. My stick lashes out, sending it toward the boards.

Ten seconds.

The puck clears the zone, and time seems to slow as it slides, untouched, toward their empty net. The buzzer blares before it even crosses the line.

We’ve won.

Fuck yeah, we did—my good luck charm is here.

As the team rushes toward me in celebration, sticks clattering against the ice, helmets knocking into mine, I glance up at the stands, starting my skate over to my sister and Austin and two things happen at once:

She’s holding a sign, but it’s not the sign Nova had.

She is not smiling.

My momentum slows, the elation of the win crashing into confusion as I focus on her. The bright yellow poster in her hands has big, blocky letters that I can just make out as she lowers it slightly.

GIO.

I AM PREGNANT.

The words hit me like a slap shot straight to the chest. My skates falter for a moment, and I nearly lose my balance. My stick drops to the ice, forgotten, as my eyes dart from the sign to Austin's face.

She isn't smiling.

Not even a little .

The team is still swarming around me, celebrating, shouting, patting my back, but it all feels distant, muffled, like I’m underwater. I can’t look away from her. From the sign. From the sheer seriousness etched across her face.

“Gio, you good?” one of my teammates asks, smacking me on the back of the helmet.

“Yeah, I…” My voice trails off as I glance at him, then back at the stands. “I need a second.”

I skate toward the boards, my legs heavy, my heart pounding in my chest. Austin doesn’t move. She stands there, gripping the sign like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. Nova looks as if she’s trying not to laugh, arms crossed as she stands next to Austin like a mama bear.

Daring me to skate away.

Clearly, she knew about this.

When I reach them, Austin’s eyes meet mine—I can see the fear hidden behind her usual self-assurance.

I unhook my helmet, pulling it up so she can see my face. “Austin,” I breathe. “Is this for real?”

I know she can’t hear the words coming out of my mouth, but I’m certain she can understand me.

She nods.

Yes.

The air feels like it’s been knocked out of me. My grip tightens on the boards as I try to steady myself, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it might explode. She doesn’t break eye contact, her usual confidence flickering just beneath the surface of her fear.

Nova leans toward her, muttering something I can’t hear, and Austin’s grip on the sign falters before she clutches it tighter.

I AM PREGNANT .

Bold. Bright.

Not a joke…

PREGNANT.

Holy shit.

I can’t get to her.

Can’t do anything.

My brain is short-circuiting, the enormity of her words crashing over me like a wave. But my body knows what it needs to do, even if my head doesn’t. My glove goes up, instinctive, pressing against the plexiglass between us.

Austin’s eyes soften, and for a moment, everything else falls away—the noise, the crowd, the game, even Nova’s soft smile.

It’s just us .

Her hand hesitates, then rises to meet mine on the other side of the glass.

I want to say something, to do something, but all I can manage is a single word that barely escapes my lips: “Okay.”

She nods, understanding more than my voice can convey.

We’re okay.

The moment is over in a nanosecond.

My teammates are already skating toward the center of the ice, the coach shouting something about sportsmanship from the bench. I know I have to go.

If I don’t, I’ll catch hell for it later.

I glance back at Austin one more time. Her hand lingers on the glass as I drop mine and skate backward, keeping my eyes on her as long as I can.

Nova is saying something to her now, enveloping her in a side hug, both of them watching me; the fear in Austin's expression is replaced by something softer.

Hope?

Shit, I don’t know.

At the center of the ice, I shake hands with the opposing goalie, who’s saying something about a great game. I nod, moving my lips to say the words but nothing comes out—I am miles away.

My glove feels heavy where it touched the glass, like her touch is still there, singeing my fingers.

We’re okay.

As the formalities wrap up and I head back to the locker room, my thoughts are racing, my pulse pounding in my ears. What happens next?

I’m not running from this. From her.

Holy fuck.

A baby?

My mind is fucking mush as I step off the ice…

My legs feel unsteady—not from the game—but the weight of what just happened. This is insane!

A baby.

The thought is as overwhelming as it is exhilarating, and I can’t keep my feet from moving faster.

Shoving past my teammates, most of whom are trying to slap my back in congratulations, I ignore the chatter in the locker room as I head straight through it.

Still on my skates, I don’t bother unstrapping anything, don’t bother stopping.

Some of them start yelling.

They think I’ve lost my goddamn mind but I have one destination in my sights:

Austin.

I have to get to her.

I can’t leave her sitting there alone—after a normal game I could be here for hours, post-game massage, ice plunges, all that shit…

The heavy metal door slams open as I burst into the corridor leading toward the stands.

My chest heaves, my breath catches in the tight space of my throat .

I’m moving fast, the blades of my skates scraping against the concrete, but I couldn’t give a shit.

Everyone is watching in stunned silence. Out of my peripheral view I notice several fans beginning to get their phones out, holding them to film me…

I move toward section 107.

Lingering fans part like the sea, stepping aside as I barrel through without slowing down. The yellow glow of the sign still lingers like a ghost in my mind, bold and bright, impossible to forget. I AM PREGNANT. It flashes behind my eyes with every step, like a neon warning light.

When I reach her section, Austin is exactly where I left her —still standing, still clutching the crumpled sign in her hands. Her face is flushed, and her eyes widen as she sees me approach, a mix of relief and anxiety flickering across her features.

Nova’s saying something to her, her hand resting lightly on Austin’s arm, but Austin’s focus is completely on me.

The moment I’m close enough, I reach out, pulling her down the last couple of steps and into my arms.

“I can’t believe you came out here,” she breathes, her voice shaking.

“Of course I did,” I say, my voice rough with emotion. “What the hell did you expect me to do?”

Go about my business like she didn’t drop a bomb?

Her hands grip the collar of my jersey as she stares up at me, the noise of the arena fading into the background. People are gathering around.

Murmuring.

Cheering, even.

“I don’t know,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t sure what you’d do.”

I glance down at the crumpled sign still clutched in her hand, shaking my head with a disbelieving laugh.

“You weren’t sure?” I ask. “Austin, you put it on a damn poster. ”

Typical.

Her lips twitch, but she doesn’t smile. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“This will do it.” I just can’t fucking believe it. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say “ how can you be pregnant? It’s only been a few weeks… ” but I’m not an idiot. Instead I say, “Leave it to you to make it a public roasting.”

“Would you have preferred a text?” she shoots back, the smallest flicker of her usual sarcasm cutting through the tension.

That makes me smile, despite everything. “No. This was on brand.”

I brush a strand of hair from her face, my gloved hand awkward but careful. “You’re so fucking lucky I didn’t have a heart attack in the middle of the ice.”

The crowd around us is growing exponentially.

Someone yells, “ Get a room!” and I shoot them a glare, ready to snap back, but someone beats me to it.

“Go fuck yourself, she’s pregnant!” a voice shouts from somewhere behind me, sharp and unapologetic. The comment earns a ripple of laughter and cheers from the gathering fans, and I can’t help the stunned snort that escapes me.

I grab the sign. “She’s pregnant!”

Hold it up over my head, much to the delight of the fans.

“My girlfriend is pregnant!”

The arena erupts.

Applause, whistles, and chants of "Gio! Gio! Gio!" ring out from the growing crowd. People are standing on the seats now, desperate for a decent view of us—clapping and stomping their feet like I’ve just scored the game-winning goal in overtime.

Phones are out everywhere, capturing this moment that’s bound to go viral in minutes.

Everyone is so bloody stoked .

Austin covers her face with both hands, shoulders shaking—not from tears, but from embarrassed laughter .

“Oh my God,” she groans through her fingers. “This is insane.”

I turn to the fans and wave the sign one last time for good measure. The cheers grow louder, a deafening roar that reverberates through the arena.

Ha ha. “Get used to it.”

She’s wearing a jersey over a blue hoodie, all of it three sizes too big on her…but that doesn’t stop my eyes from trailing downward, to her stomach.

It’s instinctive, automatic, like my brain is trying to catch up with the reality of what’s happening. There’s no bump yet—of course, there isn’t—but knowing what’s coming… it’s enough to send another shock wave through my chest.

My kid is in there .

My kid.

Holy shit.

Austin peeks through her fingers, catching the direction of my gaze. Her embarrassed laughter softens, her hands falling to her sides.

“What?” she asks, her voice quieter now, uncertain.

“Nothing,” I say quickly, shaking my head and meeting her eyes again. “Just a lot to take in.”

Her lips curve into a small, understanding smile. “Tell me about it.”

Yeah—I’m sure she was as surprised as I am.

Maybe even more so.

The crowd is still buzzing around us, voices blending into a dull roar, but I don’t hear them anymore. All I can focus on is her—on the way her hands fidget with the hem of her hoodie, on the way she’s looking at me like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It doesn’t.

I step closer, leaning down until our foreheads almost touch.

“We’ve got this,” I tell her, my voice steady despite the chaos swirling around us. “Okay? ”

Her eyes search mine, and after a moment, she nods. “Okay.”

My hands move to her face and I cup her chin, tilting it up.

Press my lips against her lips…

Her hands grip the front of my jersey, holding me close as if the world might pull us apart. Her lips are soft and warm, and for a moment, everything—every doubt, every fear—melts away. It’s just her, just me, and the quiet promise in this kiss.

When I finally pull back, her eyes flutter open, her cheeks flushed and her breath shaky. “What was that for?” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the distant murmur of the crowd.

I grin, my forehead still resting against hers. “For being amazing,” I say. “And for being brave enough to do this tonight.” In this way.

Seriously.

Wow.

She has serious lady balls.

Behind us, Nova claps loudly, breaking the moment. “Finally!” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I was starting to think you’d never kiss her.”

I ignore my sister.

Roll my eyes, stepping back just enough to lace my fingers with Austin’s. “You ready to get out of here?”

“Yes,” she says, exasperated but smiling now. “Please.”

I slide my arm around her waist, and before she can utter a single word of protest, I sweep her off her feet—literally. In full hockey gear, skates scraping against the concrete, I lift her like she weighs nothing, cradling her against my chest.

Austin lets out a startled squeak, her hands flying to grip my shoulders as I hold her securely.

“Gio!” she shrieks, her voice half-laugh, half-protest. “What are you doing? You’re going to drop me!”

“Are you kidding me? You’ve seen my arms,” I boast as I shift her closer, holding her tightly against me. “This is the safest place you could be. ”

What am I doing?!

“Put me down!” She laughs. “I can walk.”

“Hell no. I’m carrying my pregnant girlfriend to the car!” I holler to everyone as my skates scrape against the concrete steps, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. “You’ve had enough excitement for one night. Let me take care of you.”

Austin, on the other hand, buries her face in my neck, groaning.

“This is so embarrassing!”

“Embarrassing?” I echo, my tone teasing. “This is romantic ! This is the kind of thing people write love stories about.”

“This is the kind of thing that goes viral,” she counters, though the faint smile tugging at her mouth tells me she’s not as mad as she’s pretending to be.

Austin looks pretty pleased with herself.

“So what if it does?” I say, my voice dropping to something softer, something for her ears only . “Let the whole world see how much I’m falling in love with you.”

Through the commotion I don’t miss the intake of her breath, her eyes widening as the words hang between us. I see the shift in her expression, the way her defenses crumble piece by piece until all that’s left is the raw, unfiltered connection between us.

“ What did you just say to me in front of all these people ?”

Okay. Now I can’t tell if she’s horrified or stunned.

“Yeah!” Nova’s voice booms over the noise, entirely too amused. “What did you just say?! Say it louder!”

Nova is such a pain in the ass sometimes.

But the fans are familiar with her and the crowd around us cheers louder at her pronouncement, egging her on. I shake my head but don’t break eye contact with Austin, not even for a second.

I dip my head, brushing my lips against her temple in the briefest, gentlest kiss.

“She heard me,” I murmur softly, just for her, finally at the top of the steps .

Austin’s eyes close for a moment, her shoulders sagging as her grip on my jersey tightens.

Nova, of course, can’t let a moment this good slip away.

“Say it louder for those in the back!” she hollers, clapping her hands. “Give us what we want!”

The crowd loves her.

A woman wearing a Seattle jersey—the opposing team tonight— shouts, “This is the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen!” at the same time another voice yells, “Kiss her!”

Austin lets out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. “Your sister is going to haunt me for the rest of my life, isn’t she?”

“I mean. You’re stuck with us both now,” I say, grinning as I tilt her chin up to meet my gaze.

Stuck?

I don’t think so.

I want to be with her—from the second she sat her pretty little ass on that barstool at Five Alarm and started running her mouth at me.

I knew.

“For at least the next eighteen years,” she teases.

At least .