Chapter 26

Noelle

I stand here, staring at York as his words sink in, and I can’t believe what I’m hearing. He’s in love with me. He wants to be with me. My heart is pounding so hard in my chest, it feels like it might burst, and I can barely breathe. The world feels like it’s spinning, but all I can focus on is him—his eyes, his voice, the raw honesty in his words.

A tear slips down my cheek before I even realize it, and York reaches out, his thumb brushing it away with a tenderness that nearly undoes me. I bite my lip, trying to hold back the flood of emotions that’s threatening to overwhelm me.

“I love you,” I whisper, my voice shaky but sure. “I’ve loved you for so long, York.”

He smiles, and there’s a flicker of relief in his eyes, but before I can let myself get swept away in the moment, I shake my head, trying to process everything else he’s just said.

“You don’t need to retire,” I blurt out, my heart aching at the thought of him giving up the game he loves because of me. “You don’t have to give it all up for me. We can make this work. I know we can.”

But York just shakes his head, his expression soft but determined. “I’ve thought about this for a long time, Noelle. This isn’t just about us—it’s about me, too. I’m ready to be done. I want a life where I’m not always on the road, not always under the spotlight. And I want you to be part of that life.”

His words are like a balm to my soul, but part of me still struggles with the idea of him walking away from something he’s worked so hard for. “But you love hockey,” I say, my voice trembling. “You’ve worked your whole life for this. I don’t want you to give that up because of me.”

He steps closer, taking my hands in his, his touch grounding me, steadying me. “I love you more,” he says simply, his eyes locking onto mine, full of the kind of certainty I’ve only ever dreamed of. “And I don’t want to spend another day without you.”

I can’t hold it in anymore. “I love you too,” I whisper again, this time louder, more sure. The words feel like a release, like something I’ve been holding onto for far too long.

York leans down, his lips brushing mine in a kiss that feels like a promise, a new beginning, and I melt into him, my heart soaring.

But just as the moment stretches, the unmistakable sound of a camera shutter clicks behind us, snapping me out of the moment. I freeze, pulling back just enough to see a paparazzo standing a few feet away, his camera trained on us.

York curses under his breath, pulling me closer, shielding me with his body. But I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips.

Before either of us can make a scene, my father steps toward the man with the camera.

“That’ll be enough, George. I’ll be taking that photo of them.” My father crosses his arms over his chest. “Now.”

George stares at my father, not quite sure what to do. “Um, this photo will be worth a lot. You can buy it from me.”

My father leans forward, and I know he’s about to snap. Tell George where he can shove his photo, but before he can, York steps closer.

“No, Coach. It’s okay. Noelle and I don’t want to hide. We want the world to know we’re officially an item.”

The smile that lights up my father’s face like a decked out Christmas tree on the QVC channel is enough to make me smile too.

“Couldn’t ask for her to be with anybody better,” my father says, slapping a hand down on York’s shoulder.

I give my father a quick hug as George slinks away, most likely to sell off the photo. And for the first time in a long time, I’m proud to be in that picture.

I want everyone to know that. Yeah bitch, York’s mine .

The rest of the game feels like a blur, but this time, it’s the good kind. York is back. I can see it in the way he moves across the ice—confident, smooth, completely in control. He’s in his element again, and I can’t help but smile as I watch him. The weight that was pressing down on both of us has lifted, and I can see it reflected in every pass he makes, every stride he takes.

He’s alive out there, skating circles around the other team, and when he scores his first goal of the night, the crowd erupts in cheers. My heart swells with pride, and as he glides past my section, he looks up at me, his grin wide and full of life. Then, he does something that makes my heart flip—he shoots me a kiss, right there in front of everyone. I can’t help but laugh, the happiness bubbling up inside me, knowing this time, it’s not just for show. It’s real.

The rest of the game is a whirlwind of excitement. York scores again, and I can see his energy grow with every play. It’s like watching him become himself again, all the pieces falling back into place.

When the final buzzer sounds, signaling their victory, I leap to my feet, cheering with the rest of the crowd. York’s teammates slap him on the back as they head off the ice, but his eyes find mine in the stands, and I know exactly where he’s heading next.

I wait for him outside the locker room, my heart still racing from the game and from everything that’s happened between us tonight. I can’t stop smiling, can’t stop thinking about the fact that this is real now—we’re real.

It doesn’t take long before York steps out, still slightly damp from his post-game shower, his hair tousled in that effortlessly handsome way. His suit, pristine and perfectly tailored, radiates a polished sophistication. The second he sees me, his smile matches mine, and without a word, he pulls me into his arms.

We don’t need to say anything. The connection between us is stronger than ever, and as we walk out of the arena, hand in hand, everything feels right. We head back to his place together, the cold night air biting at our skin, but neither of us care. We’re happy, truly happy, and I know that no matter what happens next, we’ll figure it out together.