He chased a loose puck behind the goal and took a hit that made my stomach clench.
Get up. Come on, get up.
He did. Relief made me dizzy, and I had to brace against the wall to stay upright.
I returned to my seat and sucked in ragged breaths. Both teams were running on fumes, and I pressed my hands against my thighs to keep from gripping the rail again. There was nothing I could do from here but watch.
If the Warriors lost, I’d be the one sitting with Pack afterward. I’d watch him try to hold it together in front of me, and I’d know exactly what it cost him. When the Condors lost three years ago, I’d gone into a funk that lasted half the summer.
The Pulse pushed hard. A shot rang off the crossbar like a gunshot, and I cried out. Behind me, someone swore. One woman laughed hysterically, her reactions obviously confused.
Pack vaulted over the boards again and cut across the ice, stick out, calling for the puck.
Do it, babe. End this.
After a scramble, the puck squirted loose in front of the net. I lost sight of it. Chaos exploded on the ice, with players scattering in different directions and San Jose’s goalie craning his head one way and then another.
Time slowed as Pack raced into the slot and set up in front of the goal. Logan launched a shot that cracked through the arena, but it bounced off a pad and slid toward Pack.
My lungs seized in my chest. Maybe my heart stopped.
He didn’t wind up, just snapped his wrists and shoved the puck forward, threading it through a tiny gap between the goalie’s legs.
Nothing happened. I needed air so badly I got lightheaded.
Then the horn detonated the building.
Like everyone else, I screamed. I leaned over the edge, my vision blurring as the Warriors poured off the bench. His linemates surrounded Pack a few seconds before the team swallowed them whole. Helmets, gloves, and sticks flew into the air and rained onto the ice. The Warriors crushed Pack under a pile of bodies and joy.
Tears streamed down my face as I locked into a hug with the woman next to me. We jumped up and down like maniacs, still screaming. I couldn’t have been happier if I’d scored that goal.
The woman and I let go as the pile of men on the ice began pulling apart. There he was, my man, grinning ear to ear. He was a champion. Fuck, he’d scored the game-winning goal after one of the hardest-fought series I could remember.
A wave of emotion had me teetering. I was overwhelmed with the bone-deep certainty that Pack was my person, my life, and my future.
He looked up at the suite and pointed at me. I pressed my fist to my mouth, laughing and sobbing at the same time. Finally, I pointed back, and he returned to his celebration.
I shouldn’t have been allowed back there, but God help anyone who tried to stop me. As it happened, one of the security guards greeted me by name and waved me through.
The hallway outside the locker room smelled like sweat and rubber. Music thudded inside. Men were shouting, and their laughter gave me the best kind of chills. When another security guard nodded at me and opened the door, the sound mushroomed into a tidal wave.
Inside, it was bedlam. Half the Warriors were shirtless, and Dog had climbed onto a bench, waving a towel like a victory flag. Riley and Holky were making the rounds, trading chest bumps with everyone in sight. Beer and champagne arced through the air in wild, celebratory bursts.
Everyone was incandescent with joy. Of course they were. The Cup was theirs for the second time in three years.
For a moment, I hovered at the edge of the room, unsure what to do.
“Rossi!” Riley yelled, crashing into my chest. “Your boy’s the king. He’s around here somewhere.”
He was gone before I could say anything, and Brody was spraying me with champagne.
Holky ran over and held up both fists for a bump. “Nico! Glad you could make it.”
After he moved on, I looked around, trying to see through the mass of bodies filling the room. Finally, I spotted him. Pack was standing next to his stall, helmet off, hair plastered to his head and curling at his nape. He must have sensed he was being watched, because he scanned the room until he found me.
The rest of the world disappeared as he ran to me, champagne sloshing out of the bottle in his hand. He dropped it and caught my face between his palms.
“You came.” His voice was rough, but he showed me a blinding grin.
