Page 26

JETT

Where you at?

I had a flat tire – don’t worry!

Roadside Assistance is here, and I’m heading to get the tire replaced.

“ Craaaaap ,” Jett muttered, his voice low but sharp with frustration.

The word ripped out of him as he stared down at the glowing text message.

He slammed the phone facedown on the bench beside him, the hollow thud barely audible over the rising hum of pre-game energy vibrating through the locker room.

His heart twisted in two directions at once. Relief that Karen was okay. Frustration that, once again, she wouldn’t be there.

She hadn’t made it to a single Wolverines event yet, not a game – not a cookout – nothing.

And with every excuse—valid or not—it was getting harder not to take it personally.

Flat tire. Sure. It happened. But the little voice in his head—the one that whispered doubt and claims of abandonment at the worst times—kept needling him with the truth: she wasn’t here… again.

Not tonight.

And not for him.

He ran a hand down his face, trying to scrub the disappointment away. They had a beautiful connection, and that was what he needed to focus on.

He loved that woman with an intensity that bordered on insanity.

If she told him she wanted fresh milk, he’d be bringing home a cow.

All she had to do was give him a look or crook her finger, and he was melting like butter.

He hadn’t been joking when he told her the meaning behind the nickname he’d dubbed her.

Life would never be the same now that he’d experienced what loving her could be like.

Outside, the crowd was already building into a frenzy, their energy seeping through the concrete walls, pulsing with anticipation. The announcer’s voice echoed faintly in the distance, signaling it was almost time.

Jett picked up his phone again, hesitating only for a moment before tapping out a reply with fingers that didn’t want to move.

Be safe, and text me when you get home.

XOXO

Will do!

XOXO

He let out a breath, short and unsatisfied like it got stuck in his throat on the way out. He wanted to give her an ‘out’ in case she needed it, a way to reassure her that it was okay if she missed the game because he still cared… and always would.

“Problems?” one of the guys chirped, elbowing him in the ribs like it was funny. Like his heart wasn’t sinking a little lower every time this happened. Jett didn’t even have time to respond before a sharp voice cut through the room.

“Focus, Coeur – we’re here to clean house, and I need everyone at the top of their game,” Savage barked, and his voice cracked like a whip across the tension.

Commanding.

Clear.

No room for debate.

And boy, if Jett didn’t feel pride swell up in his chest. He shoved the phone into the back of his locker, slamming it shut with finality.

Enough.

Karen wasn’t coming.

But his team was here.

His moment was here.

And he wasn’t going to let the ache of disappointment distract him from that. It was almost showtime. Grabbing his helmet, Jett strode forward, planting himself beside Savage, their captain who was finally taking a stand, and let his voice ring out.

“Fellas,” Jett started, lifting his chin and scanning the locker room. His teammates quieted, turning toward him with the kind of expectation that made something inside him snap into place. “Little Liam Savage…”

“Hey!” Savage growled, already defensive.

“Will be from now on addressed as ‘ Captain Savage ,’ which has a nice ring to it,” Jett continued, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Then he pivoted, voice lifting with the perfect dose of arrogance and flair.

“Or you can call him ‘ Barcelona ,’ because he is about to run roughshod over those ‘teeny boys’ out there, just like the running of the bulls in Spain…”

The locker room erupted—cheers, clapping, a few hoots and hollers echoing off the walls like thunder.

Jett didn’t stop. The momentum was too good, the fire catching just right.

“See this?” Jett said, pointing at his bruised chin and catching the subtle freeze of movement from Savage, who was clearly working hard to keep his cool.

“This is what’s gonna happen to them… and we’re gonna deliver it!

Tell us what you want tonight on the ice, Barcelona. We’re listening, right guys?”

“YEAAAAAH!”

Slapping Savage on the shoulder with a firm nod, Jett stepped back, letting the captain take his rightful place. There was no hesitation in Savage now—he moved forward like a general about to lead his troops into battle, barking out strategy, correcting errors, fine-tuning the approach.

Jett stood back, watching, and something in his chest shifted. Pride, yes. But also a bittersweet note of unexpected transition. There hadn’t been direction last two games, even though they had a captain. Everyone kept turning to Boucher, who wouldn’t cross Savage – but Savage wouldn’t speak up.

Well, not anymore.

This was Savage’s moment—and the team was ready to follow. Even Boucher caught his eye with a sideways glance, the kind that said We both know what’s happening here . Jett nodded. The torch that had been passed to Savage had finally been lit—and everyone knew it.

“All right! Let’s get out there and show them who the Wolverines are !” Savage roared, fist-pumping skyward.

The room detonated with energy. Every guy jumped to his feet, gear clattering, shouts, and whoops bouncing off the walls. It was a surge—raw, real, and uncontainable. The sound of the fans beyond the tunnel reached a frenzied pitch. Their team was coming, and they were ready.

Jett tightened his gloves, adjusted his helmet, and fell into line with the others. But even as he moved with the tide of adrenaline, one thought stayed behind like a shadow at the back of his mind.

Karen was missing it.

Again.

Maybe she’d watch it on TV. Maybe he’d return to the locker room afterward, drenched in sweat and victory, and find a handful of texts waiting for him, her excitement captured through a screen instead of from the stands.

But it wasn’t the same.

Jett shook his hands, his weight shifting from one foot to the other.

Everyone had their ‘thing’ to calm them before launching onto the ice in what he called ‘Game Mode.’ Once you were on the ice, it wasn’t about you – but the team.

You were there to be in it, to be present in the game, and to give it your all for a couple of hours.

And let’s welcome our hometown left wing, number thirty… Jett Acton!

He pumped his legs, racing onto the ice with experience, and bolted out there – holding up both hands in expectation.

He wanted that welcoming, that dull roar, to get outta control.

Working the crowd, he vaulted his hockey stick into the air, catching it like he was holding up an Olympic torch, and his eyes were drawn to the side, unexpectedly, and glided completely dumbstruck as he saw Karen standing there.

In his jersey.

His heart flopped wildly in his chest at the sight. He gave a massive push, sending him careening toward his wife instead of taking his place or working the crowd like usual. No, he was focused on the one person that mattered – his wife.

“Hey,” he exclaimed, smiling and yanked off his helmet. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to watch the sexiest player on the ice win this game,” Karen yelled doggedly, her voice hoarse as other women around them started to call out. “How’s this look on me?” – and to his disbelief, she turned to show him their surname on her back.

Over here, Jett!

Can I get your autograph?

Jett! Jett! I wanna have your baby…

And he ignored them all.

They weren’t his beloved Nutella.

“I love you,” he said openly, staring at her. She hadn’t shrugged him off or abandoned him. This wasn’t a case of his father leaving, his family unable to attend because of the distance or scheduling, or anything his insecurity could think up. She was here – for him – and he could see in her eyes.

“I love you too,” Karen replied tenderly, touching his cheek as she gazed at him.

Jett! Up here! I wanna have your baby…

“Oh my gosh,” Jett exclaimed, horrified and embarrassed. Time was passing much too quickly, and they were almost done announcing names. He was going to have to get his rear end in Game Mode.

“Do you know that woman?” Karen asked warily.

“Heck no – and why would I touch garbage when I’ve got my sweet Nutella?”

“That’s my man,” she praised. “I look okay in this? Does it look better on me than that floozy who wants to have your baby?” Karen said dryly, giving him ‘the look’ and lifting an eyebrow… so he did the same.

“There’s only one woman I want to have my baby someday.”

“Win the game,” Karen countered, almost like she was laying down an ultimatum.

Wait a second, was she saying that if they won this game, they would start trying? They’d just finally started sleeping together, they were finally clicking, and he didn’t want to mess things up or throw a wrench in the mix.

“What are you saying?” he asked baldly.

“I’m saying if we are jumping… let’s bungee, husband,” Karen whispered, taking his hand and putting it onto her stomach. “I have your heart, and you have mine. Let’s see where things go from there.”

His heart slammed in his chest with an awareness that was all-encompassing.

“Acton! Let’s go!”

He couldn’t tear his eyes from her – and Karen was strong enough for the both of them. She leaned forward, gave him a quick kiss, and patted his cheek. “Put your helmet on. I like your pretty face…”

And he laughed, backing away and shoving his helmet on his head.

“This win is for you, Wife!” he yelled out to Karen – and the crowd went wild.

Karen’s face was illuminated with a light from the inside that shone from her like a beacon. He loved that woman, cherished the fact that they could be crazy together, and then heard her voice above the others.

“JETT, I WANNA HAVE YOUR BABY!”

“YOU GOT IT, NUTELLA!”