Page 153 of Uncoachable

I barely get two steps inside before Cash tackles me again in a hug that smells like sweat and victory.

“CALLIE, YOU BEAUTIFUL LEGEND!” he shouts directly into my ear.

“Finn—air—” I choke out, laughing.

He ignores me completely, shaking me like a rag doll. “WE DID IT! I’M GONNA FRAME YOUR FACE!”

Ivy smacks him with a damp towel. “Let him breathe, you lunatic.”

Marcus hands me a bottle of champagne like it’s a sacred artifact. “You earned this, Cap.”

I pop it, the foam erupting over my hands and onto the floor.

The room erupts with it.

Brick pours champagne over his own head like a baptism. Nico is spraying the ceiling, and someone is blasting music loud enough to shake the walls.

Iveline stands just inside the doorway, watching the chaos with a stunned, soft smile. Her hair is damp from the ice, her cheeks flushed a deep pink, her eyes bright and watering.

Cash spots her and screams, “IVY! GET IN HERE!”

Before she can protest, he grabs her wrist and drags her into the center of the room. Champagne hits her from three directions. She shrieks, laughing, trying to shield her face with her arms as the team surrounds her.

“Cash!” she yells. “I swear to God, you’re doing extra sprints for this!”

“WORTH IT!” he cackles, sprinting away before she can catch him.

I cross the room in three strides, my heavy skates clacking on the wet floor. She turns toward me, soaked, glowing, and breathless.

“You look ridiculous,” she says, smiling so wide it looks like it hurts.

“You look perfect,” I shoot back.

I don’t give her a chance to respond. I pull her in and kiss her again. The room erupts again, a chorus of whistles and cheers louder than the arena.

“OH MY GOD, THEY’RE DOING IT AGAIN!” Cash screams.

There’s a chorus of: “Shut up, Cash.”

I break the kiss only because we’re both laughing too hard to continue.

“You lifted the Cup with me, Callahan.”

“Of course I did.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I did,” I say simply, my voice dropping. “Because you’re part of this victory. You’re part of us. You’re part of me.”

Her eyes soften in a way that makes my knees weak, a look of pure, unguarded vulnerability. But before she can respond, Nico climbs onto a training bench and starts banging a stick against a metal bin.

“ALRIGHT, LISTEN UP! CAPTAIN! SPEECH!”

I groan, burying my face in Ivy’s shoulder for a second, but the team won’t let me out of it. I step forward, dripping champagne, and look at my brothers—the men I’ve fought with for years. Then I look at Ivy, who is watching me with a fierce, steady pride that makes me feel ten feet tall.

I clear my throat, the room falling into a respectful, heavy silence.

“This season… was hell.”