Page 63 of For Pucking Ever

For the first time, despite the uncertainty ahead, I feel absolutely free.

My phone buzzes incessantly in my pocket, but I ignore it. Whatever media storm is brewing can wait until morning. Right now, I want to savor this moment of clarity, of finally standing in my own truth. Derrick's thumb traces small circles on the back of my hand, a subtle reminder that I'm not alone anymore.

"You know, I've never seen you look so terrified. I've always admired your ability to remain steadfast despite all the crazy surrounding us." Tor appears at my side, his expression a mixture of respect and concern. "You good?"

I take a deep breath, straightening my shoulders. "I'm better than good."

He nods, understanding passing between us without needing more words. As captain, Tor has always had a sixth sense about his players, about what we need. Right now, his quiet solidarity means everything.

A flash goes off nearby, another photo taken. I feel Derrick tense beside me, but I squeeze his hand reassuringly. I know the secret's out now. No more hiding.

"Maybe we should go," Derrick suggests quietly. "Give you some space to process everything."

I shake my head. "Non. These are my paintings. This is my night." I look around at the crowded gallery, at my work displayed on every wall, at the red dots marking sold pieces. "For once, I want to be completely present, completely myself."

Christian approaches with two glasses of champagne. "To the man of the hour.” He raises them in salute. “Both of them." He winks, handing us each a glass. "The press is already calling. I've held them off, but by morning, B. Ardent's identity will be headline news."

"Let them come." The words feel foreign on my tongue, yet somehow right. "I'm done living half a life."

Derrick's eyes widen slightly at my declaration, a small smile playing at his lips. "Who are you and what have you done with my brooding goaltender?"

I laugh, the sound surprising even me. "He's still here. Just. . .evolving."

As the night progresses, I find myself moving through the gallery with Derrick at my side, explaining my paintings to curious onlookers who now see not just the art but the artist behind them. The questions come, about hockey, about painting, about how I've managed both careers. I answer honestly, no longer filtering my words through fear.

When we finally step outside into the cool Seattle night, the weight I've carried for years has lifted. The street is quiet, a stark contrast to the buzzing gallery we've left behind. Derrick's hand remains firmly in mine as we walk toward my car.

"You know there's no going back," he says softly, his breath visible in the night air.

I stop, turning to face him under the glow of a streetlamp. His features are half-shadowed, but I can still see the concern in his eyes.

"I don't want to go back." I reach up, tracing my fingertips along his jaw. "For the first time in my life, I'm moving forward. All of me."

TWENTY-FIVE

INTERLUDE

HOCKEY HOTTIES & HEADLINES: YOUTUBE EPISODE 260

Okay babes, it’s your girl HockeyHomeGurlHattie. You might want to sit down for this one, because I have tea so hot it's currently melting through my keyboard.

Remember last night's ultra-exclusive art event in downtown Seattle? You know, the one with the invite-only crowd, the moody lighting, and enough black turtlenecks to make Paris Fashion Week weep? Well, someone in our little hockey world got an invite and they didn't just walk away with a glass of champagne and a free postcard—they walked away with the SCOOP OF THE YEAR.

Let me back up.

The art show was a private unveiling of a new series titled Variations of a Muse by none other than the elusive and ridiculously expensive artist B. Ardent. (You remember, the artist who sold a painting for $2.3 million last year without ever showing their face? That one.)

Now, nobody's ever seen B. Ardent. They're like the Banksy of oil paint and emotionally devastating brush strokes. But guess who was front and center at this show? Half the Seattle Vipers team. And who was walking in hand-in-hand like a soft-focus romcom scene?

SEBASTIAN BERGERON and DERRICK SHAW.

I'll give you a moment to gasp.

Yes. That Sebastian Bergeron. Ice King himself. Wall of Steel. The man who's more likely to be caught glaring down a slapshot than making heart eyes across a canvas. And Derrick Shaw, newest goalie for the Vipers, former golden boy of Toronto, recovering from that nasty concussion, looking FINE in a tailored suit and clearly not just a houseguest anymore.

Multiple attendees (who shall remain unnamed because I'm not trying to get sued) reported seeing Sebastian acting way too nervous as the crowd viewed the collection. Apparently, the paintings became increasingly personal. Abstractions, then landscapes, and finally—portraits. All of the same man. And that man? Was unmistakably Derrick Shaw.

Let's pause for effect.