Page 135 of Puck Princess

“Not yet!” Kennedy warns. “Save your tears for the gender reveal. You’re going to need them.”

Callie actually bounces in excitement, her hands on her bump. “I can’t wait to know if it’s a Violet or a Felix.”

I wrinkle my nose. “You mean a Winter or a Puck?”

Summer actually gags. “For the love of all that ispuckingholy, please do not name a human child Puck.”

“He’s not serious,” Callie assures her. Then she whirls on me. “You aren’t serious, are you?”

“I guess we’ll find out when you’re loopy on painkillers and I’m alone with the birth certificate.”

Callie’s glare is terrifying enough that I’m about to admit that I’m kidding. Then Dax bursts through the door. “Let’s throw this baby a fucking rager!”

The rest of the team streams in behind him, carrying an array of gifts.

Dax, of course, has a keg.

“Daxton! You did not bring beer to a baby shower.” Kennedy looks like she’s going to explode.

Dax takes his aviators off. “Why not? I’m not pregnant. And neither is Owen.”

Kennedy lets out a sigh of exasperation, and I glance at Callie. She’s smiling and shaking her head. I know we’re thinking the same thing.These are our best friends? Really?

The shower is more of a family barbeque, everyone laughing and eating and playing yard games for ridiculous prizes that Kennedy bought at the dollar store. After we eat, Kennedy insists that all of the guys sit their half-drunk asses down so we can open the gifts.

Callie screams in cuteness overload at tiny Scythes jerseys and a pair of crochet slippers that look like ice skates, but my smiles are all for her.

Who would have known that pregnant Callie would be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen? It doesn’t help that her dress is cinched just under her chest, and she looks fucking delectable. All I can think about is taking it off later.

Once the gifts are gone, Kennedy clears her throat.

“Alright, I think it’s time for the big reveal. As most of you know, the gender of the baby has been a secret. Only the OB and I know whether it’s a little Miss or Mister in there.”

“Just tell me I am having a great nephew so I can drink to my future hockey center!” Coach bellows. His grin and his words make it obvious he’s done some inspecting of the keg. If I’m being real, it’s good to see his face cherry-tinted from alcohol instead of rage on the ice.

Everyone laughs and Kennedy goes on. “I asked Callie how she wants to do it, and we came up with something we thought was pretty appropriate. Owen?”

I look around, unaware I had to do anything. Then I see Lance bring out a hockey stick and a puck. He hands both of them to me.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” I ask. Then I realize the puck is weird.

“Do I really have to explain this to you?” Kennedy rolls her eyes. “You’re supposed to hit the puck with the stick.”

“You follow all that, Sharpe?” Dax asks with a cackle.

“Fuck you,” I shoot back, flipping him off.

“When the puck hits the fence,” she goes on, “it’s going to explode. You’ll know by the color of the powdered glitter what you’re having.”

It seems a little silly to me, but Callie is excited to the point of squeezing the blood out of my hand.

“Are you ready?” she asks.

“Why the hell not?” I make my way to the middle of the yard, setting the puck down in the grass, which is a first. “Never have I ever…” I shake my head with a smile and everyone laughs again.

Then, like I would on the ice, I breathe in. Hold. And shoot.

The puck flies at the wooden fence, hitting it dead in the middle. It shatters and cloud-like powdery glitter fills the air.

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