Page 53 of Flirty Pucking Wolf

“You were all babies, so you have no way of knowing, but Seamus was a difficult pregnancy. To have more children would’ve been dangerous for me. We wanted a large family, but two sets of twins back-to-back, and then to be surprised with Seamus… My body never had a chance to recover. Your father went and got the snip to protect me. You know men, and you know wolf shifters. They’re a virile lot, and their manhood is everything. But your father went and did that for me, for us, without a second thought. I didn’t even ask him, he did it. So, aye, let him have his horses and his races, they make him happy. But I know his heart lies with me and our family.”

“I…I never knew any of this,” I stammer. “All I saw was you sacrificing. I know I’m too selfish to do that.”

“Sophie, you are not selfish. It’s okay to not want to be a wife and mother. I know the wolves are an old-fashioned lot, but we live in the modern world. Women, even women who are wolf shifters, are entitled to live the lives they want. Whether that’s focusing on a career, or focusing around hearth and home, or melding both. You can be whoever you want and do what is best for you. I’m going to love and support you no matter what. I am so proud of you. Whether you dance or change diapers or dig for dinosaur bones, whatever you want to do, I want for you. Your job is to live the life that pleases you, not what you think pleases me. I made my choices. You get to make yours.”

I don’t know if this counts as a conversation since I barely said anything, but it’s the conversation I needed to have. The sobs come unexpectedly as Ma pulls me into her embrace. I’m shedding tears of relief at admitting the truth of how I feel, sorrow for the years I spent resenting the choices my mother made and the expectations I felt they placed on me, and also tears of joy knowing I’m accepted for who I am. I don’t have to fit into a mold to be loved. Part of me wishes I’d done this sooner, but I know now is when I needed to hear it the most.

My mom got to live her dreams. So did Dad. And that really fills me with joy.

But the next second, it comes crashing down because from where I’m sitting, neither Trevor nor I get to live ours.

22

TREVOR

I’ve failed.Everything I’ve tried to both be able to perform on theCelebrity Dance Darefinale and play in the final game of this series has been met with failure. The PHL refuses to start the game an hour later so I could perform our finale dance first and then race the few blocks back to the arena to suit up in time for puck drop. I wouldn’t even stay for scores. I’d perform and dash. No-go. They insist on puck drop going off right on time, and if I’m not there, I’m not playing. I’m not even allowed to leave and come back. I’ll be guarded like a prisoner once the game starts. If I leave the arena, they won’t let me back in, and the Devil Birds can’t substitute a player. They’d have to play a man down the rest of the game.

Jake and Teagan argued everything they could. Even the coach and manager of the New York team tried to get Wagerman to see reason, to no avail. I’m only a few blocks away from Sophie and the dance studio, but it may as well be a million miles. We’ve texted and had a brief video chat today when she had snippets of time available. She’s going to dance our dance with Ian. I’m glad it’s going to be seen—it deserves to be seen. I just wish it was me dancing it with her.

“Dude, can you stare vacantly into space in another direction, you’re freaking me out,” Stone says from his space across the locker room from me. That’s when I realize I’ve been staring at him as he’s putting on the base layer of his uniform. We’ve all seen each other naked. It’s not a big deal, but I can see how it would be unnerving.

“Sorry,” I mumble, averting my gaze to the floor. I should be putting on my own gear and getting ready to hit the ice, but for the first time ever, there’s no thrill of excitement at hearing the crowd and anticipating the feel of my blades slicing through the fresh ice.

I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to be here. I should be with Sophie. Iwantto be with Sophie. It’s not about winning the competition. I don’t give a fuck ifIwin, but I want her to win. I don’t have to prove to anyone I’m a good hockey player. I think my two hat tricks this week speak for themselves. I care about my teammates, of course. I don’t want to let them down, but they don’t need me. They’ve proven they can win without me on the ice. Sophie needs me. Just as importantly, I need Sophie.

I stand, about to find Coach, only to discover him standing there with Jake, watching me.

“Go,” Coach says. “We got your back. You’ve had ours all season.”

I check my watch. I have fifteen minutes to get to the studio. I need to change. I can’t dance in the suit I wore to arrive at the game. Jake tosses me a T-shirt and a pair of joggers.

“Randi says to wear this and to haul your ass there. She’s texted Ian.”

I’m changed and out the door in minutes, leaving a flurry of break-a-legs and go-get-ems in my wake. I can’t trust a taxi, so I run like a crazy person the few blocks to the studio where the show is filming. Thank the stars the security staff recognizes me and lets me in without a fuss. Xavier grabs me and pulls me into the makeup room. Ian let him in on our plan.

“Relax,” X says, “you have time. Let’s get you ready. Catch your breath. Need to have you looking your best when you go out there and steal America’s heart.”

I submit to his handiwork and watch the feed of the show from the makeup chair. I keep checking the game’s score on my phone. Scoreless in the first period and halfway through the second. Both teams are playing hard, desperate for the W. I know I made the right decision. This is where I need to be, this is where I want to be. I never expected to want to be somewhere other than on the ice during such a vital game, but I can’t imagine being anywhere else. Sophie needs me, and nothing will stop me from being here for her. I don’t need to prove to anyone that I’m good enough. Sophie Mackenzie loves me, and that’s all that matters. I don’t need the world when I have my girl.

23

SOPHIE

Rushingbackstage after performing a number with the other pros and troupe dancers, I think about how easy it was to slip out of the laser focus I’ve always had with dance and connect with Trevor. Any other finale day, even when I was just a background dancer, my focus was completely on the performance ahead. If you weren’t on the floor with me, you didn’t exist. I’m still focused on dancing, but it exists along with other parts of life. Is this what it’s like to have balance? I’ve never had that before. It’s kinda nice.

I choreographed the pro dance, and it went well. It was relaxing not to have to explain every step and gesture because the pros understood what I was doing. I’m not as patient a teacher as Ian is. After two or three times, I want it to be perfect and move on to the next thing. But I hate moving on before it’s perfect, so multiple repeats are necessary. It’s frustrating, and I suck at hiding that. Thank goodness Trevor is easygoing and loves me.

Ian and I are dancing last. The two couples still competing for the Platinum Paw trophy danced well. Watching their dances, I sincerely think Trevor and I could’ve won with our choreography, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing was announced about Trevor not dancing tonight. I assume DeeDee will say something for the television broadcast, and maybe the studio announcer will say something for the ballroom. Whatever. It doesn’t really matter why he’s not here.

When it’s time for my freestyle dance, I go to my mark in the far corner of the dance floor and face the audience. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me. It’s my time in the spotlight. I thought I’d be excited. I am. But I’m also eerily calm. It doesn’t matter how this dance goes because I’m not dancing it with Trevor. It’s just steps and music, not our hearts and our feelings for each other. It’s hollow. My parents and brothers—minus Declan—are here to support me. Mom insisted she was just a proud mother and didn’t want to be introduced or acknowledged. It’s my night. Mom makes heart hands, and my brothers are smiling. Dad’s eyes are glassy. Okay, can’t look at Dad, he’ll make me cry. Someone yells out, “I love you, Sophie Mackenzie!” but it wasn’t Trevor’s voice, just a random fan.

The first notes of the music play. Ian’s going to enter from the upper opposite corner so he’s not visible to the audience yet. We’re dancing to a dreamy arrangement of The Proclaimers’ “(I’m Gonna Be) 500 Miles.” The choreography includes more ballet and lifts than Ian and I are used to doing together. It suits Trevor’s style of dance well and minimizes the stress on my ankle. I count, and I know when Ian enters the dance floor because I hear the audience react.

I turn and prepare to run toward Ian as the choreography calls for.

But I stop. It’s not Ian.

It’s Trevor. He’s here. On the dance floor. To dance with me. He walks toward me with his hand outstretched. I take it, automatically.

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