Page 115 of Trade It All

The second she disappears, all the anger drains enough for me to turn.

I spin back toward Maddie instantly, hands already reaching for her shoulders. “Baby, are you—”

I stop. Because my wife— my ridiculous wife—is smiling. Not upset. Not shaken. Smiling like she just watched her favorite movie scene play out in real life. I blink. She bites her lip.

Then steps into me. “I love when you get protective husband.”

I stare at her for one beat. Then bark out a laugh so loud Addy snorts beside us.

Yeah. Definitely marrying her was the right call.

Epilogue

Dean

Ihavestoodinthis arena thousands of times. Behind the bench. In the tunnel. At center ice after wins. In the empty quiet after losses when everyone else had long gone home and I was still trying to figure out what I could have done differently.

This building gave me some of the best years of my life. It gave me purpose. It gave me a team. Hell—it gave me my wife.

But today, standing in the middle of it with the lights still only half on and the fresh cut of ice untouched beneath my skates, it feels different.

Like I’m not here to hold onto the past. I’m here to start something new. Maddie asked if I wanted her to just meet me later when the kids arrived.

I looked at her like she was insane. There was no version of this morning that started without her.

So I made her come early. Like always. We started this not long after Vegas. Early mornings before the players got in.

Just us. An empty rink. Quiet. Skating side by side before the chaos of life started.

At first it was because we needed time that was only ours after finally going public and the world losing its collective mind over Coach Dean Kincade marrying the Mustangs media girl in secret.

Then it just became…us. Our reset. Our breath. Our place.

Now I’m kneeling in front of the bench lacing her skates while she sits above me sipping coffee like she hasn’t watched me do this a hundred times.

“You know,” she says, “normal husbands buy flowers.”

I tug the lace tighter and look up at her. “Normal wives don’t make their husbands freeze at six in the morning.”

She grins. “Yet here we are.”

Yeah. Here we are. I stand, take her coffee, set it on the ledge, and offer her both hands.

She slips hers into mine and lets me pull her to her feet. Even after all these years, that wedding band flashing under the arena lights still catches me in the chest every damn time.

Mine. I lead her onto the ice. Her laugh echoes softly when the blades catch. And for a little while we just skate. Easy. Unhurried. A lap around the boards. Another across center. Sometimesbrushing shoulders. Sometimes holding hands like two teenagers with the entire rink to themselves.

She glides backward in front of me and smiles. “You nervous?”

I huff. “No.”

She raises a brow. “This is kind of a big step.”

It is. A massive one. Stepping away from coaching the pros. Taking over the Mustang youth development program. Building something from the ground up for the next generation. Some people thought I was crazy walking away from the main bench. Some days maybe I thought so too.

But then I looked at my life. At my wife. At the little boy currently at home vibrating with excitement because his dad is coaching his team for the first time.

And suddenly it didn’t feel like stepping down. It felt like stepping exactly where I’m supposed to be. I reach out and catch Maddie by the waist, pulling her to me on the ice.