Page 33

Six months later

I lean forward in my seat as my brother-in-law, Lucas Hilton slams Oliver into the boards, but not before he sends the puck flying to Carver. My heart pounds as Carver weaves through the defense, his movements fluid and precise.

“Go baby!” I shout, jumping to my feet.

Beside me, Freya rubs her swollen belly. “Careful, you’ll make me need to pee again with all your jumping around.”

“Everything makes you need to pee,” Holly laughs, bouncing her little girl on her knee.

Down by the ice, Jagger waves frantically from his spot next to Parker. My chest warms at the sight of my son decked out in his LA Raiders jersey with “PARKER” emblazoned across the back .

I press my hand on my lips and blow him a kiss.

The crowd roars as Carver passes to Reynolds, who’s recently been moved up from defense. He passes to Oliver and the Bears’ captain charges him.

He spins away, sending the puck straight into the net.

“That’s my alpha!” I scream, not caring how many New York fans glare at me.

“God, I miss this energy,” Holly sighs. “The Bears haven’t been the same since Colton transferred to Chicago. Why the hell did you get him that deal?”

“He asked if I could find any interest in him.”

Holly sighs. “He lost himself when Carver went. Stanton tried to get him to stay but—”

“It’s only a temporary transfer. I know he misses New York. But money talks and I’ve had a few teams contact me about him.”

Holly smiles. “I’ll get Aiden to contact you.”

“Speaking of alphas,” Freya shifts uncomfortably as she turns to her friend Holly, “there are so many here. How did you not go crazy living in New York?”

“I moved to New York to find an alpha,” Holly tells Freya. “You should have come with me when I asked you.”

“I’ll never find an alpha.” Freya rubs her hand over her growing baby bump. “But once this one is here, I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll find your alpha. Maybe a pack.” I squeeze her hand. “Yes, New York is alpha heaven and full of potential mates. But look where I found mine.”

Freya gives me a pained smile as the buzzer for this period blares throughout the stadium .

I excuse myself from Holly and Freya and make my way down to find Asher. He’s usually tucked away in the physio room during breaks, waiting for any injuries.

I find him with Oliver stretched out on the table, grimacing. “I swear it’s getting worse.”

Asher’s skilled hands work over Oliver’s abdomen. “Maybe because you ate an entire cake for supper last night?”

“Hey, that was quality carb loading.” Oliver spots me and grins. “Or maybe I’m getting sympathy pains. You’re not pregnant, are you Harlow?”

I laugh. “Definitely not.”

“It’s the cake,” Asher confirms, pressing firmly on a spot that makes Oliver wince. “Or appendicitis.”

“Some athlete you are,” Carver drawls, appearing behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. “Get off the bed.”

“At least I score goals,” Oliver retorts with a smirk as he shuffles until his feet hit the floor.

“Get back to the ice!” Parker yells from the doorway. “Now!”

I break away from Carver to give Parker a quick peck on his cheek.

Jagger tugs on my sleeve. “Mommy, did you see me wave? I was jumping so high!”

I ruffle his hair. “I saw you, baby.”

Oliver and Carver file past, each dropping a kiss on my cheek as they head for the ice.

“Watch with me?” I ask Asher, who’s packing away his supplies.

He takes my hand as we head to the viewing area. “Always.”

We stand close together, his thumb tracing circles over the claiming mark on my wrist as we watch the Bears surge forward. The crowd groans as my other brother-in-law, Stanton Adams, the captain of the New York Bears, scores, leveling the game .

The crowd go wild. Chanting ' New York, New York' over the air.

“They’re getting cocky,” Asher murmurs against my ear.

I reach out and grip the railing, my knuckles white as another of the New York Bears slams into Oliver, sending him spinning. The puck rockets across the ice, players from both teams diving and scrambling for control.

“Come on, come on,” I mutter, watching Carver intercept a pass.

The crowd surges to their feet as he weaves between defenders, the puck dancing on his stick.

A Bear catches him with his shoulder, but Carver stays upright, muscles straining as he fights through.

My eyes dart to the jumbotron - only three minutes left in the third period. The score is even, but the Bears are looking stronger than our team. They definitely have the edge.

“Send them positive energy through the bond,” Asher whispers in my ear, his chest pressed against my back.

“Such as what?”

“Give them what they need. A baby. You know how much they want it.”

My heart flutters. “But only if they win the game,” I tell Asher.

“If they win, will you?”

I meet his gaze, seeing the hope in his eyes.

“How do I send that through the bond?”

“Send a promise. Love.” His teeth scrape over his bottom lip. “Think about a baby as you do it.”

Through our pack bond, I push the promise to all my alphas - a baby if they win.

And the effect is instant .

Oliver bursts forward with renewed energy, stealing the puck mid-pass. Carver’s movements become sharper, more focused as he positions himself near the goal.

Parker turns from his spot by the bench, flashing me a knowing grin that makes my cheeks heat.

Asher’s arms tighten around me. “Look what you did.”

My heart aches with so much pride and love.

My alphas now move with deadly precision on the ice, fighting for more than just a game now.

My knuckles are aching, I’m grasping the bar so tight.

“Go for it, Oliver.”

My eyes dart between the clock and the ice.

Two minutes left.

The Bears are getting desperate, their movements becoming more aggressive.

My heart stops as number forty-seven charges straight for Carver. The hit sends him crashing into the boards with a sickening thud.

Through our bond, I feel a flash of pain that makes me gasp.

Carver knows I feel it, and anger replaces it, then quickly it turns to calm.

“He’s okay,” Asher murmurs, but his grip on me tightens.

Carver pushes off the boards and slams forty-seven back, harder.

The crowd erupts, screaming at the ref, who simply waves to play on.

My fingers dig into Asher’s arm as I watch Carver’s jaw clench, that familiar ice-cold focus taking over.

One minute and thirty seconds left on the clock.

Oliver controls the puck now, weaving through defenders like they’re standing still. My breath catches as Carver swings wide around the net, a move I’ve seen countless times during our New York days .

“Come on, come on,” I whisper, my whole body trembling with anticipation.

Oliver inches closer to the net, drawing the defenders in. But his eyes flick to Carver.

He knows.

They both know.

The puck slides across the ice, a perfect pass. Carver spins, his stick connecting in one fluid motion.

And like I’ve seen so many times before, the puck hits the back of the net.

The buzzer blares.

I’m screaming, jumping into Asher’s arms as the crowd surges to their feet.

Through our bond, I feel their triumph, their joy, their love—all of it crashing over me in waves that make my knees weak.

“They did it,” I whisper, leaning back into Asher’s embrace.

“I think you did it,” he murmurs in my ear.