Page 96 of Sincerely, Pack Pucked
“Hell yeah, we do!” Jasper called out.
“A baby girl. So cool.” Saint patted Jasper on the back, looking from him to Percy, who smiled at me with glassy eyes.
“Mable, it’s a girl. There’s a baby girl in there.” Percy’s voice shook slightly, and then we were both laughing through happy tears.
Devin stared down at my stomach, his expression a little grim as he said, “Thank fuck we have a security team.”
I laughed, but he was certainly not surprising anyone with how protective he was feeling. If he was overbearing with me, I could only imagine how bad he’d be with a little girl.
I patted his shoulder, hoping to offer some comfort. “She’ll be in good hands. I’m sure of it. Just don’t go doing that thing where you never let her out of the house. It’s the 21st century. We need to let her be her own person.”
“She can be anyone she wants,” Devin agreed. “But I’m going to teach her self-defense. Just in case.”
The room erupted with laughter, though it wasn’t a half-bad idea, and I sat back in my chair, happily munching on my cupcake—sugar and spice and everything nice. We have a baby girl coming soon, and I couldn’t wait.
Chapter 36
Jasper
“Are you sure you won’t be recognized?” Mable asked quietly as we filtered through the crowd towards our seats.
She wasfinallyattending her first game.
When Saint had suggested the box where a lot of the team’s family watched, she had gone pale and insisted that she didn’t want that. Our relationship was pretty new, even though we were dead serious about her, so I could appreciate her not wanting to be thrown into the deep end. If it were up to me, I would have had her sitting in one of the boxes and shown her off to all of our teammates and family.
Luckily, I wasn’t playing. My shoulder was still sore after the last pre-season game, and after a quick chat with Coach, he agreed to keep me off the ice for the next game to preserve my strength for the games that mattered, meaning I could attend with my Maple girl.
Spencer was also with us, sitting in the row behind, keeping a close eye on us. He looked hilarious as a fan, dressed in jeans and a hockey jersey. Saint had tried to convince him to wear the team beanie, complete with pompom, but he’d rejected that with an instant scowl.
“I think I look pretty inconspicuous.” I grinned, using my hand on her lower back to guide her toward our seats.
I was wearing a baseball cap—with the California Chargers logo on it, of course—and my glasses. Between the shade of the hat covering my eyes and the tinted glasses, I doubted anyone would recognize me.
“Your face is plastered all over the arena. How do you think no one's going to recognize you?” she asked in disbelief.
I chuckled. “It’s the glasses, no one recognizes Clark Kent when he wears his. Plus, everyone expects me to be either in the locker room or up in the boxes with the rest of the family. This is the last place they would imagine I would watch the game.”
Mable took in the arena with a mixture of awe and unease on her face. “It’s gigantic,” she whispered, leaning over so I could hear her over the sound of hundreds of people talking. “How many people are here?”
“I think the rink has about twenty thousand seats, maybe a little less?”
Her eyes widened as she nodded, gently chewing on her lip. “That’s a lot of people…”
“It is,” I agreed. The crowds were just part of my day-to-day life, but seeing them through her eyes was interesting, to say the least. Her hands balled in her lap as her gaze darted around the arena.
Throwing one of my arms over the back of her seat, I leaned in close, basking in the maple scent I was very much addicted to.
“So this game doesn’t count?” she asked, her face scrunched in confusion as she leaned over so I could hear her.
“Not really,” I said. “It’s a preseason game, but we still take them pretty seriously. They are kind of like warm-up games for the regular season, and they also let us scope out the competition.”
“Right, okay. That makes sense.” Mable still seemed distracted and a bit off. I could smell the subtle shift in her scent as the nerves got the better of her. “So, um, it’s still important to win, though, right?”
“It’s always important to win, but”—I angled her a little closer, scooting her way so she wouldn’t be uncomfortable, then wrapped my arm around her—“it’s also fun. Which is what you should be having. I promise. We’re okay.”
She frowned up at me, trying to turn it into a smile, and I kissed the top of Mable’s head.
“Spencer is right there. See? Everyone is watching the game.” I took my free hand and rubbed it over her belly, trying to send out as much calming energy as I could. “And you have me. I’m right here.”
