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“What do you mean?” My voice was barely audible.

“It’s over. I’m done living for his approval. I’m living for me now. For us.”

“But what about your team? What⁠—”

“What I want is you,” he interrupted firmly, his voice steady. “It’s always been you. Forever and always, that’s what I want.”

I kissed him again, pouring everything I felt into it.

The bar erupted into cheers, reminding me that our emotional reunion was happening in the middle of a crowd of random people. But I didn’t care. This was what mattered.

He was what mattered.

When the noise died down, the TV caught my attention again.

“In an unexpected trade agreement, the San Jose Stars have acquired former Dallas Desperados Coach Josh Monroe, defenseman Christian Jimenez, and star center Dalton Thatcher, despite his recent injury.”

My head whipped back to Dalton. “You’re playing here?”

He smiled, brushing a tear from my cheek.

“We’re staying here,” Jimenez said, coming out of nowhere and wrapping his arms around us. “Ugh, that was beautiful. Fucking choked me up. Hell, I think Monroe even shed a tear.”

I pulled away, looking over Dalton’s shoulder toward where Jimenez pointed. Sure enough, my former boss stood stoic, hands shoved into his pockets. But his usual frown was replaced by a slight upturn at the corners of his lips.

“Why…how did you all end up on the Stars?” I asked, mind still reeling.

“Well,” Monroe started. “Thatcher’s in love, and was coming whether he could play hockey or not. And we didn’t want to stay behind and work for that asshole. Not that we had a choice since he signed our trade papers too. And I didn’t want to take the blame for the property damage to his car.” Monroe’s gaze shifted toward Gracie, who was studying her drink like it was the most interesting thing in the world, and took a sip. “The police report I read said Vincent’s car appeared to have been hit with a long wooden implement. And wouldn’t you know, Gracie, I’m missing a hockey stick from the bed of my truck.”

She broke out into a coughing fit. “Damn. That’s crazy. You really should put those somewhere more secure,” she said, looking him dead in the eye with a blank face.

My face split into a smile. Pinche, pendeja. She one hundred percent was guilty. And I was one hundred percent so grateful for her.

“That still doesn’t explain how you ended up traded to the Stars,” I said, staring into Dalton’s eyes, who’d yet to let me go.

“He lied.” His face darkened. “When my dad said he’d trade Monroe and Jimenez if you didn’t leave. He’d already done the deal. The plan was to remove anyone from my life he thought might pull me away from his goals. So, I got a new agent and secured some things first,” he explained, some of the anger slipping away.

“But that’s not how trades work. You can’t just decide where you want to go…”

Dalton smiled with that boyish grin. “Luckily, even with a bum rib, I’ve got a good enough record they were interested in me. Plus, I grew up with the captain, Hogan. He pulled some strings. Finalized the trade papers this morning and had my lawyer send them over to my dad. In fact,” he pulled out his phone. “This is the asshole calling about it now, I bet.”

He answered the call, and even with it pressed to his ear, there was no mistaking the bark of anger from his father on the other line. “Hello to you too, Vincent.” Dalton paused for another string of what I was sure was an ass-chewing. With each word, Dalton’s smile grew larger until he finally cut him off.

“Here’s the thing, my lawyer did a little digging. Had a nice chat with Emma, too. We pulled together a lot of interesting information about how you run your business. Turns out you can’t do a thing about the trade, because if you attempt to mess with me, my team, or my girlfriend in any way, I’ll fucking bury you.”

Hearing a man threaten his father should not make you wet, yet my body would disagree with that logic.

“I don’t give a damn about the Langley empire. It’s not my last name attached to it.” I swore I heard crashing over the phone, but Dalton just kept talking. “If you have anything else you want to say to me, contact my lawyer.”

He ended the call, to a round of applause from our friends.

“Hell, yeah,” Jimenez yelled, punching Gracie playfully in the arm. Monroe even flashed a rare smile. I didn’t think I’d ever been more proud of someone than I was right then.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” I whispered, too emotional to get the words out any louder.

Dalton dropped a kiss to the top of my head. “No, he doesn’t, and you showed me that. I love you, Ariella. I was coming even if I couldn’t play hockey. I only want to be where you are.”

My chest twisted with a rush of emotions that were the polar opposite of the ones I’d had at the beginning of the night.