Page 28 of Penalty for Boarding

“We'd need time to think about it,” I start, but Olivia cuts me off.

“No, we don't.” She squeezes my hand, her eyes bright with excitement. “This is perfect. You get to finish your season, I get to continue doing what I love, and we get to be together. No need for either of us to commute. We’ll both be stationed here in Sugar City.” She pauses and a dreamy sort of smile takes over her face. “Not to mention, my dad is going to lose his mind! Where do I sign?”

I look down at her hopeful eyes and feel my heart swell. Of course, she'd see straight to the practical solution. It's one of the countless things I love about her.

But I notice something else too—the way Coach keeps stealing glances at Margaret when he thinks no one's looking. The slight flush on her cheeks when their eyes meet. Interesting.

“She's right, son,” Coach says, clearing his throat. “Don't be stubborn about this. Sometimes the simple solution is the right one.”

Margaret pulls out her pen with a knowing smile. “Shall we?”

And as Olivia practically bounces with enthusiasm beside me, I realize there's only one choice to make. The same choice I'll always make—whatever makes her happy.

“All right,” I say, reaching for the pen. “Let's do this.”

OLIVIA

I’ve stood behind the bench during hundreds of games during my career, and they’ve all been amazing, fueled by the electric energy of the crowd hoping for their team to win. But for me, none of those games can measure up to the anticipation I feel just watching Calvin glide across the ice during warm-ups. His movements are fluid, confident—a far cry from the stiffness that plagued him at the start of the season. And what makes this even better is that I know he’s mine, and that we can be together for the whole world to see openly. So much has changed in barely a month.

“Look at you, rocking that jersey like you were born to wear it,” Sara teases, bumping my shoulder as she joins me at the boards. She's wearing Emile's number, while Natalie beside her sports Luc's captain jersey.

“Can’t let those puck bunnies think they were ever in with a chance.” I laugh, tugging at the BARRETT emblazoned across my back. “That man is mine and mine alone.”

“Sing it loud,” Natalie agrees, nudging me with a playful grin. “I’ve got my eyes on my own prize tonight, though. Luc is going to bring his A-game. Just wait until you see him out there. Those ballet classes you set them all up with did wonders for hisknee. You’d never know he was out for three games the way he’s skating nowadays.”

I'm about to respond when movement on the ice catches my attention. Calvin's working through the new stretching routine we developed, and I feel a surge of pride seeing how much more stable his ankle looks. The Nighthawks have given me free rein to set up injury prevention programs for the players—something I could never do without needing to compromise before—and the combination of targeted Pilates, strategic strength training, and yes, even ballet, has worked wonders for the whole team. I’m feeling incredibly proud and blessed right now.

Speaking of ballet... I spot Declan showing off near the blue line, demonstrating the improved flexibility he swears has nothing to do with our new dance instructor, Victoria. The way his eyes follow her when she's in the training facility suggests otherwise, though.

“Someone's trying to impress the ballerina,” Sara whispers, following my gaze.

“Can you blame him?” Natalie adds with a knowing smirk. “I've never seen the boys so eager to work on their 'core strength' since she started.”

I can’t hide my giggle. “You should have seen how against it they were in the beginning. Then Victoria walked in, and the drool that fell from their mouths could have caused a host of injuries alone. Who knew a ballet instructor from Peach Springs would end up being our secret weapon for getting the team to embrace ballet?”

“Small-town girl makes it big,” Sara agrees with a laugh. “Though watching Declan try to impress her with his pirouettes while begging for those famous Dougherty's peach pastry recipes is pretty entertaining.”

“Speaking of food,” Natalie adds. “I went out to Clearwater last week and sampled the food at your family’s Italianrestaurant. I even got talking with your grandmother who, once she realized who I was, sent me home with a box of cannolis. Oh, my god. Amazing. I ordered a box for us to enjoy at tonight's post-game dinner. I know they aren’t the French-Creole fusion my restaurant is known for. But since we’re celebrating your contribution to the team tonight, I figured something sweet and quintessentially you was in order.”

My stomach growls in anticipation. I haven’t been able to make it out to Clearwater to visit my grandmother and eat at Angelo’s for months. “You're the best! Now I really can’t wait for this game to be over. I’m starving just thinking about those cannolis.”

“I think I can help you there,” a voice says from behind me. I turn to see Victoria, her curves wrapped in Nighthawks workout gear, and a box from Dougherty's Bakehouse balanced carefully in her hands. She beams at me. She’s still got that small-town warmth about her, even after months in the big city.

“What is this?”

“I brought reinforcements,” she announces, lifting the box. “Peach danishes—Shelby's new recipe. They’re not cannolis, but they should tide you over until dinner tonight.”

“They will definitely help me out!” Sara says, grabbing a pastry from the box then giggling as she gestures to where several players seem to have noticed Victoria's arrival and suddenly seem very interested in stretching closer to where we're standing.

“Declan!” Victoria calls out, making him jump guiltily. “Your turnout is slipping. Remember what we worked on yesterday?”

He immediately adjusts his stance, earning snickers from his teammates. The tips of his ears turn pink, but he beams when Victoria gives him an approving nod.

“I still can't believe how quickly you got them all to embrace ballet,” I tell her, biting into a delicious pastry.

“Honey, when you grow up in Peach Springs, you learn how to sweeten up the most sour attitudes,” Victoria says with a wink. “Though I have to admit, trading small-town recitals for professional hockey players wasn't exactly in my five-year plan.”

“Neither was moving to the big city,” Natalie adds. “But look at you now—teaching ballet to an NHL team and still managing to get home often enough to keep us supplied with Dougherty's famous pastries.”

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