“Go high,” I say to Lawson as I skate past him.
He nods, then flies onto the ice, jumping into the play. Another whistle is blown when Fox snatches the puck out of midair, and there’s another faceoff. Even though he’s usually on the wing, Lawson is the one on the draw because we need our best man right now, and it’s no surprise he wins it back.
Itisa surprise that he plays it off the boards and right to himself. He then smacks it over to Hayes, who skates it up the ice, pushing harder than I’ve ever seen him do before. It’s still not fast enough, because New York isright there, ready to snatch the puck back.
What they don’t count on is Lawson’s skating abilities, a skill that is severely underrated, and soon he’s not only flying past the New York players, but ours too. When Hayes passes him the puck—a beautiful tape-to-tape play—it’s no wonder New York’s goalie ends up sprawled on the ice and the puck lands in the back of the net.
“Holy shit!” Hutch explodes beside me, grabbing me and hauling me to my feet.
“What the fuck just happened?!” Locke yells, then he’s hopping over the boards just like the rest of our team.
Helmets go flying, and so do sticks as we all skate across the ice and crowd around Lawson and Hayes, who are hugging andcelebrating. Fox crashes into us, jumping as high as a goalie can in all that gear, and screams happily.
“We did it! We did it!”
He’s right—we did do it. For the first time in my career, I am a Cup champion, and there’s not a better group of guys out there to win the damn thing with. I hug every one of my teammates, some of them longer than others, and when I finally make my way to the game-winning goalscorer, he’s grinning ear to ear, his arms stretched wide.
“Kells! Come here, you beautiful fuck!”
For the first time, without any protest, I do. I wrap Lawson in my arms, then plant my lips right against his cheek. He’s finally getting the kiss he’s been teasing me about for years, and if it means getting to lift that trophy, I’d do it again, too.
“I knew you loved me!” Lawson yells once I set him back on his skates.
“Right now? Fuck yes, I do.”
He grins, then we hug again, because that’s just how damn good I feel right now. We’re handed champion-branded hats and shirts and towels, and I hug more people than I have in my entire life, even if there’s only one person I want to share this with.
Once the trophy is presented and Hutch takes a photo with it, he lifts it into the air, and the entire arena erupts in cheers once more. The next several minutes are a blur, even as I lift the thirty-plus-pound trophy and take my lap with it. I’m too preoccupied with thoughts of something else.Someoneelse.
I don’t know how long passes or really what’s said or happens until finally, there’s a part in the crowd, and I see her. My cheeks hurt, that’s how wide I’m smiling, and while I’m sure it’s a strange sight to some, it feels natural to me. It always has when it comes to her.
Chloe stands with her hands tucked into her back pockets, her teeth worrying her bottom lip as her eyes dart all over theplace, searching. She’s fucking stunning in her WAG jacket, her dark red locks up in a half ponytail, those same worn black boots she’s had forever strapped to her feet.
My favorite part, though? The ring sitting on her left hand. To my knowledge, she hasn’t taken it off since that night she came back to me, and if I have my way, she never will again.
In addition to a grueling schedule and working my ass off through the playoffs, I’ve been attending counseling sessions twice a week—one for myself to help work through my panic attacks, and the other with Chloe as we tackle the issues putting a strain on our marriage. It’s not like we’ve fixed anything overnight—we still have a long way to go—but it’s been a little easier to breathe lately without having to worry if I’m going to lose everything in one fell swoop.
I still cling to far too many fears, but losing Chloe isn’t one of them. She’s here, she’s staying for good, and it has nothing to do with her job atSeattle Life & Leisure. It’s for her. For me. Forus, which is exactly what we feel like now.
When her brown eyes snag on mine, I see the sigh of relief she lets out, and I go to her. She meets me halfway, throwing her arms around my neck, and I lift her into my arms. I hug her tightly, my face buried in her neck, just breathing her in. When I finally come up for air, she’s grinning at me.
“You did it.”
“I did it,” I echo.
Then I kiss her—hard. There’s nothing slow or sweet or gentle about it. It doesn’t matter that we’re standing on the ice surrounded by my teammates and Serpents staff and far too many reporters. All that matters is having her in my arms and my mouth on hers. She tastes like Diet Coke and chocolate, a combination that’s abominable, but I love it anyway because I loveher.
We break apart, and I’m still smiling as I set her on her feet, loving how her body slides against mine the whole way down.
“I’m so proud of you, Callum,” she says, her finger slipping into the ring around my neck. Though it’s always on my finger off the ice, it still stays on the chain when I’m playing. I’ve gotten used to keeping it there, and honestly, it makes me feel closer to my wife, even when she’s not around.
“I couldn’t have done it without you.” She opens her mouth to refute that, but I shake my head. “No, I’m serious. I wouldn’t be standing here without you. You gave me a reason to fight, even when I didn’t want to. You believed in me every step of the way, even when you weren’t here. I think somehow, someway, I felt that, and I needed it. I needed you.”
“You have me, Callum. I’m not going anywhere,” she promises.
“I know. Because you’re going to marry me.”
She laughs, her eyes sparkling under the arena’s bright lights. “We’re already married.”
