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Dean didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell at holding back the tears after that. It was the first time she’d ever said that to him, and it was truly the greatest gift he’d ever received.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” His voice was husky and rough. Their embrace lasted long enough for him to blink away the tears and clear his throat.

They parted, both turning when they heard a sniffle from the other end of the couch. Dean and McKenna laughed when they caught sight of Tank wiping his eyes.

“Got something in them,” his right winger lied, when he realized they were looking at him.

“Of course, you did, tough guy,” McKenna teased, dropping down next to Tank, who draped his arm over her shoulders, kissing the top of her head.

The weight on Dean’s chest hadn’t disappeared completely, but it felt lighter. Because for the first time, he was letting himself consider something he’d been too afraid to pursue.

A second chance.

Not just with Vivian but with himself too. He’d spent so long thinking of family as something he was incapable having.

Vivian had looked at him and somehow seen something worthy. What if he could become the man she deserved? A father and husband, someone who stayed, who shared the load.

Dean drew in a breath, then lifted his beer bottle. “To new beginnings.”

To theirs and just maybe…his own.

It was the night before Thanksgiving, and the arena was packed with hometown fans, not only ready to cheer on the Stingrays but to kick off the long holiday weekend.

It had been four nights since his conversation with McKenna. Unfortunately, the team had left for yet another road trip the following morning, and he hadn’t returned until yesterday afternoon. Ordinarily, he didn’t mind traveling because after so many years on the road, he was as at home in a hotel as he was his own place.

But this last trip had been brutal, since it had given him four fucking nights to think about not only the things McKenna had said but the shit he’d said, as well…to Vivian at the pub. He’d hurt her, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out how to make that right.

Obviously, he owed her an apology, but he wanted more than her forgiveness. He wanted a second chance, more dates, a future.

Everything.

He wanted everything with Vivian Kelly, and right now, all of that hinged on him saying the right words. Whatever they were.

Dean stood behind the bench, barking instructions over the roar of the crowd as the Stingrays fought through the third period—something that had become their white whale lately. It didn’t matter what kind of lead they had going into the last period; they always managed to fuck it up in the final twenty minutes.

It also didn’t look like they were going to break the pattern tonight as the Caps scored again, cutting the Rays’ lead down to just one goal. He glanced at the time remaining on the scoreboard. It was going to be a long eleven minutes.

So far, he’d managed to keep his attention on the ice, his mind focused on line changes and defensive coverage. Mostly.

He looked up at the family box and caught sight of Vivian and Pip sitting in the very front row. Both of them were wearing Stingrays jerseys, watching the game with rapt attention. Pip was leaning forward, completely invested, while Vivian and Belle exchanged the same worried looks he could see on every Rays players’ face right now as the referee slapped Rook with a two-minute penalty for high-sticking.

A fucking power play was the last thing they needed.

He muttered a curse, then leaned forward, giving his second line instructions. For the entire one hundred and twenty seconds, Dean was wholly focused on the game. He breathed a sigh of relief when Rook was set free from the penalty box and they had five guys skating on the ice.

With that near-disaster averted, he glanced at the box again. This time, Vivian wasn’t watching the game. She was looking at him.

He hated that she averted her eyes almost immediately, unwilling to hold his gaze. Sighing, he forced himself to concentrate on the game—especially after he caught sight of Victor looking at him and scowling.

Victor knew exactly who Dean was staring at.

The arena erupted as Rook, trying to make amends for his penalty, scored, putting them back ahead by two. Then the rest of the game passed quickly, as Dean limited himself to stealing only a half dozen more peeks at Vivian.

When the last buzzer sounded, the applause and cheers were nearly deafening because the Stingrays had finally ended a miserable four-game losing streak.

Regardless, Dean barely registered the celebration in the locker room. He finished his postgame obligations, shook hands, answered a few questions for the press, then headed toward his office, needing some peace and quiet.

“Shit,” he muttered, when he saw Victor leaning against the wall, waiting for him.