“Later,” he repeats. “I have to get ready. Sit by the bench and I’ll see you after practice.”
We’re halfway to the tunnel when the arena’s in-house announcer’s voice booms through the speakers, testing levels.
“Good afternoon, everyone. Welcome to the Outlaws' open practice!”
A few minutes later, I’m in the family section near the glass behind the bench, a hot chocolate in my hands because the arena is freezing, and the cocoa here is genuinely excellent.
The guys are on the ice for warmups.
Colby skates a lap and glances up.
Not a quick look.
A look that finds me.
He taps his stick once on the ice, like a tiny signal.
My heart does the stupid skidding thing.
And then the announcer’s voice crackles again.
“Folks,” he says, amused, “do you remember that infamous kiss cam moment from a few weeks ago? The one involving our very own captain?”
A ripple of laughter moves through the small crowd.
I sink lower in my seat. Oh no.
“Apparently,” the announcer continues, “it worked so well the first time, he has requested a… follow-up.”
The lights above the ice flicker.
Not a full kiss cam.
Just a soft spotlight that lands squarely on me.
Laughter ripples through the crowd, followed by a round of applause.
I press a hand to my chest. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Colby looks up again. This time he doesn’t just find me.
He smiles.
Not cocky.
Not guarded.
Just sure.
He skates over to the boards and hops the small gate with practiced ease, helmet still on, gloves dangling from one hand.
The announcer chuckles. “Ladies and gentlemen, sometimes the best plays aren’t drawn up. They just… happen.”
Colby removes his helmet, rests his forearms on the glass, close enough now that I can see the familiar crease between his brows.
A cheer goes up behind us as I step down to meet him.
He leans in over the glass and kisses me, quick and warm, and the crowd cheers.
