Christmas Day was great—and not because Holly had moved from Julie Andrews to catching up on Game of Thrones.

Although let me point out that watching naked women on TV is a lesson in torture when the woman you’re dying to have sex with is sick.

The kind of torture where you have to excuse yourself so you can jack off in the shower or else die from an excruciating case of blue balls. The guys on the show who were being slaughtered? They had it easier. Their deaths were at least quick.

New Year’s Eve was the best too—especially since Holly had no longer felt as though she was dying from the plague.

So, let’s flash-forward to the beginning of February…

Oh, you were wondering what happened the next morning after I’d blurted out “I love you” to Holly on Christmas Eve?

Nothing.

Abso-fucking-lutely nothing.

She never mentioned it the next day, so I wasn’t sure if she had heard me when I said it. Or if she’d heard me but didn’t feel the same way so was avoiding the topic.

I never said it again—possibly because a part of me feared she would tell me she loved me back, but once Noah was born, she’d feel differently about me. Right now her hormones were all over the place—so who knew what she was really feeling?

Okay, truthfully? I was a coward. Too many uncertainties existed when it came to our future together, and that scared the shit out of me.

And yes, I had meant it when I told her I loved her. Except it hadn’t dawned on me until I’d blurted out the three simple words that I really did love her. I had just been too much of an idiot to realize I’d been falling in love with her for the past few months.

Anyway, back to the here and now—in the dressing room, getting ready for our game against the Penguins.

“Where’s Jyri?” I asked Travis. Jyri was usually the first one here, stretching. The guy near the entrance to the shower area? The one doing the splits? That was our backup goalie, Matti.

Travis shrugged at my question. “No idea. I saw him not long ago, talking to coach Fusco.”

“He’s not injured, is he?” That was the only reason I could come up with for why he wasn’t here yet.

“Not that I know of. He seemed fine during practice this morning.”

The door opened and Fusco entered with a player who looked vaguely familiar and was in full goalie gear.

Oh, this wasn’t good.

Not good at all.

My gaze slid to the other two members of HDF. They were thinking the same.

“All right,” Fusco said. “There’s been a change in the goalie lineup. As of an hour ago, Jyri has been traded to Detroit. Matti will be starting goalie and Jordan has been called up to join us. All right, let’s get out there.” And that was all the time we got to grieve the departure of our teammate.

To grieve the loss of our most experienced member of HDF.

I mean, who was more experienced at being a daddy than the father of twin two-year-old boys?

The game was tough like we had expected. By the end of the third period, we were tied at 2-2. Which meant overtime.

Then this time tomorrow I’d get to see Holly—who was now thirty-eight weeks pregnant.

That’s right—for those of you doing the math, she was due in two weeks…give or take a day or two.

How was I feeling?

Excited—and nervous as hell. Despite all the daddy-to-be coaching I’d received from HDF during the past twenty weeks, I was still terrified I would fire-truck it up.

Hey, don’t laugh at my baby-approved swear word. I was now on a cussing restriction.

And forget the typical fine of twenty-five cents per swear word. Holly had decided I needed a stiffer penalty because a quarter was nothing compared to my annual income.

Now, each swear word garnered Noah a nice hefty ten-dollar fine toward his college fund.

So fire truck it was.

Overtime went well—as in we won. The Rock players rushed onto the ice to celebrate.

“Fucking great job,” I told Mark, who had scored the overtime goal. I gave him an enthusiastic one-armed hug.

He laughed. “So when Holly’s not around, you’re allowed to swear?”

“Damn straight.”

Did Becca know about the ten-dollar-a-cuss-word fine leveled on me? No, which was why Mark would never tattle-tale to Holly. The consequence was too great when it came to me “accidentally” mentioning it to his wife.

Back in the locker room, I was getting ready to strip off my hockey gear and head for the shower when the assistant coach nabbed me. “Media’s asking for you.”

“Of course they are,” I grumbled. “It’s not like they’re standing around, dripping with sweat.”

But maybe I could stand in front of them and shake my body like a wet dog after a swim in the ocean. Think that would impress them?

He slapped me on the back in a sympathetic gesture. “You only have to go out for a few minutes.”

At least no one would be asking about my impending fatherhood. Other than within the team, I hadn’t gone public with the news. As far as I was concerned, it wasn’t anyone’s business.

I returned to the dressing room, where the reporters were waiting. “Good game tonight,” one said to me. Then after I answered a question about Jyri’s trade, he said, “You’ll be a free agent in July. Any ideas on what you can expect?” In other words, did I think I would get traded before then.

That was the billion-dollar question.

A question I’d asked myself at least a thousand times. I got paid well, but I wasn’t a star player and would never be. I’d already been traded once before. And to be honest, as much as I loved the game, the constant uncertainty about my future in the league was tiring.

But what else would I do?

I guess when it came down to it—that was the real billion-dollar question.

I BS’d my way through the answer, reminding them it was the GM’s call and he would do what was best for the team. After a few more questions, the assistant coach signaled the interview was over.

I could have almost kissed him.

Once I’d finished showering and had changed into my suit for our flight back to San Francisco, I entered the secured room where the team had kept our cell phones.

How did people get ahold of us prior to game-time and during games? They had to contact the team and in turn, the news was passed on to us. This way the team could determine what was an emergency or what wasn’t. Like when Travis’s grandmother once phoned, wondering where he had put the jar of pickles last time he was at her house.

The woman loved her pickles.

Why was I telling you this? Because now you’ll see why when I checked my texts, I was surprised to see one from Trent—telling me Holly had gone into labor…several hours ago.

Shit.