Page 103 of Triplet Babies for Pucking Christmas

When she finally falls apart, it’s like a symphony—soft cries, quick gasps, her body shaking as I hold her through it.

I pull back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, and grin up at her. She’s still holding the phone, her hand unsteady, her chest rising and falling as she tries to catch her breath.

“You good, baby?” I ask, crawling up to kiss her, soft and lingering.

She nods, a lazy smile spreading across her face. “Better than good.”

“Good. Now it’s my turn.” I reach for my belt, the sound of it unbuckling making her eyes darken all over again.

Her hands reach for me, pulling me closer, and when I sink into her, it’s heaven—tight, warm, and perfect. Her belly presses against me, her breasts full and soft against my chest, and it’s almost too much, the way she clings to me, whispering my name like a prayer.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” I murmur, my hands framing her face as I kiss her again, deeper this time.

She looks up at me, her gaze soft but fiery. “Jamie, I…”

“Shh, baby,” I tell her, rolling my hips slow and deep. “Just feel me. That’s all that matters right now.”

Chapter Forty-Two

Troy

The roar of the crowd hits me like a wave as I step onto the ice. The energy in the rink is electric, the kind that gets under your skin and sticks there. Missouri’s team is already lined up on their side, and I lock eyes with their captain for a beat. He smirks. Cocky bastard.

“Let’s show them why they don’t belong in the same league,” Jamie mutters, his voice low but steady as he skates up next to me. He’s all business today, his usual playful energy locked behind a sharp focus.

Declan taps my shoulder as we circle. “Heads up, Adams. They’re coming in hard today. Watch Simmons—he’s been gunning for your spot.”

I nod, but my stomach twists. This could be the last time we play together. The thought hits like a slap.

I’ve been trying to shove it down all week, but now, out here under the lights, it’s loud in my head. The merger. The trades. Everything we’ve built could shatter after tonight.

I shake it off. One game at a time.

Coach gives his final pep talk, short and sharp. “Play your game. Hit them where it hurts. Let’s take this one home, boys.”

The whistle blows, and we’re off.

The first period is a war. Missouri’s team is scrappy, leaning hard into their checks, but we hold our ground.

Declan blocks a brutal slap shot, the puck bouncing off his shin guard with a crack that makes my teeth ache. He grins through the pain, skating it off like it’s nothing.

Jamie’s on fire, weaving through their defense like it’s a damn practice drill. He sets up Finn for a beautiful goal, the puck slicing through the goalie’s reach and slamming into the net. The crowd explodes, and I can’t help but grin.

“Hell yeah!” Jamie yells as we skate back to the bench.

By the second period, the score’s tied, and the tension is thick. Every hit, every pass, every shot feels heavier than usual, like there’s more at stake than just a win…because it’s the truth.

I glance up at the scoreboard as the clock ticks into the third period. Two-two. My legs burn, and sweat drips down my back under the pads. Missouri’s throwing everything they’ve got at us, and it’s working.

Finn slams into their winger, sending him sprawling, and I scoop up the loose puck. I’m halfway down the ice when I feel it—a shadow behind me. Simmons.

“Not today,” I mutter, cutting left hard. He’s right on my tail, his stick jabbing at mine. But I see the opening. Jamie’s on the right, open for a pass.

“Collins!” I shout, snapping the puck across.

Jamie catches it, his movements smooth and fast. One fake, two, and then he fires. The puck sails past Missouri’s goalie and into the net.

The crowd loses it.

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