Someone—probably Rowan—had found champagne, and the cork popped the moment Camille and Lou came into view.
"To our champions!" Frankie shouted, her voice slightly slurred from the painkillers she was undoubtedly on for herconcussion. A white bandage peeked out from beneath her team cap, but her grin was as wide as Camille had ever seen it. "And to our lovebirds finally making it official! About damn time!"
The team erupted in cheers. Elise pulled them both into a bone-crushing hug. Rowan was crying—happy tears, her face split with a grin that seemed too big for her features. Even Mara was smiling, her usually stern expression softened by genuine joy.
"I'm proud of both of you," Mara said, gripping Lou's shoulder and then Camille's. "What you did in there—that took guts. Real guts."
Camille's eyes burned with tears she refused to let fall. "Thank you. For supporting us. For making this possible."
"You made it possible." Mara's voice was firm. "All I did was get out of your way."
The celebration continued as they moved toward the locker room—champagne passed from hand to hand, voices raised in songs Camille only half-recognized, the particular joy of a team that had achieved the impossible. They'd qualified for the PWHL. They'd come out publicly. They'd done everything they'd set out to do and more.
But through it all, Camille's hand stayed in Lou's. Their fingers remained intertwined, their bodies gravitating toward each other even in the chaos of celebration. It was such a simple thing—holding hands—but after weeks of hiding, of stolen moments and careful distance, it felt revolutionary.
"Hey." Lou pulled her to the side of the corridor, away from the celebration for just a moment. Her green eyes were bright with emotion, her face open in a way Camille had rarely seen it in public. "I meant what I said in there. I'm proud to stand beside you. Today and every day after."
Camille cupped Lou's face in her hands and kissed her. Not a careful kiss, not a hidden kiss, but the kind of kiss that saidI love youandI choose youandthe whole world can watch if they want to.
When they finally broke apart, the team was cheering again—this time with wolf whistles and applause and the particular enthusiasm of people who'd been rooting for this outcome all along.
"Get a room!" Frankie shouted, laughing, and the rest of the team joined in with catcalls and applause.
"Later," Lou called back, her arm tight around Camille's waist, her voice rough with emotion. "Right now, we celebrate with our team. We've earned this."
They rejoined the group, and the celebration swept them up again—champagne and laughter and the sweet, impossible joy of dreams coming true. Camille let herself be carried by it, let herself feel every moment without analyzing or calculating or planning what came next.
For the first time in her life, she was exactly where she belonged. With Lou beside her, with her team around her, with the whole world watching and nothing left to hide.
This was her life now. Open, honest, loved.
The road ahead wouldn't be easy. There would be critics and skeptics, sponsors who walked away and headlines that twisted her words. There would be hard conversations and public scrutiny and moments when she'd wish she could retreat back into the comfortable safety of her carefully constructed image.
But Lou would be there. The team would be there. And the truth—the simple, powerful truth of who she was and who she loved—would carry her through.
It was better than anything she'd ever imagined. And it was only the beginning.
EPILOGUE
ONE YEAR LATER
The final buzzer sounded like a symphony.
Phoenix Ridge Valkyries 4, Ottawa Bruins 2. Another victory, another step closer to the PWHL championship that had seemed impossible just eighteen months ago. The scoreboard blazed their triumph in bright LED numbers while confetti cannons fired streams of purple and gold into the air. The arena erupted around them—home fans on their feet, the particular roar of a crowd that had watched their team transform from underdogs to contenders.
Lou raised her stick to acknowledge the crowd, sweat dripping down her temples beneath her helmet, her body aching in that satisfying way that meant she'd left everything on the ice. At thirty-five, she probably should have been thinking about retirement, about what came after hockey, about the life that waited beyond the boards.
But standing here in the arena where she'd discovered love, built a family, become the person she was always meant to be—retirement felt very far away.
She looked across the ice at her teammates. Frankie wasalready organizing the post-game celebration, her scarred face split in a grin that made her look like a victorious pirate, she grabbed Elise by the arm.
And Camille.
Camille skated toward her with that particular grace that still made Lou's heart stutter, her blonde hair darkened with sweat and plastered to her forehead, her smile wide enough to light the entire arena. A year together, and the sight of her still took Lou's breath away.
"Great game, Captain." Camille's voice was teasing, her blue eyes dancing with affection.
"You scored twice. I think you deserve most of the credit."
