Page 61 of Pucks and Likes

That our son is the reason for it.

Yep, not allowing myself to fall for this man is getting harder by the second.

CHAPTER 26

Alex

“My friends, my boys, my brothers, in all senses of the term.”

I look around the octagonal locker room, which gives me access to all my teammates. Everyone looks on as I stand in the middle of the room—not on the Knoxville Bears logo, because I’m not trying to mess up our chances of winning. While I’m not superstitious, I’m a littlestitious, as Michael Scott would say. Even thinking of the great show The Office, that I binged with my girl, can’t make my grin wider. It’s as big as it’ll ever get.

Elliot is having a boy.

My boy.

Fuck. My mom is going to call him Gordo.

Ah, I’ll worry about that later.

When Coach steps into the room, he looks around and then at me. “Who in God’s name allowed this idiot to speak?”

I laugh as I wag my finger at him. “Not even you, my surly Highlander coach, can mess with my mood!”

Laughter erupts as everyone razzes him, grinning back at me.

“As I was saying, my brothers, I have news. I have done God’s work?—”

“Oh, for the love of Christ,” Coach mutters.

“Yes, he was involved,” I say, not missing a beat. “But I am proud to say that I, Alejandro Benito Cruz, who has been hit in the groin enough times to cause concern, has knocked up the gorgeous love of my life, and we are having…a boy.”

I spread out my hands like I’ve just declared I am the king of the castle, and while Coach is still glaring at me, my brothers all cheer, congratulating me and grabbing their sticks to tap the carpet. Some of my teammates ask me who the mother is, but I don’t answer, just grin. But most of the guys know. I hadn’t been shy that I wanted Elliot and only Elliot before I went to the Assassins, so surely they can put two and two together. I grin widely, my heart about to explode in my chest. “But don’t say anything to anyone. I gotta tell my mom, and my love has to meet her—after we win this game and then go kick the Griffins’ asses!”

That gets more whoops and hollers and, of course, cackles, mostly from Coach. “Aye, gotta tell your mummy?”

“I do, and I’m probably going to get my ass whooped with a cocha since I waited so long to tell her.”

Coach snorts, and in that way only he can do, he butchers the word cocha, adding a brogue to it that doesn’t belong as he asks, “And what is a cocha?”

“My mom’s house shoe, the left one. I’m pretty sure she bought left ones in bulk to keep on hand to beat us with.”

He smiles at that. “Maybe she’ll let me borrow one.”

“You can ask—after we win.”

He pats my shoulder. “I will. So let’s win, aye?”

“Aye,” I agree, and he squeezes my shoulder.

As our eyes meet, I swear I see pride there, and it pulls at my chest.

“Congratulations, Cruz.”

I beam, my chest feeling like it’s going to crack open and my heart will come flying out with a sign that reads, “I’m having a boy!” I thought I wanted a girl, and maybe I did. Maybe I would be this proud and excited, no matter what. But fucking hell, I’m stoked. I’m going to be the dad my dad wasn’t to me.

I’m going to be a dad my son is proud of and a man my woman wants by her side.

When Coach slaps me on the back, a little harder than necessary, I grin at him, and a smile plays on his lips. He won’t let it shine, but it’s there.

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