Page 82 of Huge Pucking Play

"Yes, ma'am," I say, capturing her finger and kissing it. "Speaking of clocks, we should probably get back to work before someone thinks we're celebrating our victory inappropriately."

She laughs but stands. "You're right. I have Miller's ankle to assess, and you have that video review to finish."

"Dinner tonight?" I ask, rising to join her. "Somewhere nice? To celebrate?"

"Yes." Her smile is soft. "And maybe we pick up Oscar from my place after? Bring him to yours?"

Her puppy. At my place. Another step forward. "I'd like that. And it will be interesting to see what Shade has to say about it."

She retucks her polo and adjusts her ponytail. Professional Cyn reassembling before my eyes. But her smile remains—a private curve of lips meant just for me.

"How do I look?" she asks. "Properly composed PT, or woman who just had her career and relationship saved in one meeting?"

"You look beautiful. As always." I resist kissing her again. "And formidable."

Cyn moves to the door, hand on the knob. "See you at six?"

"Six." I nod. "I'll be the one not hiding how much I adore you."

Her cheeks flush, and her eyes hold mine steadily. "I'm counting on it."

Chapter 23

Garrett

Iwatch Cyn's chest rise and fall in the soft morning light. Her blonde hair fans across the pillow, one hand curled protectively over her rounded belly. My throat tightens with an overwhelming surge of protectiveness. Not long ago, my life was ordered, predictable. Now it's chaotic, terrifying, and more satisfying than I ever imagined possible.

The digital clock reads 5:47 AM. Old habits die hard. Years of pre-dawn practice sessions have permanently rewired my body clock, even though I'm behind the bench now instead of on the ice. I don't mind these quiet moments, though. They give me time to look at her, to marvel at how quickly everything changed.

I’m careful not to wake her. She needs her rest. Dr. Anderson says everything is progressing normally, but I still worry. The baby's due in about four months, and I'm counting down the days like I used to count down to playoff games. Except this is so much bigger.

"You're staring again," Cyn mumbles, her eyes still closed.

"Can't help it." My voice comes out rough with sleep and emotion.

She stretches like a cat, her tank top riding up to expose more of her growing belly. "What time is it?"

"Early. Go back to sleep."

Instead, she rolls toward me, those green eyes opening slowly.

“Sleep well?"

She nods her head. "So much better this week. Whatever magic Dr. Anderson worked with those supplement changes, it's helping."

Relief washes through me. The first trimester was rough on her. So much nausea and the ginger tea and acupuncture only helped so much. The second trimester has definitely been an improvement.

"That's so good." I place my hand gently on her stomach. "How's the little forward doing this morning?"

"Defenseman. Or woman," she corrects with a sleepy smile. It's our ongoing joke. She insists our baby will take after me.

Her hand covers mine. "The baby was kicking like crazy yesterday."

I smile broadly. "Yeah? Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were in that strategy meeting with Coach Martinez. I was going to tell you at dinner, but then you were so excited about that new defensive line setup, I forgot."

Guilt pricks at me. "I'm sorry. I get caught up sometimes."

---