“It’s really happening,” she says, squeezing my hand. I wrap my arm around Owen and her, wishing I would have taken this fucking suit off before I got on the bed, but at this point, it’s too late.
“What’s really happening?” Owen asks softly, his eyes shut and his face pressed against Piper's neck.
“Us, our dreams, everything.”
I pet down her hair, and she leans in against my hand. Fuck, my chest feels so god damn full that it might just crack wide open all over this room.
“When do you start?” I ask her.
“It starts in July.”
“So we’ll have a few weeks between winning the Cup to you starting work?”
“Oh my God. Congratulations on tonight's win. I made this all about myself.”
“Things can be about you, Piper. This is a big thing. I’m so proud of you.” She blushes, and as much as she might not want to admit it, the Alpha has a bit of a praise kink. Plus, I don’t think Piper had enough people telling her how proud she should be of her accomplishments throughout her life.
“Owen,” she says softly, pushing his blond hair from his face. He’s out cold. Her brows furrow as she looks up at me. “He’s been getting a lot more fatigued after games.” She feels his skin and presses gentle touches along his face. “I’m worried he’s pushing himself too far.”
My hand leaves her hair as I touch the Omega between us. “He has. Around the third period, he’s been losing gas. I’m not sure what else I can do. Smelling salts usually help give him a little bit more energy. But it’s almost like clockwork.”
Her eyebrows furrow even more, and she shakes her head. “It’s just a little odd that it’s hitting him now, and at the same time every game. We haven’t changed anything with his medication.”
“The games are closer together with playoffs, that’s all I can think.”
“Hmm,” she says, looking down at Owen and placing a kiss on his forehead before leaning over him and taking a kiss from me as well.
“Happiness looks good on you,malyshka.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” She grins, and I nod my head.
“Don’t think I won’t crawl over Owen and fuck you right next to him.”
She bites her lip. “Do it.”
I’ve never bluffed in my life as I untangle myself from Owen, who doesn’t stir the entire time I show Piper just how happy I can make her.
* * *
“We did it. We really fucking did it!” Owen yells at me on the ice, our hands clenched on each other's jerseys.
All of our teammates are losing their absolute minds while the Canes’ fans don’t waste a second leaving their stadium.
“We fucking did.” I don’t give a single fuck. His helmet is off, and I swoop in and give him a soft kiss. I’m worried he’ll be irritated when I pull back, but the eye roll and smirk are all I need to know.
“We’re going to the motherfucking Cup!” Eli yells, his arm wrapped around Mikael, who is smiling. It’s horrifying.
Owen seemed a lot more alert in the third period. I chalk it up to complete adrenaline as I wrap my arm around his shoulders, which turns into a complete dog pile of everyone on the team joining in.
After we’ve separated and shaken hands with the other team—well, everyone except Nilsen, who spits on his hand and offers it to his cousin, who refuses—we’re back in our suits and ready to fly back to Connecticut.
“What time is the west conference final?” Mikael asks, scrolling through his phone.
“Should be starting soon,” Eli replies. He also has his phone out, and I wonder if they have some sort of pack group text message.
“I’m hoping for the Predators,” Nilsen says, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair.
“Me too,” Owen says softly.
