Hux, Mironov, and Minns collided with us in a sweaty hug.
The first line.
NHL champions.
Cameras flashed, and I knew I wanted one of those photos. It was going straight to the pool room.
Our family and friends converged on the ice, a sea of purple, black, and white moving down from the stands. I watched as Keeley, Spencer, and Hannah, who was riding on Spencer’s shoulders, began to descend the stairs toward the ice. They all wore my jersey, their unequivocal support as much a statement as my number on their backs was my stamp of ownership of them. My heart filled as I watched Spencer navigate his way carefully past the fans who’d realized he was in the crowd. They closed in, and security stepped up, opening a path for them to traverse.
Keeley walked cautiously onto the ice and took Spencer’s hand. Gratitude and love overtook the pride and elation from our victory. I couldn’t believe this was my life. I had to pinch myself sometimes. Every dream I’d ever had just came true. I got the girl, I got the guy, I got the baby, I got the family.
I got the Cup.
“Dada,” Hannah cried and clapped her hands.
My heart stopped. Tears filled my eyes, and I choked out a laugh. Spencer lifted her down and handed the feisty little girl straight to me.
I wrapped her up in my arms and hugged her tight. I had no hope of stopping my tears from falling. “I love you, sweet pea.” Hannah pressed an open-mouthed kiss to my cheek and patted my wet hair. “No cry, Bay.”
I kissed her until she was giggling and squealing, kicking her legs, and I laughed. “They’re happy tears, Hannah. Y’all, I’m so happy.” I wrapped an arm around Spencer and pressed our foreheads together, my grin impossibly wide.
“I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, Texas.”
I kissed him, a slow press of my still-smiling lips to his. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Both of you. All of you.” I pressed a kiss to Hannah’s forehead and buried my face in Keeley’s shoulder as she hugged me close.
“You were magic on the ice,” she breathed. “Just magnificent. We’re so proud of you, Brayden. We love you. So much.”
“I love you too.” I laughed and held Hannah up high and shouted, “We just won the Stanley Cup.”
“Yay! Go, Dada! Go, hockey!” Hannah cried, pumping her arms and kicking her little legs. She was dressed in head-to-toe purple—beanie, jersey, sweats, and fluffy snow boots. She was cute as a button and already hockey mad, just like her dada.
“This summer, we’re gonna teach you how to skate.”
Hannah’s eyes lit up, and she gasped. “Yas peese.”
I looked around when I heard another little girl squeal, and I watched as Gauthier spun Charlie around. Carina was close, standing between their two “roommates.” The four of them were the worst-kept secret in the league, but by this point, with so many of us in polyamorous relationships, no one cared anymore.
Hux was with Cara and Monroe, the three of them embracing with their heads together. I watched as Monroe ran his fingersthrough Hux’s long hair, speaking quietly to him. Hux was nodding, his breaths visibly wobbly as he inhaled slowly.
Mironov was hugging Sasha, one hand on her rounded belly, and Rune was with Cleo, kissing her between laughter. I looked around, trying to find Joey. He was standing a few feet back, separate from them. My breath caught in my throat, my heart breaking for them. Rune desperately wanted out of the closet, but he was waiting for the right time. I had no idea when that would be, but I knew he was sick to death of being unable to claim Joey as theirs.
Minns held Kamirah’s hand andtheLocke freaking Ledger,theHollywood action hero himself, had Minns bent backward in a kiss that was steamy enough to melt the ice. I still couldn’t believe the man had bagged himself Hollywood’s hottest bachelor. Then again, I’d done pretty much the same. I grinned, turned my attention back to my family, and pressed a lingering kiss to Keeley’s lips.
“This is surreal,” I breathed.
“This is what you deserve,” Spencer corrected.
I still couldn’t believe we’d achieved it. I’d always dreamed of being able to hoist the Cup. It was even sweeter with this team. I’d been accepted for exactly who I was. There was no don’t-ask-don’t-tell bullshit that there had been with the Blizzards. These boys had become my family, and my girls had filled Spencer's and my lives to bursting.
We broke apart to shake hands with the Boomtown. I uttered, “Good game,” to most of them, except Moore, their center.
“Congratulations,” he mumbled, refusing to look at me.
“Best team won,” I teased and clapped his shoulder. It wasn’t the first time I’d crossed paths with the serious man. He had zero personality and couldn’t take a joke to save himself. He was boring, stuck up, and really fucking good.
The ceremonies began, and Gauthier picked up the giant trophy. But he didn’t lift it. Instead, he gestured to us with a tilt of his head and waited until we surrounded him.
“Now we hoist the Cup,” roared and lifted it above his head. We all reached up, our arms in the air as we screamed and yelled, cheering our victory. Adrenaline rushed through me, joy, victory, and gratitude coursing through my veins. It was sweet as pie, and a moment I’d cherish with my brothers.
