My teammates swarmed me, fists pumping, voices raised in shouts that shook the rafters. I was dragged down into a pile of jerseys and unhinged celebration—sweat and laughs and fists slamming against helmets.
And through it all, I looked up—past the chaos, past the blur of fans—and found her. Hands over her mouth. Eyes shining. Completely wrecked by it.
Dominic let out a roar from the bench, the sound of pride and fire and something that felt damn close to family. Luke vaulted the boards like it was his name on the goal sheet, slamming into me with a grin that said this win belonged to all of us.
But even with the team crashing in, even with Axyl howling beside me like a wolf drunk on victory, I only looked for one thing—her.
My eyes found her like gravity, like instinct. She was already on her feet, arms raised high above her head, mouth open in a cheer that punched straight through the noise. Her eyes sparkled like victory itself, and I felt the breath leave my lungs in one sharp, reverent pull.
The smile that broke across my face wasn’t for the goal. It wasn’t for the win.
It was for her.
Because in that moment, everything else disappeared—the ache in my shoulders, the sting of hits, the chaos still raging around me. All I could see was her. Lit up with joy. Lit up for me.
And that? That made every slash, every bruise, every ounce of sweat on this ice worth it.
She saw me.
And I’d go through hell again if it meant seeing that look on her face one more time—like I was more than just a jersey, more than just a player.
Like I was hers.
And yeah, I planned to keep scoring—on the ice, sure. But off it? I wanted more than goals.
I wanted a life where she was always waiting for me in the stands… and in my bed after.
Chapter 17
Kennedy
I stood just outside the players’ exit, cold seeping through the fabric of Nick’s jersey like it had something to prove. The sleeves nearly swallowed my hands, the hem brushing the tops of my thighs—but I didn’t care. It smelled like him. Felt like him. And in this sea of strangers and flashing team colors, it was the only thing tethering me to solid ground.
The energy was electric, chaotic. People crowded around the ropes, shouting, laughing, buzzing with post-game adrenaline. I kept my face calm—shoulders squared, lips pressed into something almost resembling confidence. But inside? I was a live wire.
Every cheer made me flinch. Every passing glance felt like it lingered too long. And still, I waited.
“You see her?” someone hissed nearby. “That’s Maddox’s girl.”
Another voice, sharper, nastier: “She dumped Gary for him? Seriously?”
I didn’t look.
“She’s a puck bunny in a jersey two sizes too big.”
I held my chin higher.
A flash of laughter. “Bet she’s already planning the engagement post.”
My stomach knotted, but I refused to give them the satisfaction. They didn’t know anything about me—about us. Let them fill in the blanks with jealousy and rumor. I knew the truth.
I adjusted the jersey and turned slightly, so the name on my back—MADDOX—was clear as day.
A flicker of doubt crept in—not about Nick. Never about him.
But about this.
The moment. The attention. The way people were already looking at me like I was some kind of headline in the making.
