Cole snapped a shot that hit the top corner so hard the net rippled like it was trying to hang on for dear life.
The arena detonated.
“ARMSTRONG SCORES!”
Ignatius made a pleased sound low in his throat. “Good.”
Taranis leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Again. He wants another one.”
And he got another one, slipping past players like they were traffic cones. He faked a pass, pulled the puck in, and scored with an ease that made even the opposing bench laugh and shake their heads.
Cole didn’t celebrate much. But each time, he glanced toward us. Toward me. And every time he did, something inside my chest tightened with a feeling close to awe.
When Cole assisted for the winning goal, the crowd lost it.
Keegan was on his feet, clapping like a proud brother. Taranis actually smiled, wide and genuine. Max shouted, “THAT’S MY CENTER!” loud enough that several fans turned to grin at him.
Ignatius didn’t grin—but his eyes gleamed.
Doryu leaned close, voice soft. “He’s shining for you.”
I was shining for him.
When the final buzzer sounded and Cole’s team won their game, the players lined up for the traditional stick taps. Fans screamed. Cameras flashed. Broadcasters threw around names like “breakout star” and “face of the league.”
But Cole didn’t seem overwhelmed.
He just kept looking at me.
Not searching. Like he knew exactly what waited for him after he left the ice. Keegan slung an arm around my shoulders. “He’s coming straight here after post-game stuff.”
Max nodded. “Don’t run away this time.”
Taranis added gently, “He needs you.”
I swallowed hard and nodded. “I’m not going anywhere.” And in that moment, surrounded by dragons, teammates, men who loved Cole in a dozen different ways, it felt like I wasn’t alone anymore.
It felt like I belonged.
Like Cole and I both did.
Chapter twenty-seven
Final Shift - The last time a player takes the ice in that game.
Phoenix
One week later
The farther we drove up Ignatius’s mountain road, the quieter everything became. Snow muffled the edges of the world, softening the trees and the air itself, until it felt like we were leaving reality behind.
Keegan drove, humming along to whatever classical piece Ignatius insisted on playing. Cole sat beside me in the backseat, knee pressed lightly against mine, the warmth of him steadying me more than the heated leather seats ever could.
Ignatius broke the comfortable silence first.
“We received news this morning,” he said, eyes on the winding road. “About Wells.”
Cole stiffenedbeside me, and I instinctively reached for his hand under the blanket we’d spread across our laps.
