As he hands it to me and I circle the ice, I soak in the moment. Being injured last season seemed like one of the worst things that could have happened to me. But in retrospect, maybe it was the best. Maybe everything would be different now if Ihadn’t missed last season. Maybe tonight’s victory wouldn’t feel quite so sweet.
After I pass the Cup to Walsh, my gaze flicks up to the luxury suite I know Morgan’s watching the game from, but it appears to be completely empty. So my eyes search along the glass, hoping this means the families are already in the tunnel to be let onto the ice, and sure enough, I catch sight of Jules and Eva, but not Morgan.
I want nothing more than to share this moment with her now that I’ve had time to bask in this win with my teammates. Next to me, McCabe throws an arm over my shoulders. “Don’t worry, she’s probably just a few people back in that line.”
“Why would I be worried?”
“You get this look when she’s not around...”
I let myself stop searching for Morgan long enough to glance at him. “Oh yeah, what kind of look?”
“I don’t know,” he says with a shrug. “There’s a tightness in your face, almost like you’re in pain.”
Funny, that’s how it feels too. Her absence is a physical ache that only goes away when we’re together. I assume it won’t always be like this. That gradually we’ll settle into being an “old married couple” and every moment together won’t feel quite so precious. I kind of hope that’s not the case, because I know very well that nothing’s forever and I never want to stop valuing each moment I get with her.
I respond with something that sounds likeHmpf, and McCabe huffs a laugh.
“You ready?” I ask him.
He clears his throat, no longer laughing, and glances at the carpets laid out near the bench where AJ stands in a pale blue suit and heels, next to Frank and Tucker Hartmann, the entire Rebels coaching staff, the equipment managers, and our team doctor and trainers.
“More than ready,” he says. We wait for our teammates to finish their turns with the Cup, and then the boards are being opened to let our families onto the ice.
“Give me a minute to get back with Morgan,” I say to McCabe as I skate away.
“No promises,” he calls after me.
The families are walking out onto the ice, and it takes me a minute to find her. But once I zero in on her strawberry blonde hair, I skate around a few people, then scoop her up into my arms before turning back toward the center of the rink. She laughs as she tightens her arms around my neck while we speed across the ice.
“Congratulations.” Her voice soft as she plants a kiss on my cheek.
“Thanks. Couldn’t have done it without you,” I say as I navigate my way around other players.
“Yes, you could have.”
“Wouldn’t have wanted to, though.” I glance at her quickly, hoping she can see the sincerity in my eyes before I have to focus back on the ice so we don’t run into anyone.
She squeezes my neck in a quick hug. “Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see.” I come to a quick stop at center ice, right near the carpets that were rolled out from the bench, just as McCabe sinks down on one knee. AJ’s hands fly to her mouth and it feels like the entire arena takes one collective gasp.
“You knew?” Morgan asks as I set her on the ice to stand next to me. With me in skates and her in sneakers, she only comes up to my armpit, but she snakes her arm around my waist, squeezing me to her side even though I must smell terrible.
I squeeze her back, knowing she appreciates being here to see two of our closest friends get engaged. There’s a lot we can communicate these days even without words.
AJ sinks onto her knees facing McCabe, nodding as tears fall down her face. It’s too loud for Morgan and me to hear what they’re saying to each other, but we watch as McCabe unties a ring from his lace where he’s tucked it into his skate and slips it onto her finger. The fans and our teammates erupt in cheers, and then I turn toward Morgan.
“I’ve got something for you, too.”
Her eyes widen as she looks up at me. “Don’t you dare.”
My chest shakes with a laugh. “Not only do I know you well enough to know you’d hate a public proposal, but I had no desire to followthat,” I say, reaching my hand up under my jersey. Her brows knit together as she watches my fingers fumble behind the fabric, and then I’m pulling out a gold charm bracelet that I’d hooked onto my shoulder pads for the game.
There’s only one charm on there...for now. I secure it around her wrist and she lifts it to get a closer look.
“An anchor?”
“Becauseyou’remy anchor.”
