Page 112 of Ice Queen

Sterling’s clock may be running, but right now, we just won the freaking Stanley Cup. She's safe and standing in the stands wearing my jersey, smiling at me like she can’t believe this is real life, either.

Everything else can wait a damn minute.

The door opens, and Hannah steps out first, then Lettie, then my sister, but Kait waits in the doorway looking all kinds of uncertain, like she’s not sure she belongs out here.

She does. God, she belongs anywhere I am. Well, maybe it’s me who belongs anywhere she is, because I can’t imagine spending a single second of my life without her.

I skate over and offer her my hand. She takes it, and when her feet hit the ice, a small shriek escapes before she finds her footing and settles into my hold.

“Hi.” Her voice breaks, tears already falling, wobbly smile and all. “You did it!”

Thirteen years. Thirteen years of convincing myself I didn’t deserve this, any of it. The cup. This team. A woman who pulled me out of the dark.

“We did,” I mumble, because she’s been in this fight too. Even if she isn’t aware of the full extent. I brush a piece of her hair behind her ear, slow enough to allow myself to really feel her. Her skin is warm, and she leans into my hand just slightly.

Then her gaze moves past my shoulder, and her fingers tighten against my forearms. I already know who she’s looking at before I even turn. Sterling, glowering from twenty feet away, watching what he can never have again.

Her words from earlier echo through my head. He can’t have this.

I take her chin gently between my fingers, the same way I did in front of Tattered Pages all those months ago. I wait until her eyes come back to mine.

“Don’t look at him.” My voice comes out more gravely than I intend. “Look at me.”

I lean down, pressing my lips to her in front of everyone. My teammates, my parents, the cameras, every person watching from a bar stool or a couch, hell, from the moon. I don’t care.

I want them to know that I am undoubtedly hers.

“I love you,” I breathe against her mouth. Then I kiss her again because I’ve been waiting all day to say that out loud, in public, so there’s no doubt in her mind.

She makes the softest sound against my lips, her fists curling into the front of my jersey, and the world narrows until it’s just her and I. The height difference on a normal day is hot as hell, but the added three inches from my skates is putting a crick in my neck. I grab behind her thighs and lift until her legs wrap around my waist, and she’s eye level with me, laughing through her tears now.

I take a second to just look at her. The single freckle under her eye. The amber in her irises catches the arena light just right, so it looks like there’s glitter in them. Her hair falling in perfect waves around her face, signature black biker boots crossed at my back. She came here for me, got the surprise of her lifetime, and held her ground. She didn’t break. She didn’t need to be saved.

Now, she’s here on the ice with her arms wrapped around my neck, and the only thing I can think is that Millie told me to follow the stars.

I did, and I hold my entire universe in my arms.

I’m the luckiest man on the planet.

Champagne is flying everywhere. The guys are hollering, jumping up and down with the music up loud enough for us to all have ringing ears for the next week. I’ve gotten all the gear off my upper body, but my lower body is still covered as Monroe jumps into me.

“Brothers in looooveee!” he sings.

I don’t even attempt to deny it, which makes him gasp and put his hands on his cheeks. “You really are! Oh, this is the best day ever!”

He hops over to Wilder, grabbing his shoulder and turning him toward me. “Sammy’s part of the helplessly in love, but don’t help us because we like it here, club now.”

Wilder’s eyes widen, looking between Monroe and me. “That’s a club? When did it become a club?”

Monroe points to the floor. “Right now.”

“Whatever, dude,” I say, laughing my way to the bench to take off the rest of my gear. Shower and Kait. I need to figure out what’s going on. Sterling still lingers in the corner of the room, sticking out like a sore thumb because he’s the only one not celebrating.

Whatever.

The second I’m out of the shower, I pull on my dark blue jeans. I barely have the button fastened when my phone lights up. Fourteen missed texts? Shit.

My eyes scan the room for Sterling, and he’s nowhere to be found.