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“I’ll be cheering for you.”
I brush my lips over hers. The elevator doors slide open, and I grudgingly release her. She steps into the hall and blows us both another kiss. “Kick their ass tonight.”
Roman laughs, and she winks as the doors slide closed.
“You all right?” I ask once it’s the two of us.
He leans against the wall and crosses his arms. “You know, I worried I wouldn’t be able to handle seeing you and my daughter together.”
I nod. I get that it isn’t easy, but she needs to know I put her first every time. “I know it’s a transition, but I’d rather you be pissed at me than deny her affection.”
“That’s exactly how it should be.” A hint of a smile tips the corner of his mouth. “She’s happy with you. Happier than I’ve ever seen her. I’m not saying this is easy to get used to, but the way you love her makes the awkwardness worth it. I just want her to be content and loved, and that’s what I see when she’s with you.”
“I’d do anything for her,” I admit.
“I know.”
The elevator doors open, and we step out into the warm May afternoon. The playoffs have been intense, and this could be a historic night for us. We take Tristan’s SUV to the arena, and when we arrive, the energy in the locker room is electric. Everyone is buzzing with nerves and excitement. And that goes with us onto the ice.
When it’s time for the game, the girls are all behind the bench tonight. Ashish ends up on the Jumbotron when he blows his wife a kiss. Shilpa catches it and brings her fingers to her lips. Earlier in the season, I would have razzed him for that, but tonight I can appreciate their commitment to each other. This isn’t an easy life, and Shilpa is a rock star.
Tristan scans the row for Rix and taps his fist over his heart. Rix makes a heart with both her hands and when the camera pans away, she drops it to her crotch.
Dallas laughs.
Flip glances behind us. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Tristan and I say at the same time.
Flip gives the girls a thumbs-up, and Tally’s face turns red as the cameras return to their row.
Aurora and I do what we always do when she’s at games these days: at the same time, we mouth the words I love you and make the corresponding hand gestures. Is it cheesy as fuck? Absolutely. But it makes her smile every time. The crowd has gotten wise to this, and pictures of us have ended up on the hockey sites recently. It used to bother me when that happened with Scarlet, but it feels different with Aurora. There’s no agenda; we’re not on display. And Aurora’s grown up in the hockey world, so she’s used to it. That makes it easier to roll with.
Stiles and Madden start the game strong, scoring a goal in the first two minutes. But Bowman ties it up at the end of the first period. Grace scores another goal for New York at the beginning of the second period, and then we’re fighting to tie it back up through the end of the second period. It’s an intense game, with New York working to drag this out to all seven games. But at the beginning of the third period, Madden scores, tying it up again. Everyone is playing hard, and Grace is using it to his advantage. With six minutes left in the game, Stiles takes a hit. It doesn’t look like it should take him out of the game, but he’s favoring his right leg. And we’re set up for a face off at New York’s net, putting us in an ideal position.
There’s a back and forth with the refs, and Stiles skates back to the bench, shaking his head.
“You all right, man?” I ask as I pass him.
He lifts his chin, a slight smile at the corner of his mouth. “Get that goal, man.”
I take my place at right wing, and the puck drops. There’s a scramble for control, and Madden flips it to me. I skate behind the crease and pass it back, getting into position. We’re back and forth, keeping the puck away from New York, looking for weak spots in their defense. Madden takes the shot on net, but it bounces off the post. The roar of excitement becomes a sigh of disappointment.
But New York’s defense misses the opportunity to reclaim control, and Madden snags the pass. Defense is already in position, though, blocking his shot on net. He passes to me as I move in, ready to take the shot. New York’s goalie adjusts his position, and at the last second, I scoop the puck and flip it up. It sails over his pads and hits the back of the net.
Toronto loses their fucking minds, and I find myself smashed into Madden and Palaniappa.
We try to compose ourselves pretty quickly. We still have four and a half minutes of play left. We’re in the lead, but anything could happen.
New York scrambles to get back in the game, but Grace makes a stupid move during the next shift with Stiles and gets called for tripping. The two-minute penalty attached to that makes it impossible for New York to score the goal they so desperately need to stay in the series.
We win the game 3-2, and the Cup is ours. It’s one hell of an end to my comeback season.
The locker room is buzzing after the game, and Tristan claps me on the back, his grin wide. “Dude. You made history.”
I shake my head, but I can’t stop smiling. “That should have been your goal.”
“Who knows what would have happened if I’d been out there instead of you? That could have been any of us. You fought for this, man. I know it; you know it. Celebrate the fuck out of it.”
