The cameras broadcasting the game circle us, but he has eyes only for me. Then he leans down, wraps me in his arms, and kisses me in front of the whole stadium and my family and all the cameras.
“You can’t do—”
He kisses me again.
“If you want me to quit,” he says, “because you refuse to date a player—I will. I’ll walk away right now. I don’t need hockey. I need you. I love you. You got me further than I ever thought I’d go. I can quit. And I’ll be happy.”
I stare up at him, heart slamming against my ribs, throat tight.
I rise onto the tops of his skates so I can kiss him again, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I can’t have you quit and be happy,” I murmur against his mouth, “because at least one of us wants to win a Stanley Cup. I might be the one having to quit my job, though.”
Fletcher smirks. “I wouldn’t count on it. Though the NHL is a big, soulless organization, they have nothing on Dana, who will happily sacrifice her morals for profit.”
The press is waiting when Fletcher grabs my arm to lift me over the lip that leads off the ice.
He is unapologetic when the press demands, “Are you with your coach?”
“I don’t get paid shit,” he says, “so I’m going to sleep with my coach because I’m in love with her.”
“When they’re together, we win,” Jovi says simply when the press hounds him. “You can’t mess with superstition.” He knocks on the side wall.
Ziggy snickers. “It’s like Mom and Dad. She brings the snacks, and he’ll beat you if you step out of line.”
“He gets her pregnant, we’re going for the Stanley Cup,” Carlsson jokes, slapping Fletcher on the back.
“Grandbabies!” my mom squeals from the stands, making me choke on my spit.
The press clamors for quotes. “Are you going to spend Christmas together? What are you getting her for Christmas?”
“An engagement ring, hopefully,” my mom interjects.
“No! Get a hot tub.” My drunk female family members whoop.
“Do not bring a hot tub to my house,” I warn them.
“You live at home, Ellie.”
“Fuck.” I groan.
Fletcher snickers.
“Are you moving into her parents’ house?” Bramms asks him, confused.
“No.” My dad muscles through. “They’re going to date, then they’re going to get married, then they can move in next door to me.”
Fletcher’s eyes narrow.
My dad stares back.
“You, me, Ellie—we’re all gonna be roommates!” Granny Murray throws her arms around me and Fletcher.
“Can I move in with you?” Cookie begs.
“No,” Fletcher barks. Then he kisses me again in front of all the cameras.
“Don’t act so offended,” he tells the press, leveling that cold gray gaze on them. “I’m the captain of the Rhode Islanders. And Dana Holbrook didn’t hire me for my good behavior.”
And in that moment, I got everything I didn’t know I wanted for Christmas.
