Page 48

Xander

I t’s game night, and I’m pumped to extend our winning streak here at home.

The fact that it’s against Boston? Bonus.

Rain got a call from the lawyer this morning—police will be at the game, waiting to take Dennis in for questioning.

She tried to play it cool, but I know she’s nervous he’ll make a scene and throw me off my game.

But there’s no way I’m letting that happen. My team and I are locked in.

By the time we’re suited up and ready to hit the ice, Matt steps up to speak.

“Listen up, guys,” he starts as we’re about to head out.

“It’s still early in the season. Some might say we can afford to lose a game or two and still make the playoffs.

But if you want the Cup, there are no games to lose.

We need to send a message—loud and clear.

This year’s winners are the Carolina Red Wolves. ”

Everyone howls, thumping sticks against the floor. Energy crackles through the locker room.

When the puck drops, adrenaline surges through me.

I know Rain is in the box with our families, but I don’t look up. I need to stay focused.

Our turn. Nico, Viktor, and I leap over the boards and onto the ice.

We press forward, trying to regain control.

Viktor strips the puck from one of their forwards and fires it deep into Boston’s zone—none of their players are there.

I speed off, chasing it down. Drawing their defense. I tap left—right where I know Nico will be.

He shoots. It hits the crossbar.

I chase the rebound, one of the Boston guys hot on my tail.

I battle the puck away from their goalie and fire it low, hard, praying he won’t be able to catch it.

The siren blares.

I lift my stick just as Viktor and Nico skate over to celebrate .

“Fuck, yes,” Nico says, grinning.

We got this. I can feel it.

I glance up—and there she is. Rain.

Front and center in the box, beaming.

Every single one of the MacAllisters is wearing a Carolina jersey.

I raise my stick in their direction, and they all fist-pump the air.

Rain blows me a kiss. I wink back, not sure if she can even see it from up there.

Feeling more powerful than I ever have before, I glide toward the bench, ready for my next shift.

The moment the horn sounds, signaling the end of the third period, I throw my hands in the air. We won—5-1—and I couldn’t be prouder of how we played tonight.

You could see the hunger in every one of us. We fought for every puck, blocked Boston from crossing into our zone, and slammed them against the glass when they got aggressive.

Tonight we showed Boston—and the rest of the league—that Carolina is here to play. And win it all.

As I head toward the locker room, I spot a commotion in the mix zone.

The second I see Dennis, my blood starts to boil.

I’m about to move in his direction when Matt steps beside me.

“Don’t do it. Let the police handle him.”

I blow the air from my lungs through clenched teeth.

We stand there watching as the scene unfolds.

To my surprise, Dennis isn’t alone. A woman—maybe his age, petite, blonde, big blue eyes—stands beside him, yelling at the officers.

I take a few steps closer, straining to hear.

“Do you have an arrest warrant?” she snaps. “You can’t just take an upstanding citizen without good reason.”

She folds her arms tightly across her chest, one foot tapping the floor in irritation.

Dennis is pale as paper, frozen in place.

One officer replies calmly, “Ma’am, we don’t need an arrest warrant. We’re not arresting your husband. We’re simply asking him to come to the station to give a statement regarding a complaint filed against him.”

She rolls her eyes and turns to Dennis.

“Did you steal or kill anyone that I’m unaware of?” she says condescendingly.

He silently shakes his head.

“See, officer? My husband didn’t do anything wrong. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’re late for dinner with my parents and our daughter.”

She grabs Dennis’s hand and starts to walk away, but an officer steps forward, palm raised .

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s best if your husband comes with us right now. Otherwise, we’ll have to contact Boston PD and request they send him back to North Carolina.”

Her expression shifts as she studies Dennis.

“What could you have possibly done to make the police harass you like this?”

He stares down at the ground, still silent.

Her frustration crumbles into confusion.

“Officer,” she says, voice quieter now, “what was the report about?”

“There’s a report against your husband for sexual assault.”

She goes still. Rigid.

“What did you just say?” she whispers. “That’s impossible. He’s my husband—we have a daughter. He’s a great man. This must be a mistake.”

She glances from Dennis to the officers, waiting for someone to tell her this is a bad joke.

But when a tear slides down Dennis’s cheek, the truth hangs heavy in the silence.

I know he’s done.

“Are you serious, Dennis? You raped someone? How could you?” she screams, hitting him—his chest, his arm, whatever she can reach.

“Ma’am, please calm down,” one of the officers says.

She whirls on him, her rage rising.

“I married a rapist? When was this? How could you do something like this? We have a daughter, for Chrissake!”

She breaks down sobbing. An officer catches her by the arms before she collapses.

Dennis leans down and whispers something to her, but she slaps him across the face.

Straightening, he turns to the officers. “Okay, I’ll go with you, officer. But please note I’m going willingly. I want to cooperate fully and—hopefully—get a reduced sentence.”

Two of the officers lead Dennis out of the arena. The third stays behind, trying to calm his wife.

“Phew, man,” Matt mutters beside me.

“Yeah,” I say, shaking my head. “He should’ve gone the minute the police asked. Probably thought he was untouchable or something.”

I glance toward the exit.

“Good riddance, asshole,” I say as Matt and I head to the locker room.

It’s time to shower and go see Rain.

“What a game, brother. That was amazing,” Miles says as I step into the box where the family’s waiting. I pat his back and murmur my thanks.

I scan the room. No sign of Rain—my pulse kicks up.

“Relax,” Miles says, catching my panic. “She’s helping Ruin change the twins. They want them in pj’s in case they fall asleep in the car.”

I frown at him, and he chuckles.

“Yeah, apparently it’s easier to put them straight to bed that way. Or so I’ve heard.” He lifts his hands like he’s dodging a baby-shaped bullet, and I chuckle.

One by one, I make the rounds—Mom, Dad, Gramps, Joss, River, Merlin, Gio.

When I reach Granny, she beams.

“I told you you were going to be the next champion, dear. I might not know a lot about hockey, but the way you played tonight? Oof.” She fans herself dramatically.

“Thank you, Granny. I’m sure that St. John’s Day ritual was key to my recovery.”

She winks, and I lean in for a hug.

“Great game, Hotshot,” comes a voice behind me.

I turn—and damn near lose my breath.

Rain stands there with a big, bold #37 painted on her cheek. Her hair is in a high ponytail, and she’s wearing my jersey—not the one she bought during the first game. One of mine. It’s so big on her, she’s tied it at the waist and is rocking it like a dress.

And beneath that? Thigh-high black boots.

My dick twitches.

Holy mother of everything holy. Give me the strength not to sling her over my shoulder and abandon everyone right here.

“Thanks, babe,” I manage, pulling her into a hug. “I’m sure you want to kill me, Rain MacAllister.”

I murmur it against her ear, and she laughs—wickedly.

She knows exactly what she’s doing.

“If I drag you out of here caveman-style, it’s all your fault.”

She leans back to look me dead in the eyes. “Don’t tempt me with a good time.”

Then she winks and heads to the bar like she didn’t just light me on fire.

I close my eyes and take a few deep, calming breaths, trying to will my body under control.

Thinking about Dennis walking out with the cops does the trick.

Back to pissed mode. Great.

After we snap some family pictures and raid the food bar one more time, we get ready to head out. They’re all leaving in the morning, so we say our goodbyes.

Next time I’ll see them won’t be until the new year.

I help Rain into the car, then jog around to my side and slide in.

As I drive us home, my hand settles on her thigh. She covers it with hers.

“You won’t believe what happened,” I say, glancing her way.

She turns to me, eyes already wide.

“As I was walking to the locker room… I saw Dennis getting stopped by the police.”

Rain swallows hard.

“He was refusing to go with them, but it was his wife who was adamant he didn’t need to go to the police station since they didn’t have an arrest warrant.”

Rain presses a hand to her chest. “His wife?”

I nod. “Yeah. She asked what the complaint was about, and the officers told her someone had filed a sexual assault report against him. She lost it—started yelling, asking if it was true. He couldn’t even answer. Just stood there.

I pause, jaw tight.

“He ended up going with the police. His wife stayed behind at the arena.”

I glance over. Rain’s staring out the window, watching the dark streets go by. She’s quiet—not crying, not visibly upset—just… processing. So I don’t push.

I squeeze her thigh gently. She squeezes my hand in return.

We make it home fast. It’s late, the Friday after Thanksgiving, and the city’s mostly shut down.

When the elevator opens into our apartment, Rain heads straight for the couch and pulls out her phone. I sit next to her and glance over her shoulder.

She’s texting the lawyer.

His response comes immediately—

Cunningham : I was waiting until morning to contact you. I got a call from Raleigh PD. They got a confession out of Dennis, and he’s requesting a settlement conference to avoid going to trial.

Rain looks at me, tears pooling in her eyes. I pull her close, and she rests her head against my chest.

“It’s your call, Cherry. I’ll support you no matter what you decide.” I kiss the top of her head as she begins typing again.

Rain : If we go this route, would he still get a jail sentence, or is that what he’s trying to avoid?

Cunningham : I’m not sure what his terms are, but a settlement conference doesn’t have to be final. If you don’t agree with what he’s proposing, we can request a full trial.

“I’m going to do it,” she says, voice steady and full of conviction. “I’ll go with Cunningham, hear what Dennis has to say, and then I’ll ask for the maximum sentence. He doesn’t get to walk away from this.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do. Tell Cunningham to arrange everything, and once he does, let me know so I can request a personal day.”

“Xander, I can’t ask you to do that. You’re in the middle of the season—you can’t miss a game. We don’t even know how long this is going to take.”

A tear slips down her cheek. I wipe it away and press a kiss to her lips.

“You’re not asking me. I’m telling you. Because we might not be married yet, Rain, but you and I—we’re already bound by love. To have and to hold, from this day forward. For better, for worse. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health. To love and to cherish, until death do us part.”

I hold her gaze as I lace our fingers together.

She gives me a crooked smile.

“I promise too. All my tomorrows are yours, Xander González.”

She straddles me, sealing her vow with a kiss.

And in the quiet warmth of our home, we make love—body and soul, heart and promise.