Page 56 of The Game She Hates

“This wasn’t like the semi-finals; it was intense, lots of pushing and shoving,” I say, still in awe of how well he played. The Glaciers emerged victorious with a 4-2 score, and Zane was credited with two goals. Fans were screaming his name, and it was clear he had maintained his reputation as one of the best, yet fame never went to his head. Fans will never know how genuinely good of a person he is on top of playing so well.

“Ah, that’s the championship for you—the grand finale of the season. Everyone’s brought out their A-game, and the rivalry with the opposing team today runs deep. They used to dominate until we broke their winning streak, so they were giving it their all.” His eyes are still alight with the intensity of the game.

“You were incredible out there. I loved every moment you were on the ice.”

“Thanks. Having my dad and Aunt Mel at the game was special. I never imagined he’d ever see me play. And every time I looked at you...I felt invincible. Your presence fuels me in ways I can’t even describe.” He locks his gaze with mine, and like always, his eyes captivate me entirely but I don’t ever have to fight it anymore.

“Then I’ll never miss any of your games ever again, Captain,” I promise, a wide grin spreading across my face as I envision myself cheering him on from the stands at every game. The crowd had erupted in wild roars at the announcement of Zane replacing Tyler as captain next season.

“So, does this mean you no longer hate this game?” Zane asks, pointing to the ice.

“Ladies and gentlemen, presenting your newest hockey fanatic!” I announce with a flourish, giving myself a round of applause and earning a bemused look from Zane.

“As long as the new fanatic only wears my jersey,” he adds with a lopsided grin.

“Always 12.” I raise my hand as if taking an oath.

With a gentle, calloused touch, Zane cups my cheeks, his warmth spreading through me. We close our eyes, and our lips meet in a tender and deep kiss. A surge of passion, previously withheld, surprises me, and he whispers against my lips, “That’s me telling you I love you, in case you missed hearing it.”

“I love you too, Zane Ortiz,” I murmur, my heart overflowing with love.

36

Epilogue

The jungle-themed murals of monkeys swinging from trees, ducks and elephants in a river, birds perched on branches, and a lion reigning as king of the scene are coming together beautifully on the teal-painted walls that Pearl is putting the finishing touches on. I crane my neck to admire her progress and gauge how she’s feeling.

“Did I mention today how incredibly proud I am of you?” I ask, watching her work with admiration. She has been a huge help with decorating the nursery and has done a fantastic job.

“Only about ten times,” she replies with a wide grin, though her expression quickly changes when another contraction hits. The discomfort seems to be intensifying with each passing hour.

“I’m sorry, love. Why don’t we head to the hospital and see how everything’s going?” I reach out gently to help her up.

“If you keep apologizing after every contraction, my love, you have a long day—and maybe night—ahead of you,” she says with a half-smile. Each time a contraction grips her, her expression sours, and she holds her breath, as though something is prodding her until she releases it. It’s difficult for me to witness her in that state.

“And no, I don’t want to go to the hospital too early. That’s a common mindset for first-time moms. I want to let labor progress naturally at home.”

She had explained to me multiple times that hospitals and stressful environments can sometimes slow down the progress of labor. However, as I watch her become increasingly uncomfortable throughout the day, I find myself struggling to support her decision to wait it out at home.

Neither of us have experienced this before, and throughout the entire pregnancy, I’ve battled relentless anxiety over the possibility of something terrible happening to her. Without Jesus, these past nine months would have been plagued with nightly panic attacks, haunted by the darkest fears of losing my sweet wife, similar to how my dad lost my mom.

I was still working on memorizing my Bible verses, but there was a song that really helped me with Psalm 34:4: ‘I sought the Lord, and he answered me and delivered me from all my fears.’

It was a comforting reminder that fear isn’t from God and that only He can deliver me from it. Pearl also loved reassuring me with this whenever I struggled.

“Okay, but will you tell me if things get out of hand?” I ask, searching her eyes.

“I promise.” Her voice is steady as she looks into my eyes, her hand gently resting on her rounded belly like she wasn’t in major pain just a few minutes ago. I walk toward her, squat to press a kiss to her forehead, my hand caressing the gentle curve that now cradles a new life—a life created by God, the fruit of our love.

I knew marrying the love of my life soon after saying “I love you” was the craziest and best decision I ever made. But I hadn’t anticipated the abundance of blessings that have poured down on us since we exchanged vows.

All I know for certain is that I don’t deserve this life, yet I believe that God hasn’t withheld any good thing from us, including the heartache that has made expecting our rainbow baby even sweeter and miraculous.

“Help me up?” she asks. “I want to send the finished product to Charlie and Robs.”

Instead of simply offering her my arm and making her do the work of getting up, I hold both of her arms and lift her. As she stands up, there’s a sudden splashing sound, and fluid begins to trickle down her leg.

“We’re going to be parents!” she shouts, seemingly unfazed by the gush of water.

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