He reaches me, and without hesitation, without looking around to see who's watching, he cups my face with both hands and kisses me.
On camera.
In front of 150,000+ viewers.
My brain breaks. Every coherent thought evaporates. There's nothing but the warmth of his mouth, the solid weight of his hands on my face, the way he's kissing me like I'm the only person in the world.
When he pulls back, we're both breathing hard, visible puffs of air mingling between us.
"Hi," he says, and he's smiling wide.
"You just—" I gesture vaguely at everything. "—everyone saw—"
"I don't care."
"Ace—"
"I love you." The words come out firm, sure. "I don't want to hide anymore."
The world tilts on its axis.
Everything goes quiet. Or maybe I've just stopped hearing anything except the blood rushing in my ears.
"I love you," he repeats, like maybe I didn't hear him the first time, like he needs to make absolutely sure I understand. "I'm in love with you. And I don't care who knows."
Around us, the team is losing their minds, cheering, whistling, and someone's definitely crying (it might be Mama Paws, it might be me, unclear).
I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know anything anymore. Instinctively, I pull out my phone, completely numb fingers fumbling, and check the stream chat because I'm a masochist, apparently.
The comments are moving so fast I can barely read them:
OMG DID THAT JUST HAPPEN
I'M CRYING
THEY'RE IN LOVE
WHO'S CUTTING ONIONS
I CAME FOR HOCKEY AND LEFT WITH FEELINGS
I look back at Ace, and he's still there, still looking at me with those impossibly blue eyes, waiting for me to say something.
My brain is mush. Complete and total mush. I should say something meaningful, something romantic, something that matches the magnitude of what he just did.
What comes out is: "I love you too."
Not eloquent. Not poetic. Just true.
His smile gets impossibly wider, and he kisses me again, and this time I kiss back properly, wrapping my arms around his neck, not caring about the skates or the ice or the fact that we're both going to fall if we're not careful.
"SAVE IT FOR THE LOCKER ROOM!" Becker yells, but he's laughing.
We break apart, both grinning, and the team is already organizing for the final photo.
Everyone gathers on the ice—players, firefighters, Frank, Kayla, Hunter, Mama and Papa Paws. Becker's holding Hendrix, who's still screaming "WHAT THE PUUUUCK?" at random intervals. We're all covered in snow, cheeks red from cold, smiling so hard our faces hurt.
Becker's got his phone on a timer, propped up on his equipment case, and we all squeeze together.
