Page 103 of Body Check

My smile is tinged with sadness. “I’m not your captain anymore.”

He shakes his head. “You’ll always be our captain. Except when you’re our coach.” MacGregor gives a cheeky grin, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Unless you’d like us to call you Coach Captain.”

“Oh, fuck off,” I groan. “I wanted to say something nice to you, but if you’re going to be a dick…”

“Aww, you like me,” he teases. “Tell me.”

Blowing out a breath, I meet his eyes. “I think you should be the next captain of the Boston Grizzlies.”

MacGregor blinks a few times. “What the fuck?”

His shout draws attention from the other partygoers, and I shake my head to hide my smile.

“I’m recommending you to Coach Turner for the open captain position.”

“Me? You’re nuts.”

“Maybe so. I still think it should be you.”

He gapes at me, his mouth hanging open.

“You’ve led this team for the last few months. When I went out, you took over seamlessly, leading the boys when I couldn’t.”

MacGregor frowns. “But I couldn’t win you a Cup.”

“And that’s okay. We did our best. It wasn’t our fault that Washington was simply better.”

Although since they went on to the Stanley Cup Finals, I guess it doesn’t hurt as much as if they’d lost in the Conference Finals.

“We can’t win every year,” I continue. “It just means we’ll work harder next season. And I think you should be the one to lead the team.”

He cocks his head, clearly thinking it over.

“We don’t need an answer yet. Enjoy your offseason, consider all your options.” I clap his shoulder. “But you should say yes. It’s a lot of work, but it’s so fucking rewarding.”

MacGregor swallows. “I know I’m not the most social guy...”

“Yeah, so maybe you’ll have to go out a little bit more,” I concede. Considering he never goes out, anything more would be an improvement. “But being captain is more than being out at the bar with the guys. It’s about the team as a whole gelling, and being able to lead when we’re down three nothing with two minutes left. Or when we’re on a losing streak and nobody can get their heads out of their asses. It’s the bad as much as it’s the good. I don’t want to scare you off. It’s a lot of fucking work. But going out there with the C on your chest… There’s nothing like it.”

“I’ll think about it,” MacGregor promises. He clears his throat, nodding behind me. “Incoming.”

I turn to find Amelia approaching, Ainsley on her hip. Tyler is across the room, talking to Andrews and Joaquin.

“Hey, you,” I say as she draws near. I reach for the baby’s chubby fist, and she wraps her tiny fingers around my pinky. My heart melts. “Having fun?”

“Oh, she’s having a blast,” Amelia reports. Ainsley is ten and a half months old, and already the belle of the ball. She was passed around the party all day, and even Sinclair and Jenkins showed interest in the baby.

Between her and Leo, Larsson’s son, it seems like everyone has baby fever. Easton’s wife Mel is pregnant again, and Henry’s wife Audrey is talking to Vanessa and Jacky about strollers.

Not me. Amelia and I are happily child-free, and I had the vasectomy to prove it.

There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s the one for me, and that we’re in this for the long haul. We’re in a good place. Sure, there’s a lot of change on the horizon for us. Moving in together was a big step. Switching from player to coach is sure to be emotional.

But with her by my side, I can do anything. She makes me more confident in myself and my decision. She believes in me, so how can I not?

Amelia hands me the baby, and I cuddle Ainsley in my arms. She squirms closer, burying her face in my neck, and I rove my hand over her small back. The baby loves me, and not just because I babysit her every other Thursday afternoon while Tyler is at work.

In a few weeks, we’re going to the lake house to meet my family. My brother and sisters will be there with my nieces and nephews. It’ll be a very loud week. Rewarding, too, though.

I told them bits and pieces about Amelia. We did a few video chats. But it’s not the same as meeting them in person. We invited Tyler to join us, but since Brandon has a stretch of home games, he wants to be home with his husband. I don’t blame him. Maybe next year, he’ll join us if our trip lines up with an away series.

We see them regularly, and not just through our windows. Most Sunday mornings, Tyler has us over for brunch, and although we’ve invited him over multiple times, he insists on hosting Friday night dinners at his place, too. We go to nearly all of Brandon’s games, now that hockey season is over, and it’ll be a jam-packed summer of baseball.

It’s funny. It’s not the life I imagined for myself. It’s certainly not the life I had a year ago. But it’s one I wouldn’t change for the world.

Amelia leans close, hugging me and her niece at the same time.

“I love you,” she whispers, her lips brushing mine.

“I love you, more.”