A/N: Thank yous to Team Spiderward for turning this one around at lightning speed! And to a special pre-reader for this chapter, Eternally Addicted. Thank you for joining us, Mary! xx

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. The NHL owns anything that sounds familiar. I'm here having fun.

/ /\ (oo) /\ \

Chapter 57

At the sound of the phone ringing for the neighborhood gate, Scout gruffs.

"I wonder who that could be?" I whisper, muting the television before answering the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Spider." There's a long pause. "It's Ben. Um . . . you got a minute?"

"Hey, Ben. Yeah, sure." I press the keys on the touchpad, opening the gate.

"Thanks. See you in a bit."

"Okay."

Scout watches me from where he's sitting on the couch.

"We have company," I inform him.

After jumping off the couch, he hurries ahead of me down the hallway. I open the side door, and we watch as Ben parks in the driveway. Exiting his car, his hesitant expression says it all.

Something's wrong.

"Hey, man." I smile. "How are you doing?"

"Hey." Ben reaches out to pet Scout's head. "I've been better. I was driving around thinking and . . . I ended up here."

"Okay." I reach out, and we share a one-armed hug. "Let's go inside. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Water would be good."

"Nothing stronger?"

He grins. "On second thought. How about a beer?"

"You got it."

Together, we walk toward the kitchen.

"Anyone else here?" he asks, looking around.

"No. Doc has a meeting after work. Leah officially moved into her own place. She requested Mom's assistance in making some decisions on furnishings. So, they're shopping for furniture and shit."

"Oh, cool."

Stopping at the refrigerator, I grab a juice for me and a bottle of beer for Ben, setting it on the island in front of him.

"It's just me, Scout, and Shadow is in her cat tree. Want a glass?"

"Nah. I'm good."

"Do you want to sit outside by the pool or in here?"

"Here's okay." He twists off the cap, takes a long drink, then settles on a stool.

After a swig of my juice, I ask, "So, what's going on? What's on your mind?"

"A lot of things," Ben begins. "Junior . . . didn't want me to tell you, but I think you deserve to know."

"That doesn't sound good. Tell me what?"

"I've had several doctor appointments recently. Everyone has an opinion." He sighs heavily. "Fuck."

"Just say it," I urge.

"I'm out. I can't play or even practice. If I do, I risk damaging my knee further. Rest isn't enough at this point. I've tried, believe me I've tried. I need surgery. There's a doctor in New York who can do it, but Junior won't let me have the surgery until the end of our season."

"Wow."

Ben continues. "Even after the surgery . . . if it isn't successful . . ."

We both know what he's saying. I can't imagine being done with hockey at thirty. I've already played another four past that point.

"Don't think like that."

"I know, but . . . I hate to go out like this. I mean, what the fuck can I do?"

"You're not done. You'll have the summer to rehab, then be as good as new for next season," I encourage.

Ben shrugs. "I know the timing of this sucks, but I thought you should know that the remaining games, despite what you may hear in the press, they're all on you. And I guess, Stefan, if you need him. I'd help if I could, but I just . . . can't."

"Oh, man." I shake my head. "No one will forget you got us here, but I'll do my best to push us across the finish line."

He nods. "Don't hesitate to lean on Stefan. I know he's green, but he's good. Take the rest when you need it."

As if I'll give up my current starting position so easily. "You're still coming with us, right?"

"You bet I am. I'll be at all the games, but inaccessible to reporters. I need to ask you not to share what you know with our teammates or anyone in the press," Ben requests.

"I won't. Is it okay to share with Doc?"

He smiles. "As long as you keep it between the two of you, I'm good."

"You got it."

The chime of the alarm prompts a bark from Scout, and he races down the hallway, eager for her arrival.

"Hey, buddy. How's my good boy?" Bella asks lovingly.

Scout returns to the kitchen with my smiling wife, who notices our unexpected guest.

"Hey. Hi, Ben. This is a welcome surprise."

"Hey, Doc."

Opening my arm in invitation, she wraps herself around me for a hug.

"Hello, beautiful."

"Well, hello yourself, handsome."

Bella turns her face to mine, puckering her lips that I can't resist kissing.

"How was your day?" I ask.

"Good."

"And your meeting?"

She smirks. "Interesting."

Ben clears his throat. "Spider, I should get going."

"You're welcome to stay for dinner," Bella offers.

"Nah. I'm good. I just . . . thanks for listening."

"Anytime." I smile.

"I thought . . . you would want to know. I would."

"You're right. I appreciate you telling me."

He nods. "I'll catch you later."

Bella smiles. "Bye, Ben."

"See ya, Doc. Take care of our guy."

Her smile widens and her hand slips to cup my ass cheek, giving it an appreciative squeeze. "Oh, he's in excellent hands." With the closing of the side door, Bella is quick to question his visit. "What was that all about?"

"Hang on." Caressing the sides of her protruding belly, I lean down, leaving two kisses.

"Welcome home, my little pumpkins. Okay, before we get into Ben, tell me about what you need first. Food?"

"I'm tired and a little hungry," she admits.

"Hot?"

Bella places her hand on her hip. "Aren't I the hottest mama you've ever seen?"

"You are." I grin. "Would you like to swim before or after dinner?"

Her eyes narrow. "Are you trying to get me naked?"

"Always, Doc. Always." I pull off my T-shirt, tossing it onto the counter. "I'm a simple man. Your turn or I can help, if you need it."

Her eyes widen. "We're forgoing suits?"

"I'm game if you are."

"Damn." She licks her lips, and her eyes linger over my tattoos. "You're not playing fair. How can I resist?"

"You're not supposed to." I chuckle. "I'll grab us a couple of towels."

After a quick trip to the linen closet, I return to find Bella with her blouse untucked and open, while she struggles with the zipper of her skirt.

"Do Scout and Shadow need anything?" she asks.

"No. They're all good. Hey, I got this." Opening the zipper, I let her skirt fall to the floor, but there's no keeping my eyes off her chest. Or her tattoo.

"So, why was Ben here?" Bella steps out of her skirt while holding onto my shoulders.

"Ben's out."

"Out? What does that mean?"

I nod, setting her skirt on the closest stool. "He can't play, no games or practice. He needs surgery, which has been delayed until the end of our season."

"Oh, no. That sounds serious."

"It is." Sliding her blouse from her arms, I set it on top of her skirt. "Royce didn't want me to know, and I get that. He doesn't want anything to mess with the momentum we have going forward, but Ben thought I should know. You can't tell anyone."

Her brow furrows with confusion. "Okay. Does it change anything?"

"Not for me." After easing her panties to the floor, I unhook her bra, setting it and her underwear on her pile. "I'll continue to play each game one at a time. We can't get ahead of ourselves." Reaching for a towel, I wrap it around her naked body, then kiss her lips. "Now, tell me, what did Senior want?"

Bella reaches for her messenger bag, removing a file folder. "I have . . ." She smiles, setting a piece of paper on the island in front of me. "A new birth certificate."

My eyes scan the document, noticing his name listed as her father. "You do," I agree. "And . . . why do I feel as if there's more to this punchline?"

Her smile fades. "Every meeting with Roy is full of highs and lows."

I don't like the sound of that.

Sliding off my shorts and underwear in one smooth motion, I drop them on top of her clothes, then wrap a towel around my waist. There's no hiding my dick's reaction from my wife's eyes.

"Okay. So, what was good?" I prompt.

When her eyes finally find mine, she grins shamelessly. "You make it a real challenge to focus on my easily distracted brain."

I smirk, reaching for her hand. "Let's get in the pool. Ignore . . . me. I can't help it when my wife's nearby."

"My dear husband, there's no ignoring that." Bella giggles.

After leaving our towels on the pool deck, I guide her into the water.

Leaning backward, Bella wets her hair. "This feels incredible."

I turn her until her back is against my chest, which allows me to wrap my arms around her. "You feel incredible."

"Do I?"

"Always."

Moving to deeper water, I cup her belly lightly, then leave a kiss on the top of her head.

"Mmmm." She sighs contentedly. "What were we talking about?"

"The good. What was good in your meeting with Roy?" I remind her.

"Oh. We told Royce."

"Wow. Just like that?"

Bella nods. "Yeah. There isn't any easy way to share that type of information. He was shocked, but thrilled, as the news sank in. The two of us made tentative plans to have dinner together soon and talk."

"That will be good for both of you."

She turns around, treading water slightly.

"You can't touch here?"

"Barely."

I guide us toward a shallower portion of the pool. "Better?"

"Yeah. I also have my elevator key to fifty. I couldn't resist another look. And yes, there is a nursery decorated in neutral beiges and grays with two of everything, including cribs. Roy said they convert into toddler beds for when the twins are older."

"That's something we haven't considered yet. Or maybe Al has. I have no idea what he's doing upstairs," I admit.

It's been a while since I checked in with him about the nursery and Bella's new closet.

Bella laughs. "Me either. But in the nursery on fifty, there's a mural that's a world map on one wall with these small hot air balloons that appear to be floating along the ceiling. It's a dreamy adventure themed room full of stuffed animals, books, and toys. Oh, and there's a play tent and a gray toddler couch that's low to the floor. I wasn't sure if I could get up from it. So, I didn't try it out, but it looks comfy. There are two rocking chairs too."

"It sounds as if someone has created a special space with you in mind," I conclude.

"True." Bella smiles. "He's trying. And in the moments where he's genuine with me, I can't resist giving him the benefit of the doubt wherever possible."

"Understood. Now, tell me what upset you," I urge.

"Roy wants me to change my last name, and I told him absolutely not. It's nonnegotiable. I am and always will be a Swan. Period. End of discussion. I only added to my last name for you. That's not changing either."

"And how did he take that news?"

Bella huffs. "He was not pleased, but neither was I for him even asking for such a thing. And that's not all. Mom called during my drive home."

"Is she okay? They went to Houston yesterday, right?" I double-check.

"Yeah. It was her first trip back to continue with the clinical trial vaccine since her other treatments ended. She's exhausted, which is to be expected, but Mom received some Roy related news," Bella explains.

I shake my head slightly. "Why does that concern me?"

"Because we're all on edge where he's concerned. I'm trying to be open-minded about my relationship with him, but he does not make it easy. Every give and take consists of mental gymnastics that takes its toll on me, even if I wasn't pregnant." Bella lifts her hands out of the water in frustration. "I thought we would find a balance. We give a little, he gives a little. I just feel so on edge. One minute, I'm in control, and the next, he's requesting something else I didn't anticipate."

"An adjustment period seems expected and reasonable." I shrug.

"Jason warned that Roy will always be steps ahead of me. While that may be true, at this moment, I know that I'm capable of going toe-to-toe with Roy, but it's a struggle when he appears to be the only one with a playbook," she states. "Anyway, Mom called to let me know she received access to an account containing Roy's promise of eighteen years' worth of child support payments."

"What?"

"Oh. Yeah. I may have forgotten to tell you about that interesting little tidbit. I don't believe any of us thought Roy was serious when he mentioned the idea during our brunch, but Mom doesn't know what to do. Should she accept the money, refuse it, or donate it to a charity?"

"How much is it?"

"Just under five million dollars."

"Holy shit."

"Right? It feels a little like he's trying to buy Mom's loyalty or testing her. He did something similar with Victoria. I don't like the ramifications of what accepting the money would imply—that she's just another woman in his life, waiting for her pay day. Fuck that shit. It pisses me off. Or is he in some way justifying the money for Dad's compliance with the whole paternity thing?"

I shake my head. "What did Charlie say about the money?"

"Dad said they don't need it, and Mom should refuse it."

I chuckle at the thought. "I don't see Roy accepting it in return. Five million seems high to raise a kid."

"It did not cost five million to raise me, but Dad said the figure was based on a percentage of Roy's salary from my birth until I turned eighteen. After my previous discussion with Roy, he admitted to still supporting his ex-wives. The number is ridiculous, but maybe it's close to what he paid in child support for Royce," Bella concludes.

"Could be," I agree.

"I just hate that any money is being exchanged between them. Roy uses money to control people, and that's not going to fly with me. Or my parents." She shrugs, lost in her thoughts before returning her focus to me. "I'm sorry. I haven't even asked, how was your day?"

I grin. "Let's see. I'm married to the most beautiful and talented dentist in the world, who doesn't think twice about skinny dipping with me. Go me. As if that isn't enough, we're expecting not one but two of the most perfect little pumpkins ever to exist. And . . . I get paid to play my favorite sport every day. Doc, I don't know how it gets better than that."

Closing the short distance between us, Bella wraps her arms and legs around my body. With her bump between us, her eyes dance with mischief. "You get to have sex with me. That's how it gets better."

"Fuck yeah, I do." Planting a kiss firmly on her lips, I readjust my hold on her hips until my dick is nestled between her legs. "I'm having the best sex of my life with you. And you while pregnant? Fuck me, it's incredible."

"I have to admit, it's pretty good," she says teasingly.

"No. No. We're not doing that. You know I'm the best you've ever had or will have."

"Even when you're old and gray?"

"You won't be able to resist me then either."

Bella grins. "You may be right."

"Doc, I know I'm right."

/ /\ (oo) /\ \

Late Wednesday night, Vegas beats Vancouver to win their series and earn their spot in the Western Conference Final. With their win, we leave for Las Vegas after practice on Friday morning. It's been a wonderful break, spending the past week at home, especially with my wife, but we have more work to do—a conference title to win.

It isn't lost on me that we're playing Vegas who has been led by Chicago's former backup goaltender. When I turned down the trade they offered earlier this season, they inked the deal and Liam has been flawless in net, taking over as their starter.

Well, so have I. Maybe not flawless, but I'm right there, ready to battle every game.

Doing my best to eliminate distractions, I avoid the abundant chatter from the analysts, who all favor Vegas to win our series. According to them, Vegas has everything we lack, highlighting their fire power and momentum going into the series. We're getting zero credit for sweeping Nashville in four games, and most claim our current winning streak is a fluke. I call bullshit. Keep underestimating us, and we'll prove them wrong.

After tuning out the crowd and pregame spectacle in T-Mobile Arena on Saturday night, I'm ready for us to pick up where we left off. Once I settle in, it's another day at the office for me. I stop all thirty-nine shots Vegas sends my way. We score two goals, both in the third period. Marcus deflects one, while James sneaks a second chance opportunity past their goaltender on a power play. Happy for game one to fall in our favor, we take the win, knowing they'll come back more determined for game two. No team wants to lose two at home.

Showered and dressed, I'm relishing a moment of redemption since our last matchup against Vegas in March resulted in a loss with me in net. As one of the few who is ready to return to our hotel for the night, I notice when Coach steps into the room. Any earlier happiness over our win has vanished from his face. His eyes scan the room, landing on me.

Walking closer, he lowers his voice. "Edward."

I tamp down the growing unease when he doesn't use my nickname.

"Hey, Coach."

He thumbs toward the door behind him. "When you're ready, there's someone waiting for you outside."

"I'm ready now. Who is it?"

"Um, a security guard for Junior. He's here to escort you to the hospital," Coach explains.

Dread surges in my stomach. "Bella?"

"He didn't share any details, but you should go. Don't worry about . . . anything. Just let me know when you know more."

I nod. "I will."

"I'll go too." James stands, obviously overhearing our conversation.

"You don't—"

"I'm going with you," James states, leaving no room for discussion. "Do you have any calls or texts from Doc?"

I check my missed calls, voicemail, and text messages. "No. Nothing from her."

"Your sister? They were here tonight, right?"

Scanning my phone and double-checking my messages, my concern grows. "Yeah, they were here, but nothing from her either."

James nods. "Then let's go."

We meet and follow the security guard to a waiting SUV. While he reassures us that the hospital is a short distance away, I'm a bundle of nerves, unable to sit still the entire drive. When the vehicle stops, I open the door, making a beeline for the entrance with James trailing closely behind me.

Walking through the sliding doors, I scan the space, then approach a woman sitting at the large reception desk. When she sees me, she shares a polite smile. "Hello. How may I help you?"

"My name is Edward Cullen, and my wife was brought here this evening. Her name is Dr. Bella Swan-Cullen."

"Hmmm. I'm not seeing anyone listed under that name," she replies.

"It could be under Isabella," I suggest.

"Give me a minute and I'll try to locate her in our system."

Impatiently, I listen to the tapping of her keyboard and watch her eyes scan the monitor.

"Let's see, okay, I have a Cullen who arrived in the emergency room earlier, but it is not your wife."

Thank fucking goodness. I release a heavy sigh.

"Would you have another relative?"

"Mom?" I wonder. "Is it Esme Cullen?"

"No. Any other?"

I share a look at James, and he nods. Fuck. He's thinking what I'm thinking. There's only one other Cullen I know it could be.

"What about Carlisle?" James says. "Carlisle Cullen. His father."

"Ah . . . yes," she confirms, scanning the screen. "He was admitted earlier and will be moved to a room on the fifth floor. I don't have a room number yet, but you can check with the nurses' station. They will have more information, and there's also a waiting room nearby."

"Maybe that's where Doc is. And your sister," James suggests, then asks, "Elevators?"

She smiles. "Down this hallway and to your left."

"Thank you." He nods.

Once we're walking, I state, "It's not Bella."

"Not Bella," James repeats and places a hand on my shoulder.

"You have no idea how fucking relieved I am."

"Take a deep breath. Be easy. We'll find her and figure out what's up."

After punching the button, we wait in silence until James clears his throat, getting my attention.

"Since it's . . . him, maybe this is an opportunity to . . . I don't know—fix things." He shrugs. "A new opportunity to try again."

As the doors open and we step inside, I'm already shaking my head. "I don't see how. Every single fucking interaction we had before he disappeared was shit. He has taken zero accountability for his words and actions. Nothing. Nothing will be any different going forward. I'm not going upstairs for him. I'm going to support my family. My wife. My mother. My sister."

James watches me closely. "I get that, and you know I'm on your side. I always will be. I'm just saying, if something good can come from whatever has happened, I know you'll find it."

I chuckle sadly. "I appreciate your optimism and confidence in me, but where Dad is involved that's a huge ask."

Arriving on the fifth floor, the doors open and we exit the elevator. James pushes open the double doors and walks toward the nurses' station. As I trail behind him, I notice the word "Cardiology," then the waiting room where my family sits inside.

"Uncle Edward!" Katie yells, hurrying toward me.

Scooping her into my arms, I hug her tight, then leave a kiss on her forehead. "Hey, sweetie. What's going on?"

"Everything is a disaster. Grandpa's heart is broken, but Dr. Bella saved him, and now he's having surgery. Mama says we have to be patient, and we can't go to the vending machine again."

Dear heavens, I love this kid. Such a straight shooter.

Glancing around the small room at the worried faces of Rose, Em, Austin, and Eric, two are missing. "Where's Bella?"

"She went to use the restroom," Rose replies.

"Mom?"

"She went to find a cup of coffee." My sister stands. "Katie, why don't you stay here with your dad, while I speak with your uncle?"

"No." She grips me tighter.

"I'm not going anywhere. We'll be right back," I reassure her with a light pat to her back.

Her glassy eyes find mine. "Promise?"

"I promise."

Katie reluctantly releases her hold on me, then Rose guides me away from the others.

Blowing out a heavy sigh, I ask, "What happened?"

"The short answer?"

I nod.

"He had a heart attack. Long answer: Dad showed up for the game and joined us in Bella's suite. I was so excited he made it, but he looked . . . frail and . . ." Rose whispers. "Beaten. He has a beard, which knowing him is not by choice, and his clothes were a dirty, rumpled mess. I didn't ask any questions, but clearly, he's lost weight. So, I encouraged him to eat. Who knows when he last ate? But I could tell something was off. He was struggling to form a coherent thought when Em was speaking with him."

"Was he drunk?" I wonder.

"I don't believe so. I didn't smell any alcohol on his breath. He didn't get anything from the bar."

"Did he talk to Bella? Apologize?"

"You'll have to ask her. I only heard her greet him, and I didn't see them talking," Rose shares.

"So, probably not," I conclude. "Katie said Bella saved him? What does that mean?"

Rose nods. "He collapsed, clutching his chest. I yelled for Bella's help, and she did a quick assessment, performing CPR until the medics arrived. Bella was the one who rode with him in the ambulance. I offered, but she said Em and I should stay with the kids."

"Holy shit. I need to find her. And Mom? How is she doing?"

"Mom didn't say it, but I know she doesn't want to be here. She probably went to Seattle for that cup of coffee." Rose huffs. "He's still her husband for goodness' sake. In the suite, Mom was upset at the sight of him, and she refused to accompany him in the ambulance."

"Dear Lord, Rose. Do you blame her? What he's put her through . . . and us."

"I know, but . . ."

"Never mind." With a shake of my head, I ask, "What's his current status?"

"In surgery. The nurse said that his doctor will update us once the surgery is complete."

"Okay, I'll be back. I'm going to find my wife."

Rose nods. "Bathrooms are through the doors and down the hall on the right."

"Got it."

When I locate the women's restroom, there's a slightly taller, intimidating man standing guard outside.

"Hey."

No response.

I point to the door behind him. "I believe my wife is in there."

His eyes narrow before looking me over from head to toe.

"Her name is Dr. Bella Swan-Cullen," I explain.

He blinks but doesn't move out of my way.

Reaching for my wallet, I remove my driver's license. "I'm Edward Cullen. Her husband."

His eyes shift quickly from my identification to my face, and he smirks. "I know who you are."

"Great." I return my license to my wallet, sliding it into my back pocket.

When I attempt to squeeze past him toward the door, he closes the distance, preventing me from moving forward.

"She's upset," he warns.

"I understand."

At his nod, he steps to the side, and I push open the door, not seeing anyone at the counter. The door closes softly, and I listen, hearing her sniffs coming from one of the stalls.

"Bella?"

The sniffing stops.

"Edward?" The door flies open, and once her eyes meet mine, she rushes toward me. "Thank goodness. You're here."

"I'm here." I kiss the top of her head, filled with relief to hold her in my arms. "You have no idea how worried I was, thinking something could be wrong with you or the twins."

She pulls away slightly. "Rose and I tried to text you when we had a chance, but I don't think our messages went through."

"I didn't get them." I lean against the counter and guide her to stand between my legs.

"I had one bar on my phone at best. How are you here?" Bella asks.

"After the game, a security guard was waiting outside our locker room and brought me here," I explain. "One of Royce's?"

She nods. "Of course. Our suites were next to each other. He would know. Or I should say his security would know, which is really our security."

"You have your own security guard now? Not that I object because your safety and the safety of the twins is important, but I was lucky to be allowed in here." I tease, "The frisking was invasive. I would only submit to that for you."

"I'll bet." Bella chuckles. "We had an argument about me riding in the ambulance. There was a scramble for a new, acceptable plan, and he ended up following us here in another vehicle."

My eyes find hers. "You know CPR."

"It's always been a part of my medical training. I am a doctor." Her face crumbles at her next thought, and she struggles to get the words out above a whisper. "I was so scared. He was unresponsive and had stopped breathing. And the kids saw it all go down. I can't imagine what they're thinking. Katie hasn't left my side since they got here, but I needed a moment for me."

"They'll be fine. Rose and Em will make sure of it," I reassure. "Katie included."

"I'm hiding out a little," Bella admits. "I just needed time to collect my thoughts and give myself some space to breathe. And cry. It will be easier to face everyone once I get it out."

I rub her arms lightly. "It's okay for them to see you cry."

"Deedee left with Alec not long ago. They were going back to the hotel. She offered to take Austin and Eric, but they didn't want to leave. And Carlisle . . ." Bella shakes her head before bursting into tears again.

"Awww, Bella." I pull her into an embrace. "You did everything you could."

"But was it enough?" she asks, looking up at me. "He's not in a good place. When you see him . . . he doesn't look anything like he did when we last saw him. He's a shadow of his former self. I understand that our relationship—your relationship with him is strained, but I think we need to intervene before it's too late. And I have no idea what that looks like."

"He's been horrible to all of us, especially to you and me," I remind her. "I'm not going to forget that."

"I'm not asking you to forget. I'm asking you to forgive," she says tearfully. "Carlisle was there tonight. He showed up for the game, despite how he may feel about me. He was there for you."

Forgiveness.

That's a big hill to climb. First James and now Bella.

I know Dad was only there for himself, but I don't voice my disagreement.

My wife is lost in thought, then smiles briefly. "I didn't get to see the end of the game, but Emmett said you won."

I grin, lightly caressing her belly. "We did."

"Congratulations. One goal is all you need, but two is a nice cushion," Bella says with confidence.

"Listen to you." I chuckle. "My hockey heart has never been so proud. I think it just grew two sizes larger."

"I seriously doubt that's what grew." My wife laughs.

There's a knock on the door, and the security guard pokes his head inside.

"Excuse me, Dr. Swan-Cullen?"

"I told you, it's Bella," she corrects.

"With all due respect, that's not possible. I like my job, and I want to keep it. Mr. King made it clear—"

Bella cuts him off. "If Roy fires you for adhering to my request, I will rehire you, and he won't be able to do a damn thing about it."

The guard considers her words, but it's obvious he's apprehensive about accepting her guarantee when he still refuses to use her first name.

"Ma'am," he starts, "a Mr. Hunter is outside, and he wants you to know that the surgeon is on her way to speak with your family."

"Okay. Thank you."

After delivering the message, he lets the door close softly, leaving us alone.

Bella tilts her head in question. "James is here?"

I nod. "If something was wrong with you or the twins, he didn't want me to be alone."

"I'm okay. We're okay," she reassures me through glassy eyes before kissing my lips firmly.

I'm not convinced when I found her in tears, while hiding out in a bathroom alone.

"It's okay, if you aren't."

Bella sighs, then combs her fingers through my hair gingerly. "Physically, we're okay. How about that?"

"Better, but stress isn't good on you or the babies."

"I know." She slides her hand in mine. "Do you have to be back at the hotel by a certain time? Isn't it already past curfew?"

"It's okay. James or I will let Coach know what's going on. He knows I'm here. James plans to return to our hotel, but I'm going to stay with you tonight at yours. I'll rejoin the team after I've had some sleep. We have practice in the morning, but I guess I'll check in with you or Rose in the afternoon on any changes with his progress. Given the situation, it's the best I can do."

With her nod, Bella leads me toward the door. "Okay. Let's find out what the surgeon has to say."

/ /\ (oo) /\ \

In the early morning hours, Bella squeezes my hand in support as we listen to the constant whirls and beeps of the machines surrounding his bed in the dimly lit room. Under our curious gaze, a nurse quietly checks the tubes, drains, and external monitors attached to his skin.

James left after we heard from the surgeon. Rose, Emmett, and the kids departed with Mom for their hotel not long ago. We're the last ones here. Bella thinks I should have a moment alone with him, but I'm not so sure.

"At least this confirms he has a heart."

Bella smiles sadly, then whispers, "I'll wait outside."

"Okay. I won't be long," I promise.

After a quick kiss, she leaves, and my eyes travel over his battered body. I notice a few healing cuts and greenish-blue bruises on his face, but recovering from triple-bypass surgery takes precedence over everything else. He will remain here for about a week, and I have no idea where he will go after that.

Rose wants to bring him to Dallas, suggesting he stay at their home, while Mom's silence was deafening. I doubt he will want to leave Las Vegas, and maybe some distance between us is for the best. We could find somewhere here for him to recover. Or he remains wherever he's been staying with someone checking on him frequently.

The nurse waves toward the empty chair next to his bed. "You're welcome to sit."

I nod, but don't move from my spot, leaning against the sill of the window.

"When is your wife due?" she asks softly.

There's no containing my smile. "October."

"Do you know what you're having?"

I chuckle. "Twins."

"How wonderful. Is your father excited?"

My joy fades quickly, recalling his disrespect that ended with my fist meeting his face. "He doesn't know we're having twins. At least, I don't think he knows. We've . . . lost touch. Maybe my sister told him."

"I see. May I offer you a piece of advice?"

"Sure."

"Studies have found there are emotional and physiological benefits to speaking with ventilated and sedated patients. It isn't my business, but if you've been struggling to have a conversation and be . . . heard, he has no choice but to listen right now."

"Good to know."

She smiles. "Congratulations to you and your wife."

"Thanks."

With her quiet departure, I release a steady breath, turning to stare out the window at the orange glow of parking lot lights in the distance.

"Another conversation. Not something we're good at lately. I don't know what to say that I haven't already said." I listen to the hypnotic rhythm of the machines.

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

"Or maybe I just need to say what no one else will."

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

I pull the chair at his bedside closer to the wall, then settle into the spot. "How about we start here? You haven't done a single thing to warrant anyone's tears, especially my wife's over saving your life. But I know you. You'll never utter a simple 'thank you' for what Bella did without a second thought. Shame on you for that."

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

"Mom deserves better. We all do. Your latest . . . disappearing act is one of your shittier moves, but not unexpected. Even after you've taken advantage of Rose, she still refuses to give up on you. No surprise there, but that's not the case with Mom. Whatever you said stuck this time. She's done. If that was your goal, way to go. Mission accomplished."

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

After sitting in silence for a while, I scrub my hands over my face. "Not that you care, but if you weren't paying attention earlier, I'm going to be the father of twins. The good news is that I know what not to do. Thanks for that."

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

"Fuck. I don't see how this is helping either of us. I sound like some jaded asshole. Unfortunately, this is what our relationship has been reduced to—me being defensive, even when you're unable to respond." My eyes travel over his face and body, noticing the weight loss Rose mentioned earlier.

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

"Your doctor said the surgery could give you another eight to ten years. That's the best case scenario, if you make some changes. I guess it's up to you how you'll climb out of this hole you've dug for yourself. You've made it abundantly clear that you don't want or need our help."

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

"How's that working out for you? Good? It doesn't look so good. You look like shit."

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

"And you make me feel so fucking . . . how do I find an ounce of sympathy for someone who treated his own family the way you have? You only care about yourself. That's the truth. You and Jake with your scheming. Where is he now? I guess you weren't as close as you thought. He isn't here and yet I am. Let that marinate for a bit. You have time."

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

"Dad . . ." The words get caught in my throat, and I struggle to force them out.

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

"I'm tired. I'm tired of never meeting your expectations. I'm tired of never being enough for you. I can't remember the last time you said that you were proud of me. Or-or that you love me."

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

"I guess, you shouldn't say the words if you don't mean them." I sniff away the tears, then release a heavy sigh.

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

"My kids will always know how proud of them I am. How important they are. And loved."

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

"I have practice in the morning, but I'll check in to find out how you're doing from Rose. We play again on Monday night. Your breathing tube should be out by then. Your doctor said twenty-four hours. Maybe you'll want to watch the game." I shrug.

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

"Or not."

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

"We won game one in case no one told you. I had a shutout. Saved thirty-nine. We've been on a winning streak. Eight games. It's all anyone wants to talk about, as if they can't believe it's our team who is on it. I can believe it."

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

I sigh. "You're probably part of the skeptics."

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

With a shake of my head, I stand. "I'm gonna go. Bella is waiting for me. We both need sleep, and I don't want to keep her waiting any longer."

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

"I . . . I think the next move is yours. You know where to find me."

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

/ /\ (oo) /\ \

Monday night, James and I reluctantly take a seat at the table in the front of the press area for post-game interviews. After game two, our one-seven loss to Vegas evens the series at one game each. Neither of us wants to be here, but we're ready to put this one behind us and return home.

"Good evening, everyone." The room quiets. "From the Dallas Stars, James Hunter and Edward Cullen are here to answer your questions. Coach Roger Clapton will follow." The woman smiles, then moves to the side of the room.

James nods. "Let's get this over with. You."

A reporter in the front asks, "With tonight's loss and the end of your eight game winning streak—"

James interrupts, "No questions about the streak. I'm sick of hearing about it. Stop talking about it. You're done. Next person."

Another reporter raises his hand. "Edward, there have been unconfirmed reports that you stepped away from the team recently for personal reasons and that could be attributed to your lack of focus tonight. Would you care to elaborate?"

"No." I cross my arms over my chest.

James jumps in again. "Wait a minute. No one is more focused on the ice than Spider. So, stop with those bullshit questions. In case you weren't watching the same game I was, the problem was not him, but what we were doing in front of him. We must control the puck, finish our checks, and stay out of the penalty box. That got us in trouble tonight. They have a great power play—both units. We need to keep them off the ice."

Someone in the back asks, "Edward, any thoughts about Caius's accidental goal?"

I shrug. "It happens."

Another reporter asks, "Even though you stayed in the game, any lingering issues after the collision near the end of the second period?"

I can feel James's focus shift to me. He's concerned too. I need to squash any doubts.

"I'm fine," I state, hoping the tenderness I'm feeling in my hip will fade in the next few days.

"Edward, will you change anything going into the next game?"

"No."

Another question from someone near the back of the press area asks, "Will Ben be rejoining the team soon? Is he practicing away from the team? What's his current status?"

James answers, "Those are questions for Coach. I think we're done here. We have a plane to catch and games to win."

/ /\ (oo) /\ \

Some teams minimize distractions during playoff home games by staying together in a local hotel. While we discussed the possibilities, Coach left the decision up to us, and there was little doubt that I would choose staying at home with Bella, which always revitalizes me. Everyone agreed, opting for our own homes and beds. I hope it's the right move. I take extra care during my stretching routines and don't miss time on the tables with our massage therapists.

The extra attention to my hip leaves me feeling warm, loose, and ready Wednesday night at American Airlines Center. While more time to rest and recover would be ideal, it's a luxury I don't have. With the noise levels off the charts, I tune everything out and get to work once the puck drops. We remain scoreless through the first period. In the second, I lose track of the puck and Vegas scores, putting them on the board first. Thirteen seconds later, Tyler gets a breakaway and backhands the puck into the net, evening the score at one each.

It's a game of tit for tat in the third period. Vegas banks a shot off me from the side of the net, putting them into the lead, but it's Caius who answers back in a frantic scramble on the other end of the ice. When the horn sounds at the end of regulation, we remain tied two-two. After facing forty-two shots, my hip is tender again, feeling the fatigue, but I'm hopeful overtime will be short. It is, but not in our favor when Vegas fires a puck past me that I never see less than a minute into overtime. We lose game three with a final score of two-three.

While this game could have gone either way, we're now trailing in the series, but I'm confident that we'll get the next one. Thankfully, I'm off the hook for any post-game press, and once I'm ready, I exit our locker room to find my wife waiting for me with Deedee.

/ /\ (oo) /\ \

Friday night, we return to American Airlines Center for game four, but when I see Marcus in the garage before the game, he's vibrating with excitement.

"Spider!"

"Hey, Volts." We match strides approaching security. "What's good?"

"Oh, I don't know—maybe everything!" Marcus grins. "We received good news today."

"Good news is always welcome. What happened?" I ask.

Once we're through the security checkpoint, he shares, "We're getting the kids early. Our adoption has been expedited. I think Doc had something to do with that."

"She did?"

"That's what Dee said. Or maybe it was Doc's lawyer. Either way, it's exciting. We're ready. Or I should say I am." He lowers his voice. "Dee is fretting over every little detail, but that's how she is. I assembled Teonna's princess bed last night, and it just hit me. After all these years of hoping . . . and trying, our family is doubling from three to six. We're going to be a family of six. It blows me away."

"I'm happy for you." I smile, then whisper, "How's Deedee's pregnancy going?"

Marcus shrugs. "Good. I think she's nervous to mention it to anyone. We're still keeping it under wraps. You two know and our families. Everything is progressing as it should. No surprises or worries. Although, Deedee worries enough for both of us."

"At Doc's next appointment, we're hoping to find out the gender of the twins," I share quietly.

With a nod, Marcus smiles. "Cool. We did that with Alec, but we've decided not to find out on this one. We'll save that surprise for the delivery. Dee's health and happiness are our priority right now."

"I hear that. None of this matters if I don't have Doc."

Marcus smiles. "Man, look how much everything has changed for us this season."

"Right? It's amazing to think about how far we've come in such a short time." I chuckle.

"We just need one more thing." Marcus sighs. "It might be my last shot. I need to make every game count and know that I left it all out there, whatever the final outcome could be."

"I hear where you're coming from." I grin. "Let's go win this game—that's how we'll get there."

"You got it."

Once we take the ice for game four, Marcus plays with more determination and physicality than I have seen from him previously. James, Marcus, Tyler, and Caius all go to work on the other end of the ice, screening Vegas's goaltender until he's out of position and scrambling for every save. I keep my net clean, but during one save, my leg fully extends at an angle that reignites the burning in my hip.

After the whistle blows, I return upright, striding gingerly to the boards and back to the net. Once the burn fades, my eyes meet James's filled with concern. At my nod of reassurance, he moves to the face-off circle, and I reset into position. I've played through worse—a win tonight is far more important. While the game remains scoreless after the first period, we're on the power play in the second when Marcus redirects a puck into the net. As the goal horn blasts, he lifts his arms in the air, and the building erupts in celebration, and we end the second period with the lead—one-zero.

Taking the ice for the final twenty minutes of regulation, our game plan is to drain the clock wherever possible. It's a strategy we used successfully against Nashville by staying out of the box and controlling the puck. Two minutes into the period, we're passing the puck around the zone while searching for an opening. When Demir sees one, he launches a monster slap shot from the blue line, blasting the puck past their goaltender. The crowd goes wild with excitement at our two-zero lead. Every little bit helps. Watching the overhead replay, the speed of Demir's slapper clocks in at over 102 miles per hour. It could be his fastest in-game shot yet.

With just under three minutes left, Vegas pulls their goalie for an extra attacker. Digging in, I fight off the flurry of shots from what feels like every direction. To my disappointment, a puck I thought was in my equipment crosses the goal line behind me. As the ref makes the call on the ice of a goal, the Vegas players celebrate. After watching the overhead replay, it's difficult to see if the puck completely crosses the goal line before Demir's stick pulls it out of the net, and the refs gather for an official review. A decision doesn't take long, and the goal stands, taking away the hope for a shutout, but not the win.

Once the puck drops at center ice, Vegas wins the face-off and their goaltender rushes to the bench. With time running out, our fourth line keeps the puck in the corners, trapping it against the wall as the seconds tick away. When the final horn sounds, we hold on to win—two-one.

After congratulations from my teammates, we exit the ice quickly, ready to complete our post-game workouts. While I would love to spend time celebrating our win with my wife, we're scheduled to depart for Vegas tonight. After meeting her outside our locker room, I steal a few kisses, then return to a treatment room, where work on the soreness in my hip begins immediately. With the series even at two games each, I'm hoping we can build off tonight's win and take another step closer toward making history.

/ /\ (oo) /\ \

Saturday evening, I wake from my nap and check my messages, noticing one from Bella.

We made it to our hotel.
Call me when you have time.
I have exciting news.
I think.

I can't resist that type of message and call her.

She answers immediately. "You're not going to believe it."

"What happened?"

"I felt the babies kick."

"What?"

"Yeah. I've been feeling these little flutters lately, which were odd. But I was resting my hand over my belly, and I felt it. A little nudge."

"I'm coming over."

"No! You need to stay with the team."

"The fuck I will. I need my team. I'll only stay until curfew."

"It may not happen again," she warns.

"I'll take the chance that it will."

"Okay, see you soon. Wait—tell your coach so he knows where you are. Have you eaten?"

"Not recently. We have a team dinner scheduled."

"I'll order room service."

"You know what I need."

"I do."

"Are you alone?"

"Yeah. Your mom, Deedee, and Alec went to the pool. Everyone else went to visit . . ."

Dad.

He's still in the hospital, but the last I heard from Rose, they are planning to discharge him soon. According to my sister, he wants to stay in Las Vegas, but she has other plans that I'm hoping to stay out of at the moment.

"Got it. Okay. On my way."

/ /\ (oo) /\ \

After winning game five on Sunday night, I'm the first one on the plane, ready to return home. I have yet to feel the babies move despite my visit to Bella's hotel room, but most importantly, we have our next prenatal visit later today.

I have the day off, and thankfully, Victoria is covering for Bella at the office, allowing us an easy day to recover from the trip. Every chance I get, I keep my hands on her belly, hoping for my own little nudge from one of the twins, but so far, I've gotten nothing.

We arrive, excited and anxious, for what could be my favorite appointment yet.

The receptionist smiles at my wife. "Your name?"

"Bella Swan-Cullen. I checked in online."

"Perfect. I'll let them know you're here."

"Okay."

We settle into a couple of chairs away from the other waiting patients.

I grin. "Are you excited?"

My radiant wife looks up at me. "Yes. Are you excited?"

"Extremely."

"You look tired."

I nod. "I wouldn't turn down another nap. It was a late night, but I'm glad not to miss this."

"We'll take one after we get home. We could have rescheduled this appointment," Bella suggests.

"Not a chance."

The door opens and the nurse says, "Bella?"

My wife stands. "That's me."

I smile, following her as the door closes heavily behind us. We stop at the scale, and Bella steps on briefly. The nurse notes her weight, then waves Bella into the lab area for a blood draw while I'm directed to the ultrasound room to wait. We'll meet with her doctor after the scan.

Arriving alone, I knock on the door, prompting a smile from the technician, who isn't the same one we had last time.

"My wife, Bella, is on her way. Just a quick stop in the lab," I say.

"Great. You can have a seat in the chair next to the table." She points at the logo on my black polo. "Are you a hockey fan?"

I grin. "Yeah."

She returns to typing on the computer. "It looks as if they have a chance this year."

"I agree."

"Or at least that's what my husband says. He's always watching a game. I don't watch it that closely," she admits.

There's a light knock on the door as Bella enters.

She always puts a smile on my face. "There she is."

The technician grins. "Hi, Bella. Go ahead and sit on the table. I'll adjust it to make you the most comfortable."

I stand, hold out my hand, and help steady her as she moves into position.

"All good?"

Bella smiles. "All good, but I'm looking forward to using the restroom after this."

"I understand you're uncomfortable, but I promise, a full bladder will give us the best look at your little ones."

"What were you two talking about before I arrived?"

The woman answers, "Hockey. I noticed the logo on your husband's shirt and suspected he's a fan. My husband talks about it night and day."

My wife laughs. "Same."

The technician looks at me. "I thought so. It's okay to admit it," she teases.

"All right. I'll admit it." I grin. "I'm a huge fan of the sport."

"Any of the players could shop at my grocery store and I doubt I would recognize them. My husband, on the other hand, would be tripping over himself for an autograph. Here—sign my loaf of bread or whatever is in his cart—a case of beer, bag of chips. I picture him hurdling small children, running to the school supplies aisle, and ripping open a package with permanent markers." The woman laughs. "Didn't they win last night?"

Scooting my chair closer to the table, I nod. "In overtime. Four-three. The goaltender was incredible." I wink at my wife, who can barely contain her giggles.

The technician adjusts her rolling stool. "Who are they playing? Wait, I know." She thinks for a moment. "Or maybe I don't know. It's a series, right?"

"Vegas. It's the first team to win four games out of a possible seven," I explain. "Now the series is three games to two."

"Got it. Okay, let's get to why you're here today, but first I want to double-check. If your little ones will cooperate with us, are we all positive that you want to know their genders?" she asks.

Bella grins. "We're positive."

"Definitely," I agree.

"Okay, let me just add a few notes into your information." The woman lowers her voice. "Where's your file? I just had it. Oh, here it is. Bella Swan-Cullen. Hmmm. Cullen. That sounds familiar."

My eyes meet my wife's. She snorts.

I shrug, then downplay. "It's a common last name."

"There we go. I'm ready. Bella, go ahead and raise your blouse. I'll grab some gel." With a tube in hand, she warns. "This will be cold."

"Sounds good. I'm hot all the time these days."

After a generous squeeze, the tech dabs the wand in the gel, then glides it over Bella's protruding belly. We listen expectantly to the clicks and clacks on her keyboard, while the three of us watch the screen.

Bella gasps when she sees the first twin.

"There's Twin A." The technician holds the wand in place and taps a button, filling the room with a steady, rapid heartbeat.

I slide my hand into Bella's. We share a grin before I kiss her forehead.

"Today, we will label them as Twin A and Twin B for now, but that will probably change at birth. The first one to emerge will be Twin A, then the second will be Twin B."

Bella whispers, "You were Twin B."

"Dad, you were a twin?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, let's see if Twin A will cooperate . . ." The technician moves the wand. "There. Oh, this is a great view. We're looking at your baby's bottom. These are the femurs." After muting the sound, she enlarges the image slightly. "Can you tell?"

I can't see anything. It's a bunch of gray blobs. Bella snickers, then looks at me with a wide grin.

"You can tell?" I ask.

She nods. "I can tell."

"Then one of you tell me."

Bella points toward the screen. "Twin A definitely takes after . . . you."

"It's a boy?"

While moving the cursor to the light gray area in question, the tech smiles. "Twin A is a boy."

"We're having a boy?"

Bella smiles, squeezing my hand. "At least one."

We're having a son.

Fuck. I may cry.

"I'll print a few photos to take with you today. This is a great one. Let me finish taking measurements for Twin A, then we'll check on Twin B."

I kiss Bella's lips lightly. The sound of the printer humming keeps the smiles on both of our faces. We're quiet, not so patiently waiting, when the tech moves the wand to a new area.

"And . . . here is Twin B. Not a great view from here, but I'll grab a couple of measurements, then we'll try another angle." She presses a button, and the sound of our little one's heartbeat fills the room.

Bella smiles. "That never gets old."

"I agree."

The technician continues tapping on her keyboard. She shifts the wand into a new position. "That's better. Dad, what do you think?"

I shake my head while my eyes travel over the screen. "I don't know."

"Ah . . . Twin B is a wiggler. Let me try again. Here. Same as before." She mutes the sound and moves her cursor over the lighter areas. "These are the femurs."

"I don't see anything like last time. So . . . it's a girl?" My eyes find Bella's.

She's already nodding and the printer hums, printing a new photo.

The tech chuckles. "Twin B is a girl."

"Wow. We're having a boy and a girl?" I blow out a heavy breath, then struggle to get the next words out above a whisper. "It's like me and Rose."

Bella's eyes fill with tears. "Just like you and Rose."

"This is going to be so good."

My wife nods. "Incredible."

"A son and a daughter. I may burst with joy."

"Same."

We kiss, then I ask Bella, "Are we telling anyone?"

My wife pauses to consider my question. "I say we give this a chance to sink in before sharing the news."

"Okay."

The technician grabs several tissues and wipes away the gel. Once she's done, I lightly rub my hands over Bella's abdomen.

"Come on, Twin B. I saw you're a wiggler—give your daddy a little nudge."

"Is this how she becomes a daddy's girl?" Bella chuckles.

I grin. "Maybe."

"Maybe . . . we share our news tomorrow?" my wife suggests.

Stilling my hands, I nod and wait. "As if you won't be texting someone on our way home."

"You don't think I can keep a secret?"

With a shake of my head, I smile. "You have many strengths, my beautiful Doc, but keeping secrets isn't one of them."

"Oh, really? I think I'm an excellent secret keeper." She pretends to be offended. "Besides, who would I text?"

"I don't know." I can't resist teasing her. "Your parents. Al and Garrett. Deedee. Victoria. Rose. My mom . . . the list—"

"I get it, but knowing feels good. I want to share our joy so that they can bask in the good vibes too."

The technician hands Bella the printouts of the twins. "For your refrigerator. Baby books. Or wherever." She notices my hands and smiles reassuringly. "Patience, Dad. You'll feel them soon."

/ /\ (oo) /\ \

I'm not patient and neither are my teammates. We're eager and ready. With warmups complete, I'm waiting for the signal to lead us onto the ice Tuesday night at American Airlines Center, where our fans are waiting for game six to begin. Leading the series three games to two, we're one win away from winning the Western Conference title.

It's in our genetic makeup to want to win every time we step on the ice, regardless of where we play, but to win at home—in front of our fans tonight—would be special. On the other side of the ice is a roster fighting to extend their season by at least another game. No one in our locker room wants to go back to Vegas for a game seven—especially me. I'm ready to do my part in ending their season now.

Even though we didn't practice yesterday, I stretched, hoping to stay on top of the soreness in my hip. My stretching also coincided with a little yoga and meditation after we returned home from Bella's appointment. And by "yoga and meditation," I mean sex and a nap with zero complaints from my wife. No matter how much I enjoy distracting her with my tattoos, it's only temporary when she's quick to notice fresh bruises or when I'm moving more cautiously than normal. Bella didn't say a word yesterday or this morning, which tells me the care we've been giving my hip could be helping, despite any lingering tenderness.

A tap on my pads from James's stick gets my attention and I realize it's go time. With a nod, I lead our team out onto the ice. Tuning out the blasting music, the screaming fans, and the pregame activities, I settle into the crease. From the drop of the puck, Vegas brings the heat with shot after shot while creating as much confusion around the net as possible. During the first period, my stick flies out of my hand, landing somewhere out of my view. Without any idea where it could be, I continue tracking the puck until I'm able to make a save, covering the puck with my glove. After the whistle, I retrieve my stick from behind the net, happy to have it back in my hand.

The game remains scoreless after the first period, but in the second, Tyler and James are charging down the ice on a two-on-one breakaway. After a little give and go, Tyler taps the puck past their goaltender and the ref extends his arm at the net. As the goal horn blows loudly, the entire building erupts in celebration, singing along with the music. Vegas's coach is screaming his adamant displeasure from the bench while pointing at the blue line.

The refs gather briefly before announcing at center ice that the call on the ice is under review for offside. With the headsets on, the refs rewatch the entry into the zone on handheld devices, while the crowd quiets, watching the overhead replay. From what I can see, it's too close to determine from the camera angles shown if Tyler entered the zone before the puck or not. When a decision is made, the ref announces that the call on the ice stands, and we have a good goal, sending the building into chaotic jubilation once again.

Our power play unit steps onto the ice, ready to capitalize on our two-minute advantage. Tyler strikes again, firing another puck into the net while everyone in the building is on their feet. There's a slight delay in dropping the puck at center ice as Vegas's coach watches their replay monitor, hoping to find any sign of goaltender interference. When there isn't any to be found, he shakes his head at the linesman and play continues with our lead, two-zero.

Vegas wins the face-off and carries the puck into the zone with a quick shot that hits my helmet, popping one of my straps loose. At the unsettling feeling, I struggle to maintain my focus, relieved to hear the whistle when the puck hits the net above the glass, stopping play. Removing my helmet, I attempt to fix it myself, but when that doesn't work, I skate to the bench and wait for our equipment manager to make a repair. With an urging from the linesman for play to continue, it looks as if the repair will take longer than we're allowed. Stefan hands me one of my backup helmets. After I slide it in place, I return to my crease, fighting off a handful of shots before the end of the second period.

Going into the third, the supercharged energy coming out of our locker room is electric. While anything can happen in the remaining twenty minutes, I have a shutout to protect, Tyler is on the verge of a hat trick, and the possibility of us ending this series tonight weighs heavily in our favor. We've been here before. We know what to do and how to do it. It's time to go to work. There's no quit in Vegas's game, and they continue to blast pucks at me until one sails over my shoulder, putting them on the scoreboard and ending my hope for a shutout.

With our lead cut to one goal, Coach modifies our game plan during a television timeout. Our strategy isn't only to drain the clock but also to pummel their players so that they physically have nothing left. It's a big ask, but with renewed determination, we're ready to end this now. When two and a half minutes remain in the period, Vegas pulls their goaltender for the extra attacker. It's an onslaught of shots, but I block or save everything that comes near me, keeping the puck in play while eating up those precious seconds. James intercepts the puck and whips it toward the other end of the ice. The puck rockets into the back of the net, sending our fans to their feet as the building erupts once more.

When the final horn blasts, we win game six with a final score of three-one, ending the series. We're the Best of the West—the Western Conference Champs. After congratulations from my team, I scan the suites for Deedee's box. When I locate Bella, she's standing with Senior at her side. There's no containing my smile while she cheers and blows kisses my way. I follow my teammates as we meet the Vegas players at center ice for handshakes.

Once we return to our bench, we wait for the trophy presentation. There's always a question of whether or not to touch the trophy. Most hockey players are superstitious, believing it affects the final outcome of the next round—the Stanley Cup Finals. When we're announced as the winners of the Campbell Bowl, we skate together and gather around it for a team photo. Following James's decision, no one touches the trophy. We don't want to tempt fate, needing all the luck we can get.

We know who we're playing next. They finished their series last night in five games. In less than a week, we'll fly with heavy hearts to Amalie Arena where the Tampa Bay Lightning are waiting for our arrival.

And that means . . . Vladdy is too.