Tears blur my vision. Happy tears.
Six months ago, they were ghosts of their former selves. Skilled but empty, mechanically good but missing their spark. Now they've come back to life—stronger, brighter than they ever were.
Now they're National Champions.
"They did it!" Mia's still jumping. "Oh my God, they actually did it!"
The camera zooms in on the celebration. Felix's honey-brown eyes crinkling with joy. Silas's rare, devastating smile. Liam's quiet contentment.
My chest tightens with love so fierce it hurts.
"Come on." Mia tugs my hand. "Let's get down there."
We navigate through the crowd. Everyone's celebrating, high-fiving strangers, hugging people they've never met.
Mia's wearing her Puckers jersey, number 5. I'm in mine too, custom made with all three of their numbers on the sleeve: 19, 44, 71.
Security recognizes me at the barrier. One guard unhooks the rope.
"Congratulations," he says with a grin. "Your pack played incredible tonight."
"They really did."
We reach the tunnel entrance. The team is skating victory laps, holding the championship trophy high. Flashbulbs everywhere. Reporters crowding the ice.
I lean against the boards, watching. Committing this to memory.
They deserve this. They fought so hard for it.
Liam spots me first. His eyes find mine across the ice and something in his expression softens.
He skates over, stopping at the boards.
"Hey, lovely."
"Hey yourself, Champion." My voice cracks on the last word.
He reaches over the boards, hand cupping my face. "Thanks again for coming all the way to Chicago."
"Of course I came. Wouldn't miss this for anything."
The kiss is gentle.
When he pulls back, his eyes are bright. "Thank you."
Felix appears next, crashing into Liam from the side. "Did you see that empty netter? Beauty, right?"
"That was real poetry," I confirm.
He leans over the boards, stealing his own kiss. Enthusiastic, his hand tangling in my hair.
"Missed you," he says against my mouth.
"I'm right here."
"Not close enough."
Then Silas arrives. His gray-blue eyes lock on mine.
