Morgan spins around so fast she nearly takes out his eye. "Yes, please. On the number."
Samuel signs her back with a flourish. "There you go. Now you officially own a piece of franchise history."
Morgan looks to me, eyes shining with actual tears.
And that's when it hits me. All at once.
Thisis the kind of moment I have spent ten years wishing I could hand her. Not the autograph, not the Sharpie scrawl across her back, not even Samuel Voss on one knee in front of her.
But thebignessof it. The wonder. The lit-up, can't-breathe magic of being a kid who gets handed something they didn't even dare to want out loud.
I haven't been able to give her this. I'd never have been able to give her this if it wasn't for Colt.
Not when I was working day and night to keep us alive, not when I was crying into bread dough at two in the morning, notwhen I was so tired I'd fall asleep reading her bedtime stories and she'd quietly pull the book out of my hands and tuckmein instead.
I release a heavy sigh, not realizing Colt's looking at me until I feel his arm slide around my shoulders, warm as he pulls me gently into his side.
"Hey," he says, giving me a squeeze. "You okay?"
"She deserves this," I whisper, mostly to myself. "She deservesallof this."
Cade jogs over next, still shirtless, still glistening like an oiled god and crouches down beside Samuel.
"Hi. I'm Cade." Morgan shakes his hand. "I think you might have been the loudest person in this entire arena tonight, which is ahugecompliment."
"I screamed your name," Morgan informs him solemnly.
"I felt it. Spiritually."
He digs into the pocket of his post-game pants and pulls out the puck. Thehat trick puck.The one I just watched him score the third goal with about twenty minutes ago.
"This is for you."
I shake my head, ready to tell Morgan she can't accept such a gift. But Colt holds me back, curling that big strong arm tighter around me.
"I just—" My voice catches as Morgan's entire face crumples. I try again. "I never could've given her this, Colt. I tried. Itried.But there was always—"
"I know," he murmurs, and his hand squeezes my shoulder. "I know, sweetheart."
"Look at her." It comes out wet. "Look at herface."
He pulls me a little tighter against him, his cheek brushing the top of my head. "Youdidgive her this, Zo. You got her here. Every step. That's all you."
"Oh good, the bakery contingent has arrived!"
Delaney appears in the doorway, Paige and Avery on either side of her, all three of them draped head to toe in purple attire. From sequined jerseys to glittery scarves to lipstick, it all screamswe've been cheering in The Velvet Prowl all night. There's a flush to their cheeks that shows the champagne cocktails are clearly still buzzing through their veins.
"There she is." Delaney winks at Morgan. "The famous Morgan Morrison. We've heard so much about you."
Morgan straightens, suddenly very aware that more women have arrived to bear witness to her new found fame.
"Hi. I'm Morgan. I have ahat trick puck."
"I see that. Very impressive." Delaney crouches next to her. "Hey. We were just talking. How would you feel about getting out on the ice?"
Morgan's mouth opens. "…The ice? Theactualice? Where theyplay?"
"Where they actually play." Delaney glances up at me with a smile that's all warmth and zero negotiation. "We've got someone bringing skates in your size. Avery wants to show you some moves."
