My fingers gripped the seat so hard my knuckles were white. The family box may have had more room than general admission, but it didn’t shield from the wild energy that pulsed through the massive crowd.

Thousands of people screamed and cheered and booed at different intervals, all coinciding with what happened on the ice.

Smack!

I flinched from the impact of the opposing player against the boards.

Thump!

I cringed as another player hit the boards and went down.

Crack!

I jolted from the power behind the stick as Connor made a shot.

And I gasped as the goalie blocked his shot and another player skated toward Conner as he captured the rebounded puck. The intent was clear, he was supposed to lay Connor out. I wanted to shout his name, tell him to turn around, tell him to pay attention.

I squinted my eyes, readying my body like I was the one about to get smashed, when out of nowhere, like a tidal wave on ice, Hudson caught a pass, placing himself between Connor and the opponent, and became a brick wall.

A giant brick wall that the other skater smashed into, the force from the impact so intense that his butt hit the ice in a blink.

Hudson passed back to Connor, who gave a single, quick nod, and headed back toward the goal. They didn’t even take one second before they were both going their separate ways on the ice. Both with different goals—all of them, actually—and yet they worked together so smoothly it was like a dance.

A brutal, intricate, and somewhat wild dance.

Elliott screamed, fist-bumping the air. “Did you see that? Hudson makes the Sharks untouchable!”

I loosened my grip on the seat, smiling at Elliott’s back as she jumped up and down. She’d barely sat the entire game. Her and Hannah and Lettie formed a tiny line of support that was enough to melt my heart. Elliott would have made such a great big sister if I’d ever given her the chance.

Minutes passed that felt like hours and a blink at the same time.

My muscles coiled and twisted with each hit, each near-fight as emotions escalated.

Shredded ice and thwacking bodies and goals and shots and screams.

A wild, brutal game.

That’s what I’d always seen hockey as.

Why I’d avoided it all this time.

But with each hit Hudson delivered, I realized something.

Like pulling back a veil, I understood something I never had before.

Hudson may be knocking grown men down, may have had the force of a Mack truck behind him when he did it, but he was preventing hits each time.

Protecting his teammates.

The giant man who could be so gentle when teasing kisses down the seam of my neck was a force to be reckoned with on this team. For his team, he became what they needed most. Someone strong enough to take the hits they couldn’t, and dish them out in return.

A smile shaped my lips as I kept my eyes trained on him. On the way his brute strength didn’t hinder him in the least when chasing down threats. The way he pushed himself, pushed his body, his mind, all for the sake of his team.

Protection.

God, the guys had always called him a Bruiser, and I’d equated that to someone who did nothing but fight the whole game.

But it was so much more than that.

Hudson was so much more than that.

And it had taken watching him on the ice, in action, to realize just how damn…beautiful he was at it.

Something warm radiated from the center of my chest as I watched him prevent another hit. A primal, deeply rooted heat that pulsed in my blood and slaked my soul.

All my life I had protected Elliott, would always have a piece of me that was scared and watching. I’d done everything in my power to prevent the darkness of our past from touching her. And I would always do that—protect her.

Hudson and I were the same, in so many more ways than I’d thought.

The man was capable of bringing himself to Elliott’s level, to tease and rile and challenge her, as well as be the protector of the Seattle Sharks. He could be calm and gentle when coaching Elliott and yet he could be fierce and passionate when coaxing pleasure from my body. He had the ability to fall silent and wait and listen when I needed to talk but also could unleash his quiet humor in order to make me laugh.

Everything.

Hudson Porter was everything.

And I was absolutely in love with him.

There was no shock, no bolt of realization as my mind finally caught up with my body and soul.

I loved Hudson.

Loved him like I’d never loved a man in my life.

Loved him with all the earned trust and passion and bliss I’d secretly dreamed about but never allowed myself to hope for.

For a decade, I’d prided myself on not needing anyone to help me and Elliott besides the mercy and miracle of Mr. Barnes—the man who’d cut me a break, gave me a job and put me through school. I suppose he could be credited with introducing me to Hudson since he was Connor’s lawyer and had called me to help with Hannah’s case. Life…was so funny that way. But counting on anyone else had always set me up for failure, and in the end, I’d known no one was as trustworthy as myself when it came to taking care of Elliott.

But this, with Hudson?

It was real and tangible, and there was this glowing, searing knowledge inside me that knew without a doubt I could count on him. I could depend on him without losing myself. I could allow him to help me without thinking I’d failed. And I could do the same for him. Be there for him in ways no other woman could. I saw him—more than the name on his jersey, more than the intimidating size and scars on his body.

A true partner.

An equal.

I love him.

“What?” Elliott touched my shoulder. “Mom, what?”

“Hmm?” I asked, blinking back from cloud nine.

“You’re smiling like the joker.” She glared at me. “And we missed another shot. That’s not cool.”

I cleared my throat and tried to contain my smile. “Sorry,” I said. “I was thinking about something else.”

“Something else?” she balked, waving her hand toward the ice. “How could you think of something else when they’re on the ice?” She looked at me like I’d lost my mind and returned focus to the game.

I watched more intently, seeing clearer than I ever had before.

Twenty minutes later, I bent to Elliott’s ear to be heard over the roaring crowd.

“I need to use the restroom,” I said. “Before the crowds.”

“Oh, Mom!” she groaned. “Can’t I stay with Hannah and Lettie?”

I glanced toward Ivy and Bailey who were cheering the Sharks’ win as loud and as proud as everyone else.

“What’s up?” Ivy asked, leaning toward my questioning glance.

“Is it okay if you watch Elliott for a few minutes?” I asked, practically in her ear. “I need to hit the bathroom.”

“Oh, of course!” She smiled and nodded. “We usually stay until way after the game anyway to wait for Connor to get done with locker room coach talk and showers. We hang in my sister’s office. It’s right by the locker room. Know it?”

I nodded, remembering Hudson showing us before the game because he’d wanted us to meet him in that hallway.

Ivy swung out her arm for Hannah and Elliott, Bailey clasping Lettie’s hand, too, as they bounded up the stairs toward the exit to the hallways. I gave Elliott a be good, I’ll be right there look that she acknowledged but was too excited to be with her friends.

That warmth already growing inside me tripled.

Elliott was more than at home here, and for the first time in such a long time, I started to feel like I belonged, too.

Safe.

This is what it’s like to feel safe. Home.

I spared another glance at Hudson on the ice, who had skated over to the glass, and was waving at Elliott. My heart swelled.

Luckily, I beat the growing crowd, and I was in and out of the restroom in no time. As I skimmed the edge of the tide of departing fans, heading toward the office Ivy had indicated, butterflies flapped in my stomach. Some of their wings dusted with ice.

Because what did I do now?

Sure, I may have realized I’d fallen head over heels for the man, but that didn’t mean he reciprocated. He made jokes about getting married and, yes, he was the one who’d asked to be exclusive…for me to be his and him to be mine…but love? It was all happening so fast, and the last thing I wanted to do was scare—

“Shea.”

I stopped dead.

That voice.

I would hear it over every ounce of chatter echoing off the walls.

I would hear it in a dead sleep or a roaring thunderstorm.

I’d just foolishly hoped I’d never hear it again.

Slowly, almost like I might be in a nightmare, I turned toward the sound.

And there he was.

Todd Stuart.

The biological father of my child.

The sole reason I loathed violence.

The reason I went out of my way to help countless women like Melissa.

I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to hold on to the warmth that had dominated my blood before.

He sauntered over to me, his chin jutting out slightly. He’d filled out since the last time I’d seen him—years ago. No longer the drugged-out rail-thin jerk. No, he had muscles now, but nothing compared to what I’d become accustomed to.

Nothing like my Shark.

“Shea,” he said again when he reached me.

I took a step back, wanting to keep an arm’s length between us—enough distance to dodge a punch or an attempt to grab me.

Old habits.

“What are you doing here?”

“Haven’t seen you in nearly ten years,” he said, shaking his head, his eyes trailing the length of my body. “The mother of my child. And that is what you say to me?”

I narrowed my gaze, drawing on that decade of fear that I’d harbored. I’d pictured this meeting a thousand times in my waking nightmares and in each one, I knew I would not be weak.

Later, later I could shake and cry and crumple.

Not now. Never in front of him.

“What the hell are you doing here, Todd?” I kept my voice as sharp as Hudson’s skates, and suddenly I was so damn thankful Elliott had begged to stay with Hannah and Lettie. Good gracious, what if I had brought her with me? Then she’d be subjected to…whatever it is he wanted.

“I want to see my daughter.”

Cold lashed through me like I’d been shot with a frozen bullet.

No.

Everything screamed a solid no.

Then fear prickled on the edges of my internal declaration. “You didn’t come to watch the Sharks, did you?” I asked. This wasn’t a chance meeting. He came here to seek me out, which meant he knew I’d be here, or at least guessed.

“Where is my daughter?” he asked, folding his hands behind his back, his eyes scanning the thinning crowd around us as fans exited the building.

“Can’t even remember her name, can you?” I snapped, adrenaline flooding my system. I wanted to run. Wanted to turn and race to the office where Ivy had Elliott, wanted her in my arms and as far away from him as I could get her.

“Can’t you cut me some slack?” he sucked his teeth. “Maybe I’ve changed.”

I shook my head. “You haven’t changed,” I said. “If you’d changed you wouldn’t have tracked me down like some lost belonging. You would’ve called my work first, then begged a professional meeting of two people who used to know each other. You wouldn’t use a shock tactic, showing up like this.” Plus, I could see it in those eyes—those damn eyes that were the same as my daughter’s in color. Exactly the same.

Except for the intent behind them.

Elliott’s were determined and bright and full of love and hope.

Todd’s were cold and listless and full of malice.

A tremor shook my body, the adrenaline abandoning the flight instinct and moving right on to fight.

My fingers itched to hit and scratch and hurt.

Hurt him for all he’d done to me.

I took a steadying breath, reminding myself of who I was.

I hated violence.

I hated abuse.

And I would not stoop to his level unless backed into a corner.

“You need to leave,” I said.

He arched a brow. “What, you own this building, now, Shea? I knew you had come into some money, but I didn’t realize you could buy arenas now.”

Part taunt and part truth.

He thought I had money?

How?

I couldn’t even afford the hockey fees for Elliott.

“I don’t have any—” I clenched my jaw. “Leave. Never seek us out again or I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” he stepped closer, and it took all the strength I possessed not to retreat. Not to back down from him. “You’ll call the cops?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice with him so close.

He shrugged. “Spent a lot of time avoiding cops the last ten years,” he said. “Don’t scare me. I’ve been a good boy, anyway. Kept my nose clean. And besides, I’m her father. I have rights.”

If I’d been weaker, I may have crumbled to the floor.

My worst nightmare.

Manifested before me.

No.

He’d never gain legal rights. It was a matter of time before he was caught doing something heinous again.

“Or,” he said, tilting his head, surveying the now empty hallway. “Would you send your Shark after me?”

Ice barreled down my spine.

How did he know about Hudson?

Why did he care?

“Why are you here?” I asked again. “Really?”

“I want to see my daughter.”

“She’s never been your daughter.”

Red flashed behind his eyes, followed by that cold fury I knew meant I was about to get slapped or worse.

I took a step back, my eyes trained on his hands.

They shook and twitched, but he kept them locked down.

“It was always you,” he said, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “You were the reason I was so angry all the time,” he continued. “That mouth of yours,” he said. “Spouting such hateful shit.” He blew out a breath. “At least it was good for some things.”

I recoiled, bile crawling up my throat.

I’d been young and stupid, and I’d had no idea what I was doing.

Hence, pregnant at sixteen.

But even after all the darkness, all the fear, I wouldn’t change a thing—except maybe getting out sooner.

Because I had Elliott and she was my world. My heart.

“Leave.”

He sighed. “I will see my daughter,” he said. “Whether you like it or not.” He slowly moved past me, heading toward the exit.

Fear clawed at my insides, insatiable and raw.

“Why?” I called after him, and he stopped, turned back to me.

“She’s mine,” he said. “I have a right to see her.”

“You don’t though,” I said. “You gave up parental rights the day you day you beat me in front of her, an infant.” Not entirely true. Not since I ran and didn’t press charges. But I was praying he didn’t know the system like I did.

His brow furrowed, that rage flashing again. “It’ll take more than some law to keep her from me.”

“You don’t want her,” I said, wholly shaking now. “You’ve never wanted her. Never wanted anything to do with us. Just…leave us alone.” I tried to gather strength into the words, but I was in full panic mode.

“You ought to think about easy streets and hard ones.”

Nightmare.

This was the stuff of my nightmares.

Where memories and the present meshed together to create one hellish outcome.

“Easy street or hard street?” he’d ask, his form towering over my trembling body curled on the floor.

“Easy,” I’d cry.

A kick to the stomach, hard and sharp.

Another for good measure.

“That’s easy,” he said. “Don’t ever take the hard street.”

Ten years of fear and anger twisted and tangled and I drew myself up to be as tall as my short frame would allow.

“You need to ask yourself if bothering me is worth it,” I said, a growl in my tone. “Because I swear to God if you come near me again, or even try to come near my daughter, I’ll make you suffer in ways that will make prison look like a fucking resort vacation.”

He had the good sense to flinch, to stand there blinking at me like he had no idea who I was.

And he didn’t.

I was no longer that cowering, terrified and broken girl.

I would not bow to his will, would not bend to his raised hand.

And there was nothing I wouldn’t do for Elliott.

He glanced behind my shoulder, then glared at me before turning around and hurrying out the double exit doors.

My fingers trembled as I uncurled them from the fists I’d had them in.

“Hey,” Hudson’s voice reached out and soothed the jagged edges of my heart, and I took steadying breaths before I turned around to face him.

Freshly showered, in athletic gear, he looked good enough to eat. But all I really wanted him to do was hold me. He motioned his head toward the doors.

“What was that about?” he asked.

I stepped toward him, slipping my arms around his middle, laying my head on his chest.

He dropped his gear bag, instantly enveloping me.

“Shea,” he said. “Shea you’re shaking.” He held me tighter.

“I’m fine,” I promised.

“Who was that?” he growled.

I tipped my head up, locking with his blue eyes, letting the goodness and the strength in them chase away the panic in mine. “No one,” I said honestly. “And nothing I can’t handle.”