Page 115 of Hooked On Them

Another reporter jumped in. “You speak of professional standards, but what about the timing of this relationship? Did it start while Ms. Hastings was already your coach?”

The question made my jaw clench. “Our personal relationship developed after she joined the team, yes. But we don’t bring that onto the ice.”

“And what would you say to people who think this is inappropriate fraternization?”

The question came from the back, from a blogger I recognized as one of the more combative sports writers in the area.

“Nora doesn’t make roster decisions, and she doesn’t determine my ice time. She makes me do the work and run drills that I hate.” I smiled slightly. “The team and the rest of the organization support our relationship, and that’s what matters.”

A woman from a major hockey publication raised her hand. “Do you have any response for your father?”

This was the question I’d been dreading and expecting. I straightened my shoulders. “No.”

The room waited for more, but I remained silent. Let them interpret that how they wanted. My father didn’t deserve any more of my time or energy.

Theresa leaned in. “We have time for one more question.”

A veteran reporter I’d known since my rookie year stood up. “Dominic, with all this going on off the ice, how do you stay focused on the series?”

Finally, a hockey question. “The same way I always do. When I step on the ice, nothing else exists except the game. We’re down one-nothing in the series, but we’ve been in tougher spots. Tomorrow night, the only thing on my mind will be helping this team win.”

“Thank you, everyone,” Theresa interjected smoothly. “That’s all the time we have for questions.”

The reporters erupted with more questions, but I was already stepping away from the podium, my body lighter than it had been in twenty-four hours and possibly in my entire adult life. I’d said what needed to be heard, and more importantly, what I hadn’t said to my father spoke volumes.

For the first time in my life, I hadn’t let my father’s voice drown out mine.

Chapter37

Pandemonium

Nora

There’s something surreal about watching two people you love achieve a dream. Like time slows down and speeds up simultaneously. The puck left Dominic’s stick in what felt like slow motion, yet somehow crossed the goal line before I could inhale.

Then pandemonium.

Twenty thousand people collectively lost their minds as our guys poured over the boards, helmets and gloves flying in all directions. Miles reached Dominic first, tackling him to the ice in a full-body embrace that would’ve qualified as assault in any other context.

I clutched the railing, a sharp pain radiating across my lower back as another contraction hit. Eight minutes since the last one. They were getting closer together.

“You okay?” Carter’s voice came from beside me, his hand finding the small of my back.

I nodded, exhaling slowly through pursed lips. “Just excited.” A half-truth.

Carter’s eyes narrowed, unconvinced. “Your excited face doesn’t usually involve white knuckles and sweat beads.”

“I’m fine.” I straightened up as the contraction passed. “You promised.”

“I promised not to tell anyone until after the game.” Carter’s hand made gentle circles on my back. “And technically, the game just ended.”

“The celebration hasn’t.” I gestured to the ice where adult men were sobbing and embracing each other like long-lost relatives. “They’ve waited their whole lives for this. I’m not stealing their moment with a ‘Surprise, my uterus is having a party.’”

Carter’s arm wrapped around my shoulders. “Let’s get down there then.” He was already guiding me toward the exit.

We made our way down the private elevator and through the bowels of the arena, Carter clearing a path through celebrating executives and media members who were rushing toward the ice.

Another contraction hit as we got to the ice, this one stopping me mid-step. A little less than seven minutes.

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