Suddenly, out of the rink door, a figure bursts out.
A white fox.
Full costume. Ears. Tail. Headpiece with glittery eyelashes.
The crowd erupts in laughter before the announcer even finishes:
“Featuring the unforgettable antics of… Mr. Nibbles!”
Scotty’s teammates slam into the boards, dying laughing, because of course, of course, it’s Erik. When they called him back and said they couldn’t do this production without his antics, he asked me if it was okay, and I gave him my blessing.
Who knew he was born to play a furry, white fox?
He immediately attempts a cartwheel on the ice. It goes as well as expected: he lands on his butt, pops back up with a flourishing bow, and the crowd goes wild.
Then he starts a full choreographed routine with two dancers dressed as snowflakes. Unfortunately for the back up dancers, it’s clear Erik starts improvising.
“Is he—” Reign covers her mouth.
“Don’t say it,” I choke out, laughing.
“—doing the splits?” Reign finishes anyway.
He is. He absolutely is, and the crowd loses their minds.
Erik pops up, does a dramatic tail swish, and skates backward toward the center ice spotlight.
One of the Crushers Ice Girls skates out to hand him a prop lantern, clearly part of the routine. She’s a tall redhead, and even from here, I can see her scowling as Erik launches into a dramatic monologue with absolutely no microphone.
He drops to one knee, clutches the lantern to his chest, and howls mournfully like a fox with heartbreak.
The arena howls back.
Just as the music ends, Erik attempts a backflip, and…. Lands it.
The crowd explodes, cheering like he just saved a puppy from a burning building.
“Tickets on sale now!” the announcer roars as Erik strikes a final pose with jazz hands, tail swishing dramatically.
Lyss is wiping tears from her eyes. “I swear, he’s going to be more famous than you two.”
I laugh, breathless. “Honestly? He might be.”
Erik finally disappears back into the tunnel—still waving, still dramatic, still Mr. Nibbles—the entire arena is buzzing.
The lights come back up, the ice is cleared, and just like that, the energy shifts. The second period starts, and Scotty hits the hit like he never left it. He dominates every shift, scoring twice, assisting on another, and by the time the final buzzer sounds, the Crushers have taken the game 5–2.
The crowd goes wild, and I make my way down toward the tunnel where players will emerge after the locker room celebration.
I don't have to wait long.
Scotty appears, hair still damp from the shower, cheeks pink from the cold, and his whole face lights up when he sees me standing near his parents. He drops his bag without looking and pulls me into a kiss that makes the crowd noise fade into nothing.
“You were incredible,” I say when we finally break apart.
“So were you.” He keeps his hands on my hips. “Best anthem of the season.”
“You say that every time.”
