At the bottom of the second period, New York scores, giving them the advantage going into the final period. I watch Ethan and his coach strategizing before he returns to the ice.

I fidget with the bracelet around my wrist, fingering the hockey stick charm, saying a little prayer to the hockey gods. Minnesota gains control of the puck at the beginning of the third period, and the team captain scores another goal, with Ethan managing the assist. We’re on the edge of our seats, quite literally, the score tied, and no shots get past the net on either side.

It’s beginning to look like the game is headed for overtime until Ethan commandeers the puck with only minutes left on the clock. He’s lightning fast as he glides down the ice, maneuvering around the opposition, keeping the puck close. Skating around the back of the net, he shoots on the way up the rink, sneaking the puck past the goalie. We’re all out of our seats, along with the mass of Minnesota fans; the screams of excitement send a shiver down my spine. New York scrambles for the puck, but Minnesota keeps it out of their reach as the seconds tick down and the final buzzer sounds. The roar of the crowd is deafening as Minnesota streams onto the ice, high on the win.

I’m riding the same wave as everyone else as Minnesota players pass the cup while they skate the rink, celebrating this monumental win.

The game is long over before we finally make our way out of the stadium and head out to celebrate with the team. The wall of flat screens shows game highlights and interviews. Ethan’s smiling, sweaty face pops up at the same time an arm slips around my waist and warm lips brush my ear. “Took you long enough to get here.”

I turn to face him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I had to fight through your throng of fans.”

“You need to start taking advantage of the fact that you’re my girlfriend and throw your special pass around more.” He dips his head, lips meeting mine in a gentle, sweet kiss.

“You did it,” I say against his warm mouth. He tastes faintly of bourbon. “You brought the Cup home.”

He leans back far enough to meet my gaze. His smile is radiant. The only other time I’ve seen him this happy was when he was drafted. “Well, I can’t take all the credit. I have a whole pile of teammates who were in on it, too.”

“But you scored the winning goal.”

“I’m planning on scoring a lot of those later when we’re celebrating alone.”

I wrinkle my nose and poke him in the chest. “Leave it to you to ruin a moment by turning it into a sexual innuendo.”

“I’m not ruining the moment.” He holds me tighter when I try to push away. “Do you know what the best part of winning the Cup is?”

I try not to smile, certain he’s going to throw another dirty quip at me. He’s half in the bag, I think, despite only having been at the bar for maybe half an hour. “What’s that?”

“That you’re here to share it with me.”

epilogue

TRADES

Lilah

Merk’s ears perk up and he gives his customary single-bark greeting, alerting me to Ethan’s arrival.

I sit up in a rush, dropping my book on the wet patio, not caring that I’ve lost my place or that the pages will be wavy with water damage. I wasn’t actually focused on anything I was reading. Ethan is finally home from an all-day meeting with his agent to talk trades. Until forty minutes ago, I was at work. I didn’t call or text for information. I want to be face-to-face with him when I find out what next season is going to look like for him, for us.

He smiles and takes off his sunglasses. “Anxious, baby?”

“Immensely.”

He straddles the lounge chair I’m half sitting in, slips his hands under my knees, and adjusts my legs to drape over his so we’re facing each other.

I slap his left hand when it slides up too high on my thigh.

“Ethan! Do not play this game with me. Tell me what the trade options are.”

“We have three.”

We. Not he. We. This has been the mantra in my head all day. Whatever happens, wherever he goes, I go, too. If we have to start over, we do it together.

I take a deep breath. “Okay. Give ’em to me.”

“Edmonton offered six million for one year.”

“Canada?” I like maple syrup, so I guess that could work for a year, but it means I’ll have to either postpone my master’s or look into programs out there, which is a little unfortunate considering I just received my acceptance letter to Minnesota last week. I have no idea if my nursing degree is accepted in Canada. It’s something we’ll figure out if that’s where we end up. Or I wait one more year. Either way, doable.

He gives me a cheeky grin. “It’s a nice place. The people are friendly up there.”

“Isn’t it a lot colder than here?” Minnesota winters are cold, but I’m pretty sure they don’t need freezers up there from November to April.

“Cold means lots of cuddling, and that’s only option one.”

“Okay, I like cuddling. What’s option two?”

“Nashville offered four million a year for three years.”

I try to temper my sigh of relief. That should take Edmonton out of the running. Nashville might be far away from Minnesota, but at least my eyelashes won’t get frostbite.