Page 107 of Slots & Sticks
“You’re sure?” he asks, voice low and shaking.
I nod.
His whole face breaks into sunrise.
And then he kisses me.
Not through the glass. Not in front of it. Through it. No barriers. One arm wraps around my back, the other under my thighs—and in the space of a single breath, I’m lifted.
“Camden, what—” I squeak.
“Hold on, wife.”
He skates with me. Onto the ice. With me standing on his boots. Like some kind of feral figure skating routine directed by an ADHD gynecologist. His hands are tight around my waist, my balance wobbly as hell, but I don’t care. I’m clinging to him, laughing, breathless, joy rolling through me.
The crowd? Screaming. Phones out. Jumbotron locked in.
Camden doesn’t even flinch. He raises the pregnancy test in one hand like a trophy.
And yells—at the top of his lungs—
“I put a baby in my wife!”
I don’t think he’s showing off. Not really. More like excited because it’s proof that we made something together. Proof that love can write a future you didn’t even dare whisper.
Twenty thousand people absolutely lose it.
From behind the bench, I spot my dad.TheCoach Ranger Shaw slams both palms against the glass, grinning so wide his teeth are visible from the rafters.
“That’s my girl!” he shouts, voice cracking with pride. “I’m gonna be a Papa!”
I hide my face in Cam’s chest, laughing through my tears. And I’ve never loved him more than in this moment, with our whole damn world watching.
He spins me one more time, slow and triumphant, before gently setting me back at the edge of the rink. I wobble, dazed, my palms hot from his chest.
“I love you,” he whispers.
“I love you more.”
He kisses me again—so sweet, so reverent—and then turns to skate back toward the bench…
…only to be tackled by the entire Venom roster.
“Dogpile!” Knight screams. “I call the left leg!”
“Get his helmet!” Viktor yells. “No dad bods now that you’re gonna be a daddy!”
“It’s a baby, not a Stanley Cup!” Sofia shouts from behind me.
“It’s a baby,” I whisper. And underneath the emotion of the moment, I’m crying again.
Behind me, I hear Dante saying, “You’re no mascot. You’re fired.”
“You can’t fire me for this,” the poor guy protests, his oversized snake head listing sideways in panic. “I have an airtight contract, and this isn’t in the job description. Take it up with Renee.”
Renee appears out of nowhere. “Take what up with me?”
Dante wheels on her, eyes gleaming. “He handed a pregnancy test to the wrong player! Do you know what that does to a man’s psyche?” He points to Viktor, who has exited the dog pile but is still using the whole celebration to keep thrusting like he invented impregnation.
