I was in the slot, stick ready. The puck deflected off a defender’s skate and came right to me.
I didn’t think. Just reacted.
Roof. Top corner. Past the goalie’s glove.
Score.
Three goals and an assist in two games.
Buffalo came back hard, pressing for another goal. But our defense held strong. Marco and Jensen were everywhere—blocking shots, breaking up rushes, clearing the zone.
Marco took a hit in front of the net and went down hard. My heart stopped.
I was skating toward him before I thought about it. A month ago, I would’ve worried about how it looked. Now I didn’t care. “You hurt?”
He was pushing himself up, and I could see him testing his right foot—the one that had been broken.
“Your foot—is it?—”
“It’s fine.” He met my eyes for just a second, and I saw the reassurance there. “I’m good.”
Relief flooded through me. I squeezed his arm once—quick but deliberate—then forced myself to skate back to position.
We made it to the second intermission up a goal, 2–1.
The third period was where everything came together.
Five minutes in, Jensen scored on a breakaway. 3–1.
Buffalo pulled their goalie with two minutes left, desperate for goals. Six attackers pressed into our zone, and it was chaos—bodies everywhere, the puck bouncing, Reid making save after impossible save.
Forty seconds left.
I got the puck in the neutral zone, saw the empty net, and fired.
It slid across the ice, tracking true, and hit the back of the net with thirty seconds to go.
4–1.
My third goal of the game. A hat trick.
The crowd went insane. Hats rained down on the ice.
This time, Kinnunen got to me first, then Jensen crashed in from behind. Marco was there too, and for just a second, our eyes met through the chaos.
The final seconds ticked down, and the horn sounded.
We’d won. 4–1. First game as publicly out players, and we’d won.
The team gathered at center ice, gloves raised, celebrating. The crowd was on their feet, the noise deafening. I looked around, taking it all in—the fans, the signs, the rainbow flags, the support that had carried us through this game.
And then I turned and saw Marco skating toward me.
He wasn’t smiling. His face was intense, focused,determined. Like he’d made a decision and nothing was going to stop him.
He reached me, and before I could say anything, his hands were already moving—yanking off his helmet, then reaching for mine, urgent and determined.
And then he kissed me.
