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The buzzer sounds.

Chicago loses.

Beside me, Aleks and Lenzin exchange a look. Neither says anything, but I know they saw this result coming the moment New Jersey took the lead.

Lucy turns to me, her lower lip trembling. "Uncle Fancy lost."

"He did."

"But he played really good."

"He did," I tell her. "He played beautifully."

"They should let him win; it’s his golden birthday.” She pouts.

"He wouldn’t have been any happier with a win like that than a loss."

She considers this, then nods with the serious acceptance of someone who has spent her entire life around hockey players. "Uncle Fancy is still the best."

"He is."

On the ice, the Phoenixes line up for the handshake. Rez moves through it with controlled professionalism, his frustration visible but contained. When he skates toward the tunnel, he doesn't look up at the stands.

The family area fills with tired players and waiting partners. I stand with the group, watching the entrance where the Chicago players will emerge, and try to settle the nervous energy humming through my body.

Aleks and Lenzin are debating dinner options. Somewhere close, somewhere with enough space for all of us, somewhere Lucy won't get bored before the food arrives. Their voices blur into background noise. I hear the words without processing them.

Hildy keeps Lucy close, one hand resting on her shoulder to prevent her from launching herself at every player who walks past. Lucy strains toward each one, clearly hoping to spot Rez among them.

"Not yet, sweetheart," Hildy tells her.

"But he could be coming."

"He'll find us when he's ready."

I remind myself that Rez has just lost a game on his birthday. He's frustrated, disappointed, and probably running through every moment he wishes had gone differently. I want to celebrate him tonight, but I can't expect him to forget the loss the moment he sees me. He cares too much about the game for that, and I love that about him even when I wish I could spare him the disappointment.

Jax emerges first, followed by Lincoln, Hayes, Cruz, and Eli. Their expressions carry the weight of the loss, tight jaws and quiet conversations, the kind of controlled frustration that belongs to men who expected more from themselves. Hayes claps Lincoln on the shoulder and says something I can't hear. Lincoln nods without smiling.

The Brooklyn players greet them with familiar banter. Aleks offers Hayes a handshake that turns into a brief shoulder bump. Lenzin exchanges words with Jax, something about the third period that makes Jax shake his head ruefully.

The rivalry doesn't disappear, but this isn't the ice. Tonight, we're all here for the same reason.

Gabe appears a few minutes later, freshly showered and dressed, his hair still damp. He scans the group, registers the Brooklyn contingent, and then spots me and gives me a hug. “I’m glad you came.”

"How is he?" I ask.

Gabe's grin fades a little. "Frustrated.” He glances toward the corridor leading from the locker room. "But seeing you? That's going to help."

I nod, though the knot in my stomach doesn't loosen. I know Rez will be happy to see me. I'm less certain how he'll take the news I still have to give him.

The teammates make room without turning my presence into a production. I appreciate the subtlety more than I can say.

Then Rez appears.

He's showered and changed, his hair pushed back, his bag slung over one shoulder. The frustration is still there, in the tension of his shoulders and the set of his jaw, his expression carrying the weight of the game he wishes had ended differently.

He sees Gabe first. Then the Brooklyn crew. Then me. He stops.