Stand and Defend (Lakes Hockey Series Book 4)

Valentine’s Day is next week, and I want to do something special for Jordan. Unfortunately, everything I come up with feels so . . . cliche. She’s not into gifting “things.” It’s not like I can whisk her off to a romantic getaway. With playoffs in a couple months, I’m about to be more involved than ever to ensure we make it. Which means I’ll have less time with her, so whatever I do has to be good. Lucky for me, I know someone who’s an expert at this stuff.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

In the locker room, the guys are busy talking about their plans for Superbowl Sunday.

“How come my damn tape is always missing?” I grouse.

“Here.” Barrett tosses me one of his rolls.

I sit next to him and begin wrapping my stick. Now’s as good a time as any.

“Hey . . . how’s the family?”

“Great. Raleigh’s morning sickness is finally easing up. Arthur’s loving kindergarten.”

“Good, good . . . Say, wondering if you can help me with something.”

He stops lacing his skates and cocks an eyebrow at me. “Depends on what it is . . .”

“I, uh, I need help coming up with a gift for Jordan . . . for Valentine’s Day.”

In my peripheral, he leans back and crosses his arms. I don’t have to look over to know he’s got a smug smile on his face.

“Look, you’re always doing romantic shit for Raleigh. I want to do something for Jordan. Don’t be a dick about this.”

Silence. I look over, sure enough, smug as hell.

The corner of my mouth tips up. “Okay, asshole. Forget it.”

“Oh, come on, you gotta let me enjoy this . . .”

I give him three full seconds to revel in the moment. “There. You done?”

He goes back to his skates. “Raleigh said Jordan’s never had a normal Christmas before.”

“Okay.” I’m aware, but not sure where he’s going with this.

“The girls were talking about it after Jordan got back from Monaco. Ral cried for a good half hour that night because Jordan never got to pick and cut down a Christmas tree.” He chuckles.

Why? “The fuck was she crying for?”

“She’s pregnant, man.” He shrugs. “She’s all up in her feelings. An ASPCA commercial came on the other day—shit, I thought I was going to have to take her to the hospital. You wouldn’t believe how many fucking dogs we’re sponsoring now.”

My lip curls and I shake my head. “Jesus . . . okay, but focus, I need help with a gift.”

“Give her a normal Christmas. Let her pick out a tree, make cookies, et cetera.”

“It’s February.”

“That’s why it’s romantic, dumbass.”

I suppose that could work. I scrape a puck over the fresh tape on my stick, thinking of all the things my family does for Christmas.

“Trust me,” he adds.

“Alright . . . but if it doesn’t go over well, I’m sending your wife a PETA brochure. Sure would be a shame to miss out on all that good Kalua pork next time you’re in Hawaii.”

He snatches the puck out of my hands and jabs a finger at me. “Don’t even joke about that shit.”

I chuckle and flip my stick to tape the handle. “Wait, where the hell am I supposed to cut down a Christmas tree? Are tree farms even open?”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “Who said you had to go to a tree farm?”

We stare at each other for a while until I know what he’s getting at.

Grinning, I ponder aloud. “Didn’t Sully say something about his new lake lot having nice trees?”