Page 33
brADEN
In the airport lounge, I sink into a worn leather chair, stretching my legs out onto the cool tile floor as I cradle a tall glass of iced coffee.
The smooth, slightly bitter sip of the brew pulls me back to earth while I watch my family buzzing around, laughter and conversation filling the space despite their exhaustion from weeks on the road.
Six years ago, I would have never pictured a scene like this.
Back then, every moment was filled with a restless need, a constant quest for something unnamed. That was before Kenzie, the woman who entered my life and taught me that stability could be as exhilarating as the unknown.
She didn't clip my wings. Instead, she showed me how a steady heart can make flying even more meaningful.
For years, I had dreamed about traveling the world, chasing sunsets in far-off places, and immersing myself in every culture.
But now, experiencing all of it with Kenzie, Ambrose, Reggie, the rowdy triplets, and Wyatt has infused those adventures with an unexpected depth.
We spent months trekking through Europe, wandering the lively, sun-drenched streets of Barcelona, marveling at the frozen peaks of Switzerland's Alps, and marveling at the dramatic landscapes around every bend.
I still remember the rugged Scottish Highlands, the wind whipping through our hair and Reggie, eyes glinting with pride, leading the way as if he were a warrior of ancient clans defending his territory.
And then there was Venice, a city of labyrinthine canals, where Kenzie's hilarious reprimand rang through the narrow alleyways after I clumsily nudged a gondola into a precarious tilt, nearly upsetting an elderly couple riding on it.
Amid these escapades, my travel vlog unexpectedly exploded with recognition. I pull out my phone with trembling excitement and scroll through a sea of comments.
One headline catches my eye: "The Marauders’ Wild Family Adventuers—Backpacking Across Europe!"
Each comment, brimming with enthusiasm and calls to break free from ordinary lives, sparks a tiny flame of inspiration in me.
As I look up, the comforting sight of Kenzie catches my eye. She is bending over with gentle care, patiently helping little Daisy tie her shoe, the soft glow of a nearby reading lamp casting a warm halo around her.
In that moment, my heart swells with a deep, unwavering certainty that even all the travel in the world would pale in comparison to the journey I share with her and our children.
I realized then, I never needed just the thrill of travel.
I needed them.
As much as I love the adrenaline rush of gliding across the rink, I know my days on the ice are numbered. My muscles still ripple with strength, but each morning I feel the deep ache in my joints, the weariness that clings to my bones, the relentless demand of the sport taking its toll.
Yet, amidst the fading echoes of hockey's pull on me, something new has begun to grow within me, writing.
With Kenzie’s gentle guidance, I've ventured into the world of romance novels. The irony isn't lost on me.
I used to scoff at her towering piles of paperbacks, poking fun at the improbability of their plots, teasing her mercilessly about how unrealistic they were.
And now? I’m captivated. I find joy in weaving characters together, spinning tales of love, adventure, and the search for that perfect connection, or connections, in our case.
Kenzie has been my anchor through this journey, helping me hone my ideas, offering feedback on every chapter, and encouraging me to delve into emotions I once found elusive.
The most rewarding part?
It’s working.
My first book, a romance infused with wanderlust and distant lands, is actually selling. I drum my fingers against the edge of my spiral-bound notebook, eyes locked on the new outline I've been carefully crafting during our trip.
I want to make this my future. I want to write full-time, to pour the same passion into my words that I once reserved for hockey.
Then, when I finally hang up my skates for good, I won’t be adrift. Because I have something just as exhilarating waiting for me.
I glance at Kenzie again, her laughter ringing out as she balances little Kingston on her hip, amused by something Reggie said.
This is my next story.
This is my happily ever after.
"Can we go running with you tomorrow, Dad?" Wyatt asks, his voice bubbling with excitement as he bounces on the balls of his feet.
Ambrose grins and kneels down, adjusting the straps on Wyatt’s backpack, which is decorated with patches of superheroes and hockey logos.
The triplets, Lily, Kingston, and Daisy, practically vibrate with anticipation, their eyes wide and hopeful as they look up at him.
Daisy's bright red curls bounce as she chimes in, her voice full of determination. “Yeah! You promised we could train like real hockey players!”
Reggie, leaning casually against the wall, lets out a hearty snort and ruffles Daisy's hair affectionately. “Ya lot already skate better than half the players I know,” he teases, his thick accent coloring his words with warmth.
Lily gasps, her eyes lighting up with delight. “Really?” she asks, her hands clasped together, full of youthful innocence.
“Absolutely not,” Ambrose replies with a deadpan expression, his eyes twinkling with mischief, making all the kids burst into giggles.
Kenzie, standing nearby, shakes her head with a smile tugging at her lips, as she hoists her well-worn carry-on over her shoulder.
“I swear, if one of them tries to run an ultra-marathon by the time they’re ten, it’s on you,” she jokes, her voice filled with mock exasperation.
Ambrose smirks, a playful glint in his eye. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Wyatt, who’s nearly as tall as Ambrose now, flashes a confident grin. “I’ll beat all of them. You’ll see,” he declares, puffing out his chest with youthful bravado.
Kingston, the quietest of the triplets, nods seriously, his small hands gripping the straps of his backpack tightly.
Reggie chuckles, a deep, hearty sound. “Tell ya what. Ya run in the morning, and I’ll take ya to the rink after,” he offers, his voice promising adventure.
The kids erupt into cheers, their voices echoing with excitement, and I watch as Kenzie’s expression softens, her eyes brimming with love as she takes in the scene.
This is the life we built together, a tapestry of laughter and dreams, and I wouldn’t change a single thing.
The plane vibrates beneath us, and I feel a familiar wave of exhaustion and excitement come over me.
Kenzie leans her head gently against my shoulder, her fingers weaving through mine like an intricate tapestry, while Reggie and Ambrose bicker playfully over who gets the coveted aisle seat on our next flight.
I glance to my left and see Wyatt and the triplets, their heads close together, whispering animatedly about their favorite moments from the trip, the roller coaster, the beach, the endless ice cream cones.
I clear my throat, trying to gather my thoughts, and say, “I just wanna take a second to say…I love you guys. All of you. This life? It’s more than I ever imagined.” My voice is steady, but my heart swells with emotion.
Kenzie looks up, her eyes sparkling with affection.
Instead of responding with words, she stands, planting a quick, tender kiss on my lips. She then turns, bestowing the same affection on Reggie and Ambrose, each kiss a silent declaration. She crouches to kiss each of the kids on their foreheads, whispering something soft and sweet that makes them smile and giggle.
As Kenzie settles back into her seat, the stewardess strolls by, her friendly smile radiating warmth.
“Can the kids have sodas?” she asks, her gaze flicking to us for approval.
In perfect unison, all four of us respond, “No!”
Our voices blend together, firm yet playful, and Kenzie bursts into laughter. Soon, our laughter fills the cabin, contagious and joyful, as the kids groan in mock protest.
Kenzie turns to us, her face alight with happiness, eyes dancing with joy. “We make a good team,” she declares.
I squeeze her hand, sharing a knowing look with Reggie and Ambrose. “The best team,” I reply, my voice rich with conviction.
And with that, the plane lifts off, wheels leaving the ground, carrying us off together, as always.
The end.