I nodded. “Had to see you. And I didn’t want to miss this.”
He laughed, then leaned his forehead against mine. There was nothing but his sweaty skin, the warmth of his hands, and the heat radiating off him.
“We won!”
“I know,” I said, laughing. “I watched you do it.”
“When I scored that last goal, all I could think was ‘where’s Nix?’”
“Yelling myself hoarse,” I said. “About to blow apart with happiness.”
A roar went up behind us, and someone cranked the music louder. We turned to see Gabe holding the Laurentian over his head.
“Goddamn destiny, boys!” he yelled. “This is here to stay.”
Harpy sprayed more champagne in a wide arc and yelled, “That’s my fucking team!”
Pack looked at me again. His eyes shone, and he was unguarded in a way I’d rarely seen him. “You okay with staying?”
I grinned. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“No way.” He brushed a thumb under my eye. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Logan leaned in over Pack’s shoulder, his smirk a mile wide. “Hey, Rossi. You keeping him?”
Pack laughed. “Pretty sureI’mkeepinghim.”
“Smart man.” Logan clapped Pack’s shoulder and drifted back into the chaos.
Brody appeared long enough to shove beers into our hands, and then he wandered off, too. Around us, the party continued.
Pack grinned and punched my arm. “I’m going to be unbearable for the next few hours.”
“You earned it.”
“We’re all heading to Revolution Hops after the presser. You’re coming.”
In a flash, I was as dizzy as I’d been white-knuckling it during the game. He was taking me with him in front of the whole team, the city, and anyone else who happened to be watching.
“Try and stop me,” I said. “Someone’s got to keep you humble.”
While we laughed, the Warriors’ PR guy came over and said the press was threatening to storm the locker room if Pack didn’t go talk to them.
“Be back,” Pack told me, already backing away. “I love you.”
He hadn’t lowered his voice or hesitated, and it was hard to breathe as I watched him go. Champagne dripped from his hair as the Laurentian Cup gleamed in the background. I was incredibly lucky. The man I’d loved for a decade, the biggest hero in professional hockey, loved me too.
45/
packy
After weeksof parades and appearances, we finally had nowhere to be. I took a sip of coffee and leaned back against the counter, letting that thought settle.
Nix padded into the kitchen in socks and one of my old T-shirts, hair sticking up at impossible angles. He blinked at the sunlight, then at me. “Morning.”
“Hey,” I said. “You hungry?”
He squinted at the coffeemaker. “Coffee or motor oil?”
