Page 48 of Pucks, Lies, and Sticktape

“See you soon,” she whispered.

Matthieu stepped back, forcing himself to let go even as his body protested. The guys were calling for him now, their voices cutting through the haze of emotion, grounding him back to the present. He nodded once, squared his shoulders, and turned toward them.

But as he walked away, his heart stayed behind—with her.

He couldn’t wait to marry that woman.

10

JEANNIE

Love and laughter.

Those were the two words Jeannie would use to describe Matthieu’s family—because they loved without hesitation and laughed easily. And now, sitting between them in the limo, she saw exactly where he got it.

From the moment she had been swept into their embrace, she had felt the warmth of their acceptance, a stark contrast to the cold, distant affection she had always known. The hugs had been unreserved, the touches frequent—gentle squeezes on her arm, a reassuring pat on her knee, an unspoken promise that she was already one of them.

It was overwhelming.

Not in a bad way, but in the way that made her chest tighten and her throat burn with unshed emotions. She wasn’t used to this—being welcomed so freely, being wanted.

“So, is he as big of a sentimental dork as what he used to be?” Katie asked, her voice bright with mischief.

Jeannie let out a startled laugh—too quick, too nervous. It was a reflex more than a response, as if her body didn’t quite know what to do with the sudden, affectionate interrogation.

“Ignore her,” Matthieu’s mother said with an easy smile, brushing off the teasing. “I’m so glad to finally meet you.”

“Me too,” Katie added sincerely, her eyes twinkling with warmth.

The lump in Jeannie’s throat grew tighter. She had braced herself for this meeting, expected awkwardness, maybe a bit of polite formality. But instead, she was being enveloped—folded into their world without hesitation, as if they had been waiting for her all along.

“We were planning on coming to Quebec to catch a game and?—”

“You’re still welcome to,” Jeannie said quickly, almost too quickly.

She didn’t want them to feel like intruders. The idea of them in the stands, cheering beside her, their excitement and energy filling the arena—it was something she had never experienced, but now, she wanted to.

“We don’t want to intrude…” Donna murmured.

“Maybe she wants us to,” Katie teased. “Don’t you remember how stinky Matthieu’s hockey gear can get after practice? Does he still leave his socks everywhere?”

Jeannie felt herself relax, a small smile curving her lips as she nodded. “And shoes.”

Katie groaned dramatically. “Ugh, of course. Some things never change.”

“It wouldn’t be home without those little elements—would it?” Matthieu’s mother said softly, her hand resting lightly on Jeannie’s knee.

The touch was simple. Barely there. But it grounded her.

Home.

She swallowed hard.

Matthieu had done everything he could to make sure she felt included. Loved. That she wasn’t just stepping into a marriage today—she was stepping into a family. A real family.

Her sweet, tender, playful man was wonderful in so many ways. The nervousness in her chest loosened just a little.

“Thank you for talking me down off the ledge that day,” Jeannie whispered, her voice barely above the hum of the limo. She met their eyes, seeing nothing but kindness and understanding reflected back at her.

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