Power Pucking Play (Chicago Blades)

Extended Epilogue

"Mama, look! I scored!"

I turn just in time to see my three-year-old daughter, Giulia, slam a tiny plastic puck into an improvised goal made from two chairs and a banner. Her aim is terrifyingly accurate for a toddler.

"That's great, sweetie," I say, trying to infuse my voice with enthusiasm rather than dread. "But remember, we're at a fancy party. Maybe we can practice your slapshot later?"

Giulia pouts, her green eyes—a perfect match for her father's—sparkle. "But Daddy said I should always be ready to play."

Of course he did.

I scan the crowded ballroom, looking for my husband. When I spot him, chatting animatedly with a group of sponsors, I can't help but smile.

Five years of marriage, and Gio still makes my heart skip a beat.

He must sense my gaze because he looks up, flashing me that grin that's graced a thousand magazine covers. I roll my eyes, but I'm smiling as I mouth, "A little help here?"

Gio excuses himself and makes his way over to us, stopping to shake hands and take selfies along the way. By the time he reaches us, Giulia has managed to recruit two more kids into her impromptu hockey game.

"Having fun, princess?" Gio asks, scooping our daughter up into his arms.

Giulia nods, her brown curls bobbing. "I was showing everyone my goal shot! Mama said we have to stop, but I told her you said I should always be ready to play."

Gio has the grace to look sheepish as I raise an eyebrow at him. "Did I say that? I meant, uh, you should always be ready to play...when it's appropriate. Like at home, or at the rink. Not at fancy parties where Mama's book is being celebrated."

I shake my head, but I can't keep the smile off my face. "Nice save, De Luca."

He grins, leaning in to press a quick kiss to my cheek. "That's why they pay me the big bucks, Brookes."

Even after all these years, he still calls me Brookes sometimes. It never fails to make me feel like that young, scrappy reporter who fell for the bad boy of hockey.

"Speaking of big bucks," I say, nodding toward the stage where the charity auction items are displayed, "shouldn't you be drumming up bids for your signed jersey?"

Gio shrugs, bouncing Giulia on his hip. "Eh, it'll sell itself. Stanley Cup winning goal and all that. Besides, I'd rather be here with my girls."

My heart melts a little at that.

For all his bravado and charm, Gio's real superpower is these moments of sweet sincerity.

"Well, your girls need you to mingle a bit more," I say, taking Giulia from him. "Go. Be charming. Sell that jersey for an obscene amount of money. It's for the kids, after all."

He salutes playfully. "Yes, ma'am. Anything else?"

"Yeah. Stop telling our kid that it’s okay to play hockey at any and all events.”

Gio laughs, pressing a kiss to Giulia's forehead and then my lips before disappearing back into the crowd.

I watch him go, marveling at how naturally he moves through the social scene. It's a far cry from the guarded, prickly player I first met all those years ago.

"He's come a long way, hasn't he?"

I turn to see Sophie standing beside me, her son dozing against her shoulder. She's looking at Gio with a mixture of pride and amusement.

"Don't let it go to his head," I joke. "But yeah, he really has."

Sophie grins. "I'd say you both have. Remember when you used to write those scathing articles about him?"

"God, don't remind me. I was such a…"

"Mama!" Giulia interrupts, scandalized. "No bad words!"

Sophie and I burst out laughing. "You're right, sweetheart," I say, kissing her cheek. "Mama will be good."

As if on cue, Evan appears at Sophie's side, looking dapper in a suit that's a far cry from his usual goalie gear. "Ah, here's where the party's at," he says, his gruff exterior softening as he looks at his wife and baby son.

"Uncle Evan!" Giulia squeals, nearly launching herself out of my arms.

Evan catches her easily, a rare smile breaking across his face. "Hey there, squirt. Staying out of trouble?"

Giulia shakes her head solemnly. "No, I'm getting into all the trouble. Just like Daddy says."

I can't help but laugh at Evan's bewildered expression. "Ignore her," I say. "She's got her father's talent for mischief and her mother's gift for hyperbole."

"Scary combination," Evan mutters, but he's smiling as he sets Giulia down. "Speaking of scary, I hear you're giving a speech tonight, Lexi. Nervous?"

"Me? Nervous? Never."

"Nice try, Lex. But I saw you practicing in the lobby earlier," Sophie says with a wry smile.

I feel my cheeks heat up. "Traitor," I mutter, nudging her with my hip.

The truth is, I am nervous. This isn't just any speech.

It's the official launch of my book, Breaking the Ice: Women Changing the Face of Sports Journalism.

It's personal in a way my previous work never was, filled with not just my experiences, but those of countless other women who've fought to make their voices heard in a male-dominated industry.

"You've got this, Lex," my former intern says softly, squeezing my arm. "Your book is amazing. And hey, if you get nervous, just picture everyone in their underwear."

I snort, some of the tension easing from my shoulders. "Thanks, Soph. Although picturing this crowd in their underwear might be more distracting than helpful."

Before Sophie can respond, there's a commotion near the stage. I look over to see Gio, microphone in hand, grinning like he's just scored the winning goal.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announces, his voice carrying through the room. "If I could have your attention, please. It's time for the moment you've all been waiting for."

I groan, just as Gabi and Jake enter the room, waving. I try to paste on a smile. "Oh God, what's he doing?"

Sophie giggles. "Being Gio, apparently."

I peek through my fingers to see Gio gesturing toward the stage. "It is my great honor, and even greater pleasure, to introduce the woman of the hour. The love of my life, the mother of my child, and the biggest pain in my ass ever since I first stepped onto the ice. Ladies and gentlemen, Lexi Brookes De Luca!"

The room erupts in applause and laughter. I shake my head, unable to keep the smile off my face as I make my way to the stage.

Leave it to Gio to turn a formal book launch into a comedy routine.

As I climb the steps, my husband meets me halfway. In a dark suit the same color as his carefully-coiffed hair, he looks like a male model come to life. But it's the softness in his eyes as he takes my hand that makes my heart swell.

"Knock 'em dead, Brookes," he whispers, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek.

I take the microphone from him, taking a deep breath as I face the crowd.

There are familiar faces everywhere.

Family, teammates, rivals, colleagues, friends. And right in the front row, Gio stands with Giulia on his shoulders, both of them beaming up at me.

"Well," I begin, unable to keep the smile from my voice. "I was going to start with a joke, but I think my husband beat me to it."

The crowd laughs, and just like that, the nerves melt away. This is what I do.

This is who I am.

I launch into my speech, talking about the challenges and triumphs I've faced in my career.

I share stories from the book. Stories of women breaking barriers, challenging stereotypes, and changing the game.

Throughout it all, I keep coming back to one theme: the power of partnership.

"Five years ago," I say, my voice softening, "I thought I had to choose between love and my career. I thought being a serious journalist meant keeping everyone at arm's length. But I was wrong."

My eyes find Gio's in the crowd. He gives me a small nod, encouraging me to continue.

"I found a partner who challenges me, supports me, and loves me. Flaws and all. Who showed me that vulnerability isn't weakness, it's strength. That love doesn't hold you back, it propels you forward."

I see a few people dabbing at their eyes, and I have to swallow hard against the lump in my own throat.

"This book," I continue, holding up a copy, "is dedicated to all the women who've fought to make their voices heard. But it's also dedicated to the people who stand beside us, who lift us up and push us to be better. To the partners, friends, and allies who believe in us, even when we don't believe in ourselves."

As I wrap up my speech, the room erupts in applause. I make my way off the stage on shaky legs, only to be immediately enveloped in Gio's arms.

"That was amazing," he murmurs into my hair. "You're amazing."

I pull back just enough to look at him, seeing the pride and love shining in his eyes. "We're amazing," I correct him. "I couldn't have done any of this without you."

He grins, that cocky, charming grin that still makes my heart race. "Damn straight. We make a pretty good team, don't we, Brookes?"

Before I can respond, we're interrupted by a small but insistent tug on my dress. I look down to see Giulia, her green eyes wide.

"Mama, you were so good!" she exclaims. "Can I give a speech too?"

Gio and I exchange a look, both of us fighting back laughter. "Maybe when you're a bit older, princess," Gio says, scooping her up. "For now, how about we go get some cake?"

As we make our way through the crowd, accepting congratulations and well-wishes, half of me is still marveling at how far we've come.

From warring rivals to lovers. From newlyweds to parents. From individuals to a team.

It hasn't always been easy. We've had our share of fights, misunderstandings, and moments of doubt. But through it all, we've had each other's backs.

We've pushed each other to be better. To dream bigger. To love harder.

And as I watch Gio charm the crowd with Giulia perched on his hip, as I feel the weight of my book in my hands and the warmth of my friends' support around me, I know that this is what winning really feels like.