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You sighed as the puck flew into the back of the empty net. There was no way for the Stars to bring this game back and the room grew even quieter as the various wives and girlfriends internally planned how to comfort their partners. Jamie would take this loss the worst though, he always did. As captain, he felt like each loss meant he was failing his team and chances of making playoffs seemed even more distant and far-fetched.
As the final horn sounded out you all began packing up your bags and heading down to wait outside the locker room. You rested a hand on your ever-growing stomach and watched as dejected players trailed out of the room one by one, the tap of their shoes on the concrete echoing in the silence. Finally Tyler walked out and smiled slightly when he saw you. "Hey, (y/n), how's my godchild doing?"
"Good," you grinned back before frowning. "Is Jamie still in there?"
"Yeah. He's pretty upset. I think you should just go in there because I don't think he'll be coming out any time soon," he patted your shoulder and started to walk away.
"You gonna be okay, Ty?" you called after him.
"Yeah. I'm just going to drink it off," he murmured back and you chuckled slightly before heading towards the door of the locker room.
Knocking tentatively, you opened the door and popped your head inside. "Hey Jam, it's me," you said gently and heard his deep sigh. He was sitting down, still in half his gear, and he looked completely exhausted. "It's not your fault," you whispered as you came to stand in front of him.
"Don't say that, (y/n). We both know I can play better," Jamie muttered but looked up at you.
"Maybe," you held his hands in yours, "but I know that you play your heart out every game so as long as you tried your hardest tonight, it's not your fault."
"I love you so much."
"I love you so much too," you giggled and ran a hand through his wet hair before gasping suddenly.
"What's wrong?" Jamie asked nervously. You smiled at him in response and took his hands again and placed them on your bump. "I think our little bubs has started kicking."
"What? Real-" he cut himself off with a large gasp of his own as he felt the movement against his hands before he moved them to your back and pulled you closer, pressing his head to your belly. "I'm - wow - this is amazing!" he laughed, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Hey, Peanut," he pressed his lips to your bump, "I love you so so so so much. I promise to look after you forever and to be the best dad ever. I can't wait to meet you." He then stood up and kissed your lips softly. "Thank you so much, babe, you've made me the happiest man alive. Hell, I don't care if we never make playoffs as long as I have you and our baby."
"That's sweet and all, Jam, but don't you really want to do the classic baby in the Stanley Cup thing?" you joked, pecking his lips again.
"No," he said quietly but your raised eyebrows told him that you see through the lie. "Fine yeah. Like the Cup is so big and the baby is so tiny and it's so cool!" he gushed suddenly, tearing up again at the thought of it.
"You're such a dork," you smiled, feeling the baby kick again.
"But I'm your dork, right?"
"Yeah, you are."
