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Chapter twenty-five

That was for you, Charlie girl

Jake

T he arena is already humming with energy. The sound of skates slicing the ice, sticks clacking, and the steady thrum of the crowd gathering outside is like a familiar rhythm that always gets my blood pumping.

After finishing our drills and pushing through warmups, I head back to the locker room. It’s alive with the usual pre-game rituals. Eli is taping his stick, his brows furrowed in concentration. Chase is bouncing on his feet, hyping himself up. It’s the calm before the storm, and we all feel it.

Normally I’d be focused, but today my mind keeps drifting back to Charlie. To what we are now. Official.

I can’t stop thinking about the nights I’ve spent with her since Thanksgiving—the way she looks up at me, sprawled on the bed like an angel, the feel of her body against mine, the sound of her laughter.

She’s intoxicating.

“Thinking about Charlotte again, huh?” Eli’s voice cuts through my thoughts.

I chuckle, pulling out my pads. “My girl’s never far from my mind.”

“I’m happy for you, man. She’s a catch.”

His words warm me, but they also stir up that lingering worry in the back of my mind. I keep thinking about the kids, too. They’re a package deal, and I’m not just falling for Charlotte, I’m falling for them just as much.

“So, what’s next?” Eli asks, catching my expression.

I shrug, but there’s a smile playing on my lips. “I don’t know. We’re taking it slow, especially with the kids. But I’m in this, all the way.”

Eli nods, his expression serious. “Good. If anyone deserves happiness, it’s you, Brooks.”

I laugh, knowing he’s right but still feeling the weight of it all. “How did you know Tamara was the one? I mean, when did you know you wanted to marry her?”

Eli’s face softens, his gaze distant for a moment. “There wasn’t one big moment, you know? But I remember this time after a rough game. I was beat up, felt like I’d let the team down. Tam didn’t say much, just showed up with my favorite takeout and a movie she knew I loved. Didn’t try to fix it, just sat with me. That’s when I realized I didn’t just want her around when things were good—I wanted her there when things were tough, too.”

The words hit home. Charlie did something similar recently, showing up after a rough game when I’d felt like shit. She just slipped into the condo, made me tea, and let me know she was there. That’s how she’s always been—quietly present, like she sees the parts of me I’m not always sure are worth seeing. And she makes me feel like they are.

I nod and turn back to my locker, the familiar mix of sweat and adrenaline thick in the air. My eyes land on the small, crayon-drawn unicorn taped to the door—Meadow’s masterpiece.

Reaching out, I tap the picture lightly, almost unconsciously. It’s silly, but it centers me.

“Touching the unicorn for luck, huh?” Ryan calls from the bench.

“Can’t mess with the routine,” I shoot back as I grab my helmet.

The banter continues, but I’m already slipping into game mode. I close my locker, my mind focused and ready. Tonight’s game is going to be a battle, but I’ve got more than just the win on my mind.

“You ready for this?” Ryan asks as I take a seat beside him.

“Always,” I reply, tightening the straps on my pads. “But it’s gonna be a tough one.”

“We’ll handle it. Just stick to the plan.”

When we finally hit the ice, the roar of the crowd is deafening, and it’s like flipping a switch. The nerves disappear, replaced by the fierce focus that comes with game day.

The arena is buzzing as the national anthem plays, the crowd on their feet. I’m standing in line with the team, dialed in. But as I scan the stands out of habit, something catches my eye in the WAGs box.

Charlie. She’s sitting with Tamara, Claire and Zoe, looking like a damn miracle. Dressed casually but still mesmerizing, her face is lit with excitement. Meadow is on her lap, bouncing with the same energy thrumming through me, and Noah sits beside her, wide-eyed at it all.

She brought the kids. I’m so caught off guard, I almost miss the start of the anthem, barely catching myself in time as I grin like an idiot.

Charlotte meets my gaze, her eyes lighting up as she realizes I’ve spotted them. I can’t help but smile wide, a silent acknowledgment that I’m glad they’re here.

I make a mental note to get them all jerseys with my name and number on the back. They’re part of this now, part of me. As the anthem finishes and we take our positions on the ice, I keep that image in my mind: Charlie and the kids cheering me on.

The puck drops, and the game begins.

Right from the start, it’s clear this is going to be a battle. The other team’s aggressive, throwing everything they’ve got at us, and we’re not backing down. There’s a lot of chirping on the ice, guys trying to get under each other’s skin, but I’m locked in and keeping my cool.

Both teams are playing hard, but I’m on fire tonight. When I finally get the puck and see an opening, I don’t hesitate. I charge forward, weaving through the defense, and with a powerful shot, I send the puck flying into the net. The red light flashes, the horn blares, and the crowd erupts in cheers.

As my teammates swarm me in celebration, I glance up at the WAGs box, locking eyes with Charlie. She’s cheering, her face lit with pride, and I give her a wink and a grin. That was for you, Charlie girl.

Midway through the second period, things start to heat up. We’re tied, an d the tension is thick. I’m digging hard in the corner for the puck when I feel the hit. Hard and fast. The glass rattles with the force, and my helmet smacks hard against the plexiglass. The sharp sting in my shoulder makes me suck in a breath as the world tilts for a second. The roar of the crowd becomes distant, muffled by the blood rushing in my ears.

“Brooks, you good?” Chase’s voice cuts through the fog, and I nod, even though my vision blurs slightly as I push myself up.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I grunt, shaking off the stars in my vision as I push to my feet.

The ref’s arm is up—boarding, two minutes for the other guy—but all I can think about is the ache spreading through my shoulder and the fact that Charlie and the kids just saw that.

It’s hell sitting on the bench, especially when I see a few scuffles breaking out on the ice. But I know better than to push it. The last thing I need is to make whatever this is worse.

By the time I’m cleared to get back on the ice, we’re in the final period, and the score is still tied. But then Eli wins the faceoff, and the puck lands on my stick.

I push forward, weaving through the defense like my life depends on it. As I approach the net, I glance up instinctively. Charlie’s watching, her face a mixture of nerves and hope, and the kids are on their feet, eyes wide with excitement.

It’s all the motivation I need.

I wind up and let the shot fly, the sound of the puck hitting the back of the twine like music to my ears. The arena erupts in cheers, and my teammates crowd me, everyone shouting and slapping my back.

We hold onto the lead for the remaining minute, and when the final buzzer sounds, the relief and joy that washes over me is indescribable. We did it.

All I can think about is getting upstairs to see Charlie and the kids. But as soon as the game ends, reality hits. The media is already gathering, waiting for post-game interviews, and I know what’s coming.

When I get back to the locker room, I pull off my gear and hit the showers quickly, knowing what’s waiting outside.

As I step back out, the media is already there, gathered around Ryan first. He’s answering questions with his usual calm, and then it’s my turn. I grab the nearest towel to swipe the lingering sweat from my face, plastering on a game-ready smile as the reporters close in.

“Jake, incredible goal tonight! How’s the shoulder feeling after that hit in the second?”

“It’s fine,” I say, keeping my tone steady. “Nothing serious. Just part of the game.”

“What was going through your mind during that last play?”

I shrug, leaning on the bench behind me. “Just focusing on getting the puck in the net. The team’s been working hard on creating opportunities like that, and it paid off.”

The questions keep coming, veering from the game to playoff prospects, and then inevitably, to my personal life.

“Jake, there have been rumors about someone special in your life. Any truth to that?”

I grit my teeth behind my smile, deflecting with practiced ease. “I’m just focused on talking hockey right now. That’s where my head’s at.”

I glance toward the locker room entrance, itching to get out of here. The thought of Charlie and the kids waiting for me upstairs is enough to keep me grounded, but it doesn’t stop the reporters from pushing for more.

“Jake, do you think having family in the stands tonight gave you an extra boost?”

The question catches me off guard, but I recover quickly, the grin on my face more genuine this time. “Having people who believe in you always helps,” I say simply, dodging the specifics. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta catch up with them.”

I step away before they can ask anything else, making my way toward the private exit that leads to the suites.

My heart’s pounding, but it’s not from the game or the media—it’s from the thought of seeing them.