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THIRTY-FOUR

DANIEL

“So I’m the only person in the whole wide world who knows?” Lennox wears the biggest grin as she peeks inside the white envelope again.

“Well, you and the ultrasound tech, likely a nurse or two, and the doctor.” Eyes narrowed, I study her expression, looking for any hint about what’s printed on that piece of paper.

Fuck, it’s hard to be patient. I want to know whether Hannah and I are right. More than that, I can’t wait to find out what we’re having so we can pick a name and I can stop talking to my child like it’s a snack. But I refuse to peek. I want Hannah at my side when I find out. I promised one epic reveal, and I intend to give it to her.

Tonight.

I wrangled Lennox, the queen of event-planning, into helping me.

I’ve been told she can keep a secret. At least for a few hours.

“This is so exciting.” She bounces on the balls of her feet. “I can’t wait to tell Sara that I know.”

On second thought . I reach for the envelope.

With a giggle, she waves it above her head. “I’m just teasing. I won’t say a thing. Should I plan on getting Hannah to the rink, or will you handle that?”

“Millie’s got it covered.”

My sister wasn’t happy when she discovered that Lennox would know before her, but she changed her tune when I told her that she had a more important role. That I was counting on her to get Hannah here for the surprise. It helped that I let her in on another secret, one that not another soul knows.

Now I’ve just got to settle the knots in my stomach and convince myself this is the right thing to do. That she’s ready.

I thank her and say my goodbyes. I’ve just rounded the corner leading to the locker room when my phone lights up. When I see that it’s because the note Hannah shared with me—the one containing her bucket list—has been edited, my heart leaps.

She’s been doing that a lot lately.

Adding items to her bucket list

I have until the end of this list to make her fall for me, and at this rate, she’ll never be done with me.

It’s hard not to hope that she’s adding ridiculous things like jump out of a plane and swim in the Dead Sea —things she can’t do while pregnant—because she wants this list to last forever just like I do.

My phone rings in my hands, startling me, and instantly, my mood sinks. It’s my agent, and it’s not his first call. I’ve been avoiding him because I’m nervous about what he’ll say. I signed with the Bolts three years ago, which means this year, I became a restricted free agent. Because I’m under twenty-seven and have less than seven years in the NHL, the league rules provide that other teams can approach me, but the Bolts can exercise certain rights to keep me if they choose.

Vegas is interested; that’s abundantly clear. Camden Snow was an unrestricted free agent, so when the offer was made, he went happily. I don’t know whether Gavin negotiated to keep him. And I don’t want to know what will happen if Vegas makes a real offer. Will the Bolts exercise their rights in hopes of keeping me? And what if they don’t?

A year ago, I couldn’t have imagined worrying about any of this. But now that Noah is playing with Aiden and War, my position feels much more precarious. How important am I to the team? If Vegas offers what I’ve been told they might, would Gavin risk the salary cap to match it? Can he? I hate talking money. Maybe that’s absurd, considering the kind of wealth my family has. Now, though, it seems pertinent, and I fucking hate that.

I just want to play hockey with my friends. I want to win. I want to be useful to my team. But as I listen to what my agent has to say, it’s never been more clear that we don’t always get what we want.