Page 40 of Gamechanger

I pressed a kiss to the top of Finn's head, breathing in the scent of his shampoo. "I love you," I whispered, too quietly for him to hear. The words felt like both a promise and a prayer.

As I drifted off to sleep, I clung to the warmth of the moment, trying to silence the doubts that lurked in the corners of my mind. Tomorrow would bring its own challenges, but for now, I had this. I had Finn. And I would do everything in my power to hold onto this happiness, for as long as I could.

Chapter twelve

Finn

The airport terminal was a cacophony of rolling suitcases, muffled announcements, and the constant hum of conversation. I paced back and forth, my hockey-honed muscles coiled tight with nervous energy. Each step was a mixture of excitement and dread, my emotions as turbulent as the planes taking off outside.

I checked the arrivals board for the thousandth time. Flight 1872 from Minneapolis: On Time. My stomach lurched, a feeling reminiscent of those seconds before a face-off, when the whole game hangs in the balance.

This visit meant everything to me. It wasn't just about introducing Moose to my parents; it was about bridging twoworlds that had seemed impossibly far apart. My life in Minnesota—the backyard rinks, high school games, and family dinners—felt like a lifetime ago. Now, I was Finn Novak, NHL rookie, living in Portland, and I had a boyfriend my parents had never met.

What if they didn't approve? What if they couldn't accept this new version of me? The thoughts sent chills up my spine, colder than any ice rink I'd ever skated on.

But then another voice in my head, one that sounded suspiciously like Moose, reminded me of how far I'd come. I was living my dream, playing the sport I loved, and I'd found someone who understood me in a way I never thought possible.

As I turned to make another lap around the concourse, I spotted a family reunion happening nearby. A young woman, probably close to my age, was engulfed in a group hug by what looked like her parents and siblings. Their joy was apparent; their laughter carried across the terminal.

A lump formed in my throat. God, I'd missed my family. Video calls and texts were fine, but they couldn't replace the warmth of my mom's hugs or the proud gleam in my dad's eyes when he watched me play.

The PA system crackled to life, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Flight 1872 from Minneapolis now arriving at Gate C3."

My heart rate spiked, and I wiped my suddenly sweaty palms on my jeans. This was it. In a few moments, my past and present would collide, and I had no idea what the outcome would be.

As I stood on my tiptoes, searching for familiar faces in the crowd of disembarking passengers, I made a silent promise to myself. No matter what happened, I would be honest—about who I was, about Moose, about everything. I owed them that much, and I owed it to myself.

And then I saw them, highlighted by Mom's floral scarf and Dad's Twins cap. It was the embodiment of home, walking towards me. In that moment, all my fears and doubts melted away, replaced by a surge of love so strong it nearly knocked me off my feet.

"Finn!" Mom's voice cut through the airport chatter. Before I could say anything, she enveloped in a hug that smelled of her favorite lavender perfume and Dad's Old Spice.

"Hey, kiddo," Dad said, his hand warm on my shoulder. "You growing again? Swear you're taller than last time."

I laughed, some of the tension melting away. "Pretty sure I stopped growing years ago, Dad."

As we waited for their luggage, Mom's looked into my eyes. "You look tired, honey. Are they working you too hard?"

"I'm fine, Mom," I assured her, though my mind flashed to Moose and the darker circles under his eyes. "Just excited to have you here."

The drive home was a blur of catch-up chatter and pointing out Portland landmarks. As we neared my apartment, the knot in my stomach tightened again.

"So," Dad said, a hint of teasing in his voice. "When do we get to meet this Moose of yours?"

I gripped the steering wheel tighter. "He's joining us for dinner. You'll love him, I promise."

***

The clinking of cutlery and the warm aroma of roasted chicken filled my apartment. Moose sat across from me, his broad frame dwarfing the dining chair. To my left, Mom peppered him with questions, while Dad observed with amused interest.

"So," Mom began, leaning forward, "how did you end up in sports marketing? Finn mentioned you used to work in environmental consulting."

Moose's eyes lit up, and for a moment, I saw a glimpse of his usual energy. "Well, Mrs. Novak—"

"Anna, please," Mom interrupted with a smile.

"Sarah," Moose corrected himself, grinning. "It was actually a bit of a happy accident combined with a brainstorm. I saw the posting of a job at the arena, and I already felt close to the team due to my good friend, Quinn. When I worked on a project helping the Portland Lumberjacks with a sustainability initiative, I decided to go for it.

Dad chuckled. "Sounds like you stumbled into your dream job."

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