Page 29 of Penalty for Boarding

“Speaking of which,” Victoria says, taking a pastry for herself from the box. “I’ve resisted eating these for long enough.” She licks her lips. “Oh, come to mama!” We all laugh as she takes a big bite, her eyes rolling back in delight.

Our pregame pastries disappear quickly, and the familiar voice of the announcer booms through the arena.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your Sugar City Nighthawks!”

I glance across to where my dad is sitting, decked out head-to-toe in his Nighthawks gear. His face is beaming with pride, and I smile to myself, remembering how he nearly passed out when I first introduced him to Calvin. My hockey-obsessed father, who'd watched Calvin's entire career and has a signed jersey framed in his man cave, had been rendered completely speechless. It took him three attempts just to shake Calvin's hand, and now here he is, getting VIP access to his favorite team because his ‘baby girl’—as he still calls me—is not only dating one of the greatest defensemen to play the game but is also helping extend careers and prevent injuries for the whole team. The way he brags about me to his friends at the sports bar makes me blush, but I love how happy this has made him. In his eyes, I'm living the dream—and honestly, I really am.

“Here we go,” Sara breathes, grabbing my hand as the arena erupts and the Nighthawks hit the ice. Calvin catches my eye through the display. Even with his game face on, he managesto throw me that devastating wink and grin that never fails to make my heart skip. I blow him a kiss and then he's all business, skating into position with that fierce focus I've come to love. The crowd's excitement is palpable, but mine feels different now. Deeper. More personal. After all, I'm not just watching anymore—I'm part of this. Part of the family that these amazing women beside me, along with all those men on the ice, have helped create.

“Go get ‘em boys!” Natalie calls out as the puck drops.

The game moves at lightning speed, bodies colliding and skates cutting sharp paths across the ice. Calvin's first shift shows exactly why he's earned his reputation as one of the league's top defensemen.

“Now that's what I call proper edge work,” I murmur, recognizing the techniques we've been drilling.

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Natalie teases, but her eyes are locked on the ice where Luc just made a spectacular save. She cheers for him loudly.

The first period flies by in a blur of action, the teams trading chances but neither finding the back of the net. During the intermission, I watch Calvin going through his mobility exercises, knowing exactly which muscles need attention to keep him playing at peak performance.

“You've really made such a difference to things around here,” Sara says over the din. “I've never seen them all so... balanced. Strong.”

“The ballet was genius,” Natalie adds. “Even if Victoria’s pretty face was what finally convinced them to try it.”

Victoria gasps. “That so was not the reason!”

“It so was,” Sara puts in.

I laugh at their banter, thinking of how the guys had grumbled when I first suggested incorporating dance training. But the results speak for themselves—better balance, improvedcore strength, fewer injuries. And if a certain beautiful ballet instructor has caught Declan's eye in the process... well, that's just a bonus.

“Whatever motivation worked, I’m just glad it did,” I say. “A strong team means a happy me.”

The second period starts with renewed intensity. Calvin makes a beautiful play, breaking up what looked like a sure goal before sending a perfect outlet pass up ice. The crowd roars as the Nighthawks capitalize, taking the lead for the first time.

“That's my man,” I whisper, unable to keep the pride from my voice.

Sara squeezes my hand. “Andthisis exactly where you both belong.”

Looking around at these women who've become my closest friends, at the team that's become my family, at the man who's become my everything—I know she's right. Sometimes the best things in life come from taking the biggest risks. And as I watch Calvin dominate on the ice, stronger and more confident than ever, I know we made the right choice.

This is home. We're exactly where we're meant to be. Together.

CALVIN

The private dining room at DuPont's French-Creole Fusion buzzes with post-game energy. The exposed brick walls and warm lighting create an intimate atmosphere, while the sous chef, Louis, directs the other servers with professional efficiency, bringing out plate after plate of Natalie's signature dishes. I glance around the room, taking in the sight of my teammates—my family—scattered around the long table. A few weeks ago, I would have been sitting here feeling separated from the celebration, my ass warming the bench for a lot of the early season due to my ankle issues. But now I lean back in my chair, reveling in the camaraderie that fills the air.

Tonight is perfect. In fact, life in general is perfect. The team's riding high after another win, Olivia's new training programs are making us an even greater force than before, and the small velvet box in my pocket feels like it's burning a hole straight through to my skin. I catch her eye across the table where she's deep in conversation, Natalie explaining plans to expand the restaurant to her and Sara. She belongs here, with us, with me. And tonight, I plan to make sure she knows just how permanent that belonging should be.

“Chef,” Louis approaches Natalie with that ever-present professional demeanor of his. “The special appetizers you requested?”

“Perfect timing.” Natalie nods, barely containing her knowing smile as another round of dishes appears.

The food is incredible, as always. Natalie has outdone herself with a spread that has even the most disciplined players breaking their strict dietary rules. But then again, her cooking has always had that effect on us—it's impossible to resist.

“Man, Coach better not be planning to whip the scales out at practise on Monday,” Declan groans, helping himself to another serving of jambalaya. “But damn if it isn't worth it.”

“You sure you want more, Dec?” Emile teases. “We’ve all noticed how hard you’re going at ballet class. Maybe you’re thinking about a career change? And those guys are stricter than coach with their diet.”

The tips of Declan's ears turn pink. “I’m…just building muscle mass!” he retorts, puffing out his chest for effect. “It helps my skating.”

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