Page 46 of In My Hockey Era (Must Love Hockey #1)

THE BEST PLOT TWIST

Bennett

I ’ve never been more exhausted. Never been more overwhelmed. Never been more freaking wrecked —in the best possible way.

I stare down at the tiny, pink, wrinkly human swaddled in my arms, my heart so full it might actually burst. Our son. My son. A seven-pound, dark-haired, already stubborn little miracle who came into the world screaming and immediately stole whatever was left of my heart.

My hands shake as I tighten my hold on him, keeping his tiny body close to my chest. I’m a big, clumsy, hockey player with hands built for gripping sticks and throwing punches—not for holding something as impossibly small and perfect as this .

But the second he was placed in my arms? It was over for me.

“Hey, buddy,” I whisper, my voice thick. “You are so damn lucky your mom is the strongest, most incredible woman on the planet.”

Lucy, exhausted but absolutely glowing, lets out a breathless laugh from her hospital bed. “I did just push out a human,” she mutters, head against the pillow, eyelids heavy. “I’d say I deserve at least a little credit.”

I turn toward her, swallowing hard. She looks so beautiful , even after hours of labor, hair messy, cheeks flushed, eyes barely open. I want to say something profound, tell her how much I love her, how proud I am, how she just gave me the greatest gift in the entire world.

But the words won’t come.

Instead, I just lean down and kiss her forehead, lingering there as my throat tightens.

She shifts a little, reaching out, and I gently place our son in her arms.

She sighs softly, gazing down at him with so much love it nearly knocks me sideways.

“Hey, little guy,” she whispers, running her finger over his impossibly tiny hand. “Welcome to the world.”

His fingers curl around hers instinctively, and I swear, I’m done for.

I rub my chest, trying to ease the ache there. “I’m gonna go tell everyone.”

Lucy grins up at me. “Brace yourself. Your mom is going to sob .”

I chuckle, but she’s not wrong.

I press a kiss to her temple, then my son’s forehead, before forcing myself to pull away and head for the waiting room.

The second I step through the doors, I’m ambushed.

My mom gasps the second she sees my face. “Bennett. . ”

“He’s here?” my dad asks, jumping up from his chair.

Lucy’s dad and brothers are already on their feet, their expressions a mix of relief and excitement.

I swallow hard, my voice coming out rough. “Yeah,” I manage. “He’s here.”

And jeez —I don’t even make it through the next sentence before my throat locks up and my vision blurs.

My mom’s already crying, clutching my dad’s arm, and Connor—Lucy’s older brother—claps a hand on my shoulder, grinning.

“You good, man?”

I let out a choked laugh. “No. Not even a little.”

They all laugh, but I know they see it—how completely wrecked I am.

“Lucy’s doing great,” I add quickly. “And he’s—he’s perfect.”

The guys nod, my mom wipes her eyes, and I exhale, running a hand over my face. “I need to get back in there.”

I don’t even wait for a response before I turn and head back toward the room, my chest still tight, my hands still shaking.

When I step inside, Lucy’s sitting up a little more, looking down at our son like he’s the only thing that’s ever mattered.

And maybe— maybe —she’s right.

I cross the room in three long strides and kiss her, long and deep, my fingers threading through her hair.

She hums against my lips, her free hand fisting in my shirt, like she needed this as much as I did.

“I love you,” I murmur, voice shaky.

Her lips twitch. “I just gave birth to your child. You better love me.”

I let out a hoarse chuckle, brushing my thumb over her cheek. “You did so good, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.”

She swallows, nodding slightly. “I know.”

I laugh softly, because of course she knows.

We settle into a comfortable silence, both of us staring down at the tiny human we somehow created.

“I can’t believe he’s real,” she whispers.

“Me neither.”

She sighs, shifting against the pillows. “Hell of a year, huh?”

I huff a quiet laugh. “Yeah. It really has been.”

The past twelve months? Absolutely insane.

A wedding in the Bahamas. Just us, our families, and a private beach where she officially became mine forever.

Lucy stepping away from emergency medicine, finally finding a balance—taking a job with the Stampede’s marketing team, running her podcast full-time, thriving .

A honeymoon in Switzerland, hiking the Swiss Alps, getting caught in a storm, staying in some tiny, candlelit cabin where we barely left the bed.

A Christmas card, mailed to all our friends and family with me, Luce, and our pups Max and Waffles wearing festive holiday sweaters—ridiculous, but also somehow perfect.

Finding out she was pregnant. Watching her belly grow, feeling our son kick against my palm for the first time.

And now?

Now, we’re here.

Parents.

Still a little reckless, still figuring things out, still us —but somehow better .

She shifts slightly, nudging me with her elbow. “So… I do have to ask.”

I smirk. “Oh boy.”

“Are you still jealous of Waffles?”

I groan, tipping my head back. “Unbelievable. I bring you a child , and you’re still bringing up the dog?”

She grins. “I just think it’s funny.”

“It’s not funny.”

“Bennett. You literally glared at him every time I snuggled him for, like, the first three months.”

“I did not .”

“You did .”

I exhale sharply, rubbing my jaw. “Fine. I was jealous.”

She grins. “Knew it.”

I shake my head, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and tugging her in close, careful not to jostle the baby.

“Well,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Guess I’ll just have to get used to this guy stealing all my attention now.”

Lucy smiles, shifting so our son is tucked between us, her fingers brushing over his tiny, curled-up fist.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “But you’ll always be my favorite.”

I tilt her chin up, kissing her softly. “Damn right I will.”

She rolls her eyes but melts into me anyway, and I just hold her there, our son sleeping between us, our future stretched out before us.

It’s been a wild ride.

But I wouldn’t change a single thing.

Because Lucy?

She’s still my favorite plot twist.

And now?

We’re writing the best damn story yet.

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