It was my first hat trick in the NHL.
They flew from the rafters and from behind the glass, too. Some fans even threw their stuffed animal fishes, a signal to the other team that even though there were minutes left to play, our fans were sure we’d win. It was all we could do to sidestep the toys and the hats as we celebrated.
But I smiled the more they rained down, because that meant more to clean up.
And that meant play would stop.
Breaking out of the huddle of my teammates, I made a beeline for the bench as the crowd roared their thunderous approval. I dodged hats every step of the way, my eyes locked on Maven, who was still jumping and screaming and celebrating, too.
I jumped the boards with my teammates still on the bench clapping me on the shoulders, but I shoved past them, past coach, past the trainers and everyone else. I dropped my stick and ripped off my helmet just in time to slide up in front of Maven.
“I’ll take that,” I said, swiping the hat off her head. I placed it backward on my own, and then I swept her into my arms and kissed her.
It was the deepest breath I’d taken in days, my lungs filling themselves greedily as I held my lips to hers. Maven threaded her arms around my neck, holding me to her as if I was ever letting go now, and the crowd grew to a decibel that could permanently damage ear drums. I fisted my hands in her jersey, kissing her deeper, my heart slowly melding back together.
I was whole again.
“You’re here,” I whispered against her lips, breaking the kiss only long enough to say them before I was claiming her again.
“I’m here.” She gripped my damp hair in her hands, pressing her forehead to mine. “I’m so sorry, Vince. I’m sorry I ran. I’m sorry I’m like this.”
“Stop.” I shook my head, kissing her silent. “It’s not your fault. And for the record, I still want to murder that piece of shit for making you feel this way.”
“Don’t worry, I beat you to it.”
I cocked a brow, pulling back to look down at her. “You killed him? Shit,” I said, looking around and holding her head to my chest. “Maybe we shouldn’t pull stunts that will have you all over national television right now.”
She laughed against my chest, swatting at it before her glossy eyes were peering up at me. “I killed the hold he still had on me,” she said. “I killed the fear.”
“I’m a little scared, too, you know.”
“Wrap it up, Tanev!” I heard Coach yell, and I didn’t turn around, but I guessed they were close to done with the hat cleanup on the ice. I also didn’t have to glance up to know that every phone in that arena was pointed right at where I held Maven, where she held me.
“You?” She laughed. “Why?”
“Because I’ve never felt this way for anyone,” I confessed, thumbing her jaw. “I’ve been fucking sick, Mave. I’ve been numb. You see these marks?” I asked her, gripping the clay-covered spots of her jersey. “This is how you’ve stained me. You’re everywhere. Do you know how terrifying it is that you have that much power over me, that without you, not even hockey makes me feel alive?”
“I do. I do know what that feels like. That’s the whole reason I ran.” She swallowed. “What if we fuck it all up?”
“We won’t.”
“What if we do?”
I shrugged. “Well, then I guess there’s no one I’d rather let ruin me for anyone else.” I framed her face in my hands, thumbing away a tear when it slid down her cheek. “Give me your heart.”
“It’s already yours,” she said, climbing me, crushing me to her. “Please, don’t break it.”
“Never,” I promised.
I kissed her again to another chorus of whistles and cheers from the crowd, both of us inhaling the other and holding on for dear life. I could have stayed there forever.
But there were still three minutes left to play.
“NOW, FORTY-ONE,” Coach said, and the sternness in his voice told me that — hat trick or not — my ass was going to be grass if I didn’t comply.
“Go,” Maven told me, pushing against my chest.
“That was for you, by the way,” I said, pulling the hat off my head and tugging it down on hers again. I backed up with a wink as she shook her head at me, and then someone handed me my helmet and my stick, and I joined my teammates on the bench just in time for the puck to drop.
Coach stared at me like he was going to end my life, but then he smirked, shaking his head before folding his arms over his chest as he turned his attention to the ice. I knew I’d be paying for my stunt, but every drill, every lap, every minute of pain would be worth it.
My knees bounced, eyes on the ice but focus completely obliterated now. I just needed my team to hold for a few more minutes. I needed this game to be over.
I needed Maven back in my arms, in my bed.
Coach called for a line change with sixty seconds left, just as our opponents pulled their goalie. It was all hands on deck to defend against them. Will batted every shot attempt away, and the rest of us served as a first and second line of defense, doing everything we could to hold the score.
And we did.
They tried with their last shred of desperation to hit us at the final buzzer, but Daddy P dropped his knees together and covered the puck with his glove.
And that was it.
We won.
I swept Maven back into my arms the moment the final buzzer sounded.
Kaleidoscope
Maven
I could stare at that man’s hands for the rest of my life, and it would still not be long enough.
Those hands, the ones that scored three goals tonight, the ones that held me to him in a crowd of twenty-thousand people, the ones that turned clay into art, that transformed me from hard and guarded to soft and surrendering — they were a drug.
And right now, those hands were holding a photo of me and Livia after her graduation from dental school, his thumb smoothing over the glass as a wide smile spread on his lips.
“I bet you two were hell on wheels,” he said.
“Still are.”
He chuckled, his head bobbing side to side like he knew that all too well. When he set the photograph down, he tucked his hands into his pockets and kept walking, taking in the surroundings.
It was the first time I’d had him in my home, and it felt almost more intimate than when I had him inside me. I stood at the door with my keys clutched in my hands, nervously fidgeting with the rings as I watched him.
My phone was in my pocket, buzzing like crazy with notifications I wasn’t sure I’d want to see. After what happened at the arena, I could only imagine how we were blowing up. Strangers had been making assumptions about us for months, ever since that night Vince posted the photo of us in Baltimore. Now, they had those assumptions proven right.
The only texts I’d read were the ones from my parents, Livia, and my bosses.
Mom was excited, though still a bit wary — which was fair, all things considered.
Dad was demanding a full background check and a one-on-one talk with Vince. Poor guy.
Livia popped a bottle of champagne and sent me a video of her sipping the bubblies in my honor.
And Reya and Camilla sent so many emojis, my phone nearly broke trying to process them all. They were excited, to say the least, and the last text I saw from Camilla stated that Vince and I were all over the Internet.