Page 52

FORTY-FIVE

lauren

The drive to the hospital passes in a blur of anticipation and Tate’s hand never leaving mine.

By the time we get there, the waiting area looks like a post-game locker room—loud, chaotic, and everyone’s stress-eating like it’s an Olympic sport.

After waiting nearly an hour, Brax bursts through the door.

“It’s a girl!” he shouts, his whole face lit up with joy. “Jaz is a rockstar. The baby’s healthy. They’re both doing great.”

Everyone cheers. Lucian and Leo high-five. Rourke fist-pumps the air. Sloan’s crying, and Vale’s crying because Sloan’s crying.

And I’m standing in the middle of this wild, incredible moment, with Tate’s arms wrapped around me, a feeling of gratitude washing over me.

Because I get two families. My boisterous, funny, and sometimes stubbornly loyal family, and my hockey family, who’s just as boisterous, funny, and stubbornly loyal.

“Unfortunately, the hospital won’t let the entire team in at once,” Brax says.

“Disappointing,” Leo says as he waits next to Victoria. “We were ready to throw a party in the maternity ward.”

“Maybe I’ll see if I can sweet-talk the nurse,” Rourke says, taking off after a young nurse.

“He’ll probably try to ask for her number.” Leo snorts. “And get shot down before he can even finish. Doesn’t matter because I’m pretty sure he has it bad for Janie. He texted her on the way over, and for the first time in weeks, got a reply.”

“Maybe there’s hope for him after all,” I say.

“Lauren and Tate, do you want to see the baby with Vale and Sloan?” Brax asks, pointing toward the hospital room.

I glance at Tate. He nods. “We’d love to,” I say.

We follow the group to the room, where Jaz is holding a baby who’s wrapped like a little burrito.

“Welcome to the world, little Rosie,” Jaz says to the tiny baby as she passes her to her sister.

My heart stops completely. “Did you just call her Rosie ?”

Jaz nods. “Rose Ember MacPherson.”

“I can’t believe it.” I shake my head. “That was my mom’s name—Rose Williamson.” For the last year, I’ve carried Mom’s absence like a weight on my shoulders, wondering how to honor her memory.

But hearing her name spoken over this new life, watching hope literally swaddled in a hospital blanket, for the first time since she died, grief doesn’t feel like drowning. It feels like love continuing, giving new life again.

“Are you okay with us using that name?” Jaz asks.

“More than okay,” I say, smiling through my tears. “It’s perfect.”

Vale holds out his arms and wiggles his fingers. “Okay, it’s time for Uncle Vale to hold Rosie.”

“Are you sure you can handle a baby?” Sloan asks with a little wink.

“If I can handle a fifty-mile-per-hour puck, I can definitely handle her,” he says. Sloan passes her to Vale, who treats her like she’s made of crystal.

“Just watch her head,” Brax says.

“You’ve been a parent for, what…thirty-seven minutes and you’re already telling me what to do?” Vale says with a laugh. He fi nally manages to settle baby Rosie into his arms—just in time for her to let out a wail that could shatter glass.

“Looks like no one in the house is getting any sleep,” Brax says.

“I’m wearing earplugs,” Leo announces as he strolls in, Victoria and Lucian behind him. “Almost as bad as living above Delilah and that demon parrot. If Big Bertha calls me ‘meathead’ one more time?—”

“The bird’s growing on you,” Victoria interrupts.

“That bird is the worst housemate ever,” Leo says. “And I lived with these clowns.”

“Hey,” Tate says, offended. “I’m the quiet one, remember?”

“You are literally the one who made spreadsheets for chore duty,” Leo replies.

Tate holds up his hand. “That was to keep the peace.”

“How did you get permission to come back here?” Brax asks Leo. “I thought the nurse said no more visitors.”

“You can thank Rourke for that. But guess who showed up right after?” Leo grins.

“Janie Bennett. Just as Rourke was trying to get permission to get the whole group in here. When she heard him, she must have thought he was hitting on the nurse, because her face turned red, and she promptly left. Rourke looked like a man whose heart had been ripped out of his chest.”

“Hey, Tate, do you want to hold the baby?” Vale asks.

Tate smiles. “Sure.” At first, he looks terrified, like he’s holding something way too fragile for his massive hockey-player hands, but then something shifts as he cradles her against his chest, rocking her carefully.

The same gentle hockey player I saw playing with Camden and Kaylie and then patiently teaching kids how to handle their Nerf guns suddenly emerges again, his expression softening as he gazes down at her.

And I just stand there, soaking it all in, a fuzzy feeling in my stomach. Because there’s nothing more heart-tugging than a tough hockey player snuggling a tiny baby.

I take out my phone, but before I snap the picture, I remember something.

And this time, it’s too important to ignore.

“Tate,” I say. “I know how much you hate pictures, and after everything we’ve been through with cameras and PR—I want you to know this is for my dad, so I can tell him Mom’s name lives on. ”

He looks up, and there’s no hesitation. “Of course, Sunny. I’d be honored.”

And the smile he gives me is a real smile, finally. The kind you only give to the people who know you. The kind that heals the stories that broke your heart.

It seems impossible that joy can fill in around the broken edges of our stories.

But it happens, in some kind of miraculous, unexplainable way.

Already I can see that his story—our story—is the kind you never want to finish.

Every stubborn argument, every game we played together, every time we let the other person see the broken but real parts of our hearts.

I wanted to know why he builds walls with facts and rules, why he carries Hope’s memory in four simple beads, why he reads fantasy novels about impossible love.

Now I know. He was waiting for someone worth breaking his own rules for.

When I snap the picture, I realize this picture is not just for Dad. Maybe this moment is for my whole family, to show how love is a circle, rather than a finite line. It’s an endless loop, living on in the people we’re lucky enough to call family.

Tate glances around the room, suddenly aware that all eyes are on us. “So, did anyone get a shot from our big moment tonight?”

“Only about a thousand fans,” Leo says. “Give or take.”

Lucian lifts his phone. “It’s already trending, beating out your last viral moment. Congratulations, Sheriff, you’ve officially dethroned the PR queen.”

Tate winks at me. “Never saw that coming.”

“Well, I never saw you as a baby person,” I say. “And look at you. You’re my fun, baby-snuggling, book-loving nerd now. If I wasn’t already in love, watching you hold that baby just sealed the deal. ”

Leo groans. “Okay, gross. Someone break them up.”

Tate shoots him a grin. “Jealous?”

“You know what, Sheriff?” Leo says, strolling across the room. “When you moved in, I figured you were a no-fun, rule-enforcing robot.”

“And now?” Tate asks.

Leo shrugs. “You’re still all of that. But having a girlfriend means the rest of us don’t have to pretend to care about your facts anymore.”

“Speaking of facts,” Tate says. “Did you know newborns can?—”

“Stop,” Leo cuts him off. “Don’t make me regret admitting I like you.”

“Suit yourself, Ego,” Tate says, handing the baby back to Jaz. “But just for the record, I won’t miss living with you when you get married.”

“Oh, you’ll cry when I’m gone,” Leo says.

“Only tears of joy,” Tate deadpans.

Lucian raises a hand. “I would like to announce that someone better miss me. Because I’m suddenly feeling left out. All of you are paired off, and I’m heading to a town with, like, fifty people and a pumpkin festival.”

Brax claps him on the back. “You’ll meet someone. My gut says Maple Falls has a surprise for you. And my gut is never wrong. Right, Jaz?” He turns to his wife.

Jaz nods serenely, then looks at me and mouths, He’s been wrong twice this week .

“If you come out, I’ll give you the full tour,” Lucian says. “All four blocks of it.”

Leo smirks, then looks at the other players in the room. “There’s just one thing left to do. Right, guys?”

Lucian freezes. “Oh, no. Guys, nooooo ?—”

Brax spreads his arms. “Crushers’ hug!”

“What’s a Crushers’ hug?” I whisper to Sloan .

She grins. “Something between a frat party and a football tackle.”

The guys swarm Lucian in a giant bear hug that includes yelling, grunting, at least one “OW,” and a loud “I CAN’T brEATHE!”

Right then, a nurse bursts in like we’re disturbing the peace and announces, “Okay, hockey players— out . Mama and baby need rest.”

We scatter to the hall, laughing as we head to the exit of the hospital, saying our goodbyes for the night.

As the rest of the couples go their separate ways, Tate and I linger in the parking lot, not quite ready to say goodbye to this perfect day. His hand holds mine, our steps unhurried as we walk beneath the golden glow of the lights.

“You know, I’m glad you’re staying,” I say. “I like those guys. Honestly, I might invite them to the next family reunion.”

“Am I invited?” he asks, a slow smile curving his lips.

“With your random facts and reading Thorne’s words? Absolutely . But I expect book two by then.”

He laughs, then stops, turning to face me completely. “You really liked it that much?”

“More than liked it. I loved every part of it.”

He pulls me a little closer, his dimples making me feel weak. “You know, Sunny, I could arrange for a few new scenes. Ones with…more kissing.”

“I would thoroughly approve,” I say, leaning into him, the warmth of his arms wrapping around me like everything I never knew I needed.

His lips brush the shell of my ear. “Would you?”

“Five-star rating,” I murmur, closing my eyes as he kisses my cheek, then my jaw, and finally the curve of my neck. “I used to think love stories were just pretty lies we told ourselves. Then you taught me the best ones aren’t fiction—they’re the ones brave enough to be real.”

His smile is certain. “Well then, let’s write the best one yet.”