Page 33

CHAPTER 32

GUNNAR

My pre-game routine in Minnesota feels different tonight. Not just because we're on the road but because I can hear Emerson's laugh floating down from the family section during warmups. She's up there with Cam and Essence, all three in matching jerseys with their guy’s name on the back. This will be her first time watching me play on the road, and I like having her there for me.

It’s been a long week with a lot of hard conversations every evening. Emerson invited me to join her for one of her therapy sessions with Zara, where I learned about how people respond after spending their whole lives with parents like Emerson’s. I’ve only met my in-laws once, during that unfortunate time in New York, and I have absolutely no desire to share space with them ever again. I’m afraid I’d throttle them for what they’ve done to my wife’s central nervous system.

Luckily, I’m way on board for Zara’s plan to shower Emerson with love and encouragement. If I toss in some really incredible sex, that’s just gravy.

I adjust my pads and watch Grentley take his place in the crease for the first period. The guy's been less of a dick lately. Still won't look me in the eye most days, but at least he's stopped trying to shoulder-check me in the locker room.

My phone buzzes in my stall—a notification that Emerson has posted another photo to her social media. I grin at the image—her between Cam and Essence, all making fish faces at the camera. The caption reads, "Still don't understand icing but loving game day with my PAWs!”

She's gotten good at this, finding the sweet spot between the polished posts Brian wants and genuine moments that show her personality. Way better than those stiff symphony publicity shots her father used to make her do.

"Stag!" Coach barks. "Phone away. Game face on."

I nod and settle in to watch the first period. Something feels off about Grentley's movements. He looks stiff, particularly on his right side. Most people might not notice, but I've been observing his style all season.

Between periods, I find him in the hallway outside the locker room, grimacing as he stretches his hip. St. Paul is ahead by one, and everyone feels tense.

"You good?" I keep my voice neutral, remembering how I felt watching my brother Odin work through recovery from injury.

Grentley's head snaps up. "Fine." But he winces as he straightens.

"Look," I say as I lean against the wall, giving him space. "My brother ended his career with an injury. I’ve seen how that can wreck a guy. Just... be smart about it."

He stares at me for a long moment. "You angling for my spot, rookie?"

"I'm trying to have your back." I meet his eyes. "We're on the same team."

Coach rounds the corner before Grentley can respond. Takes one look at him and jerks his chin at me. "Warm up, Stag. You're in for the third."

I expect Grentley to argue, but he just nods and heads for the trainer's room. Progress.

The third period flies by in that hyper-focused way that only happens when I'm truly in the zone. Every save feels instinctive, my body moving before my brain can catch up. When the final horn sounds, signaling our 3-1 victory, I'm swarmed by teammates.

"Nice work, G Stag!" Tucker pounds my back while Alder tries to dump water on my head.

I scan the crowd and find Emerson leaning against the glass, beaming. She's holding her phone, probably documenting the celebration for Brian's PR strategy, but her smile is meant just for me. God, I love her. I really need to tell her that. I keep meaning to say it, but I’m worried I’ll overwhelm her and drive her away. I’ve been trying to show her as much as I can.

In the locker room, Grentley's waiting by my stall. "Good game," he says gruffly.

"Thanks." I start unbuckling my pads. "You let them check out that hip?"

He sighs. "Yeah. Probably just tweaked it.” He pauses. "Listen, about all the shit earlier this season..."

"Water under the bridge." I hold out my fist, and he bumps it. "We're good."

The media scrum descends, asking about the win, about splitting time with Grentley, and about finding my groove as a rookie. I give them the usual soundbites about teamwork and taking it one game at a time. But when someone asks about Emerson being at the game, I can't help but grin.

"Yeah, she's up there with the other PAWs. Still claims she doesn't understand sports, but she's getting into it."

"Any truth to the rumors about tension between you and Ashley Weber?"

My stomach clenches, but I keep my voice steady. "Ashley's a colleague and friend. We're both focused on growing the game, especially supporting the women's league."

"But the tabloids?—"

"Are tabloids." I cut them off firmly. "My wife and I are very happy. Now, any questions about tonight's game?"

Later, after showering and changing, I find Emerson waiting in the hall. She's still wearing my jersey, her curls wild from celebrating. "Nice saves out there, husband."

I pull her close, breathing in her familiar scent of lavender and chamomile. "Nice work up there cheering, wife."

She laughs against my chest. "I'm getting better at it, and I posted pictures online. Essence showed me these filters that make everyone look like they're glowing." She pulls back to look at me. "Everything okay? That reporter's question about Ashley pissed me off.”

"Brian's handling it, and good for you for naming your emotion about it." I kiss her forehead. “You ready to head back to the hotel?"

"Mm." She leans into me. "Cam and Essence want to grab food first. You up for it?"

"Always." I grab her hand as we head for the exit. My phone buzzes—probably Brian with more PR strategies or coach wanting to review the film. But right now, I just want to enjoy dinner with my wife and our friends, feeling settled in my game and in us.

The headline alert that flashes across my screen stops me cold: "FURY STAR'S VEGAS WEDDING VALIDITY QUESTIONED"

Emerson squeezes my hand. "What's wrong?"

I force a smile and delete the news app from my phone. "Nothing important. Let's get food." But my gut churns, wondering what fresh hell is about to rain down on us just when things are growing solid.

I'll check the full story later and figure out what we're dealing with. For now, I just want to hold onto this moment— my wife proud of my game, our friends waiting, and the team working together. Whatever's coming, we'll face it like we face everything else. Together.