38. Brett

Brett

" What ?" I ask, skating around and catching Devon's arm. It's almost impossible to hear anything with how wild the fans are going right now.

It's game seven of the Stanley Cup and taking place here in Burlington. The whole team is fired up, and I've hardly had a chance to see Fallon and June since the series started.

I glance up, eyes immediately finding Fallon and her roommates in the box above the rink. When she sees me looking, she raises June's little hand and waves it to me. I wave back, something in my chest ballooning like it always does when I look at the two of them.

This isn't my first time playing in the Stanley Cup—with Fallon's help, I was able to come back just in time to play in the championship last year. But this is my first time working with the team to get all the way through the season, instead of watching on the sideline.

"I said," Devon says now, pulling my attention back to him. He grabs my helmet, pulling my head close to his. "It's time to get that three-peat, baby."

Hollering, we all come together, slapping out sticks and riling the crowd up even further.

I can't help it—just moments before the face-off to start the game, I glance up at Fallon and June again. Her friends— my friends—are gathered around, each of them supporting me in their own way. Before the game, Randall had pulled me aside and said something ominous about being sure to win for his sake. I'd be lying if I said that wasn't strangely motivating.

Fallon is moving in this weekend.

Well, moving in again . While in the hospital with June, we had plenty of time to talk through our situation, and decided that it might be a good idea for us to date for a while before jumping right into living together.

Fallon went back to her place, and I went back to mine, but we got coffee every morning. She and June came over constantly, and after a month of dating with distance, we decided it made sense to move in together again.

"We don't have to hire movers," Fallon said, jerking her thumb in the general direction of her roommates. "They'll do it."

I hired movers, anyway, thinking that way we could wrap up the moving and head to Byte-Sized for celebratory pizza.

"Head in the game, Ratcliffe," Coach Grey says now, clapping me on the shoulder as we jump back out onto the ice, taking our places. The Colorado Avalanche line up across from us, and the guy who faces off against me is chewing on his mouth guard up until the last second, when he slips it back into his mouth, locks in, and readies his stick.

The puck flies across the ice. The Avalanche win the face-off and slide easily into our defensive zone. Sammy, Devon, and I interfere, but trust our defense to get the puck back to us.

Learning to trust my teammates, and not let my impulsivity control me, bringing me to the puck pre-maturely, has improved our cohesive play on the ice.

After June was released from the hospital, I returned to the final game of the playoff series with a new motivation. Fallon had just agreed to date me—to give our relationship another shot. And I wasn't going to kick that off with our team falling out of the running for the championship.

So I told Sammy and Devon that we didn't have a choice—we had to win. And we did.

Now, one of our defensemen sends the puck sliding back to me, and I snatch it up, taking off down the ice. Boucher—the Avalanche's huge defenseman, is right on my tail. I can practically feel him breathing down my neck, so I send the puck cross-ice to Devon, who rockets it to Sammy. Sammy shoots, but the goalie saves it at the last second.

The crowd lets out a collective breath when the puck returns to the other side of the rink, but our defense snatches it up and rockets it back. I catch it, and time slows as I weave through the Avalanche, looking for a good opportunity to get the puck to Sammy or Devon, who are setting up around the goal.

The Avalanche are back checking furiously, their sticks a never-ending obstacle to the goal. I can feel Sammy's eyes on me, his request for the puck, but something about it—the angle, the Avalanche's positioning—isn't right. My hand twitches to just say fuck it and send him the puck, but I won't. I'll wait and make sure we get a good pass.

With a sudden, intense burst of pain, a stick slashes across my arm, the crack of wood on flesh audible even with the roaring from the crowd. The fingers on my left-hand tingle, but I keep hold of my stick. There's no call from the ref, and I use the momentary pause from the anticipation of one to fake a pass to Sammy and rocket the puck to Devon, who receives it with the grace of a seasoned veteran.

Devon hits a gorgeous shot to Sammy, sending the puck behind the defenseman's back. The moment Sammy has the puck, he slaps it into the goal.

The sound of rubber hitting metal rings out through the rink, and for a moment, I think it's bounced out. Then the lights flash red, and the arena erupts.

Vipers get the first point.

Once again, I look up at Fallon, watching as she jumps up and down, hugging Chloe and Lola and Ellie up in the box. Joey is cheering loudly, his arm around Randall, and Cassidy is wearing a cheerleader's uniform. Even Ainsley is half-heartedly waving a little Vipers flag.

I turn back to the ice, preparing for the next face-off.

That's my family up there in the box, and I'm winning this championship for them.

"Alright," I say, clapping Devon on the shoulder, and giving him a solid nod before I line up for the face-off. "Three-peat time, baby!"

***

Fallon hasn't stopped giggling since the moment we stepped into the elevator together. Her arm is slung around my shoulders, her face bright and flushed.

"Fallon Ratcliffe," I say, still loving the way her name feels on my tongue. "Are you drunk?"

"No," she giggles. She turns, looping both arms around my neck and smiling up at me. Her hair is in loose curls, and she's wearing little hockey stick earrings.

"Like them?" she'd asked, when I stepped into the bathroom, watching her get ready this morning. "Lola got them for me."

"Of course she did." I step forward and kissing the side of her neck, my hands skimming over her sides, down to her waist. Now that I could have her whenever I wanted, I always wanted.

Now, the elevator door dings, startling her and making her jump.

"Are you sure?" I ask, laughing when she glances both ways, like the hallway is a street.

"Yes," she says, giving me a surprisingly sober glance. "I'm just feeling silly—I only had that one champagne at the first afterparty."

When I stop to try and scan my phone on the door, she slides between the door and me, pressing her chest to mine. My hand goes limp, and I lean down, scooping her up and pressing her to me.

She's mine . My wife, my family, my favorite girl.

We finally manage to get the door open and stumble inside. I pause for a moment, turning to pull the lock over the door, and when I turn back, Fallon has dropped her dress to the floor and is standing in the center of the room, completely naked.

The low light from the bathroom shines over her skin, and she tips her chin up at me, a smile curling at her lips.

"Come here," she whispers, and I do just that, surging toward her and wrapping my arms around her. Somehow—maybe through magic—she manages to undo my pants. Still holding her, I kick them away, lowering her down onto the bed.

Everything around me is her smooth, bare skin, and I stop caring about my clothes and what happens to them. I just need to touch her.

I trail my lips over her collarbone, biting there slightly and loving the way she writhes against me. Sucking lightly, I leave little spots on her chest, tightening my fingers on her when she gasps. I get her nipple in my mouth and scrape my teeth over it, obsessed and consumed by her reactions to me.

"I love you," she gasps, when I'm halfway down her body, lips moving over her hips.

"You always love me when I have my face between your legs," I murmur, before pushing her thighs apart with my palms and tasting her.

"Correction," she breathes, one hand tangling in my hair. "I always love you."

When she comes apart on my tongue, crying out into the luxurious hotel room, I slide back up her body, kissing as I go, but instead of kissing me back, she just works on the buttons to my shirt, breathing hard as she undoes them and pushes my shirt off over my shoulders. I drop it on the floor, relishing the feeling of being completely pressed together—all skin on skin.

Fallon twists beneath me, getting on her stomach. I pull her hair over one shoulder and kiss her neck, then the top of her shoulder, right where she has a single freckle.

"Beautiful," I murmur, my cock hard against her ass.

"You, too." Her eyes flutter shut when I push my hips against hers. I'm so hard for her I can feel it everywhere in my body, that delicious tenseness that I know is ready to come apart.

Reaching down, I position myself at her entrance, then let out a breath when I sink into her, her walls squeezing around me, her letting out a little cry into the pillow.

When I start to move, thrusting into her, she lifts her hips into me, rocking back, and I have to grit my teeth to keep from going too fast and too hard, the control making my body shake.

When she's pleading for me, little whimpers coming from her, I give her what she wants, pressing her down into the mattress and pumping hard, angling my hips so my cock can hit her g-spot, making her body shake. She buries her face in the pillow and lets out a scream, her hands tightening on the sheets.

I reach around and squeeze her tits, grunting as I finish, that final, body shaking relief making stars pop behind my eyes.

Gently, I pull out of her and position myself to her side, gathering her up onto my chest and stroking a hand over her hair.

"Congratulations," she murmurs a moment later, lifting her head and smiling at me. "You Stanley Cup champion, you."

"Thanks," I say, smile loose and wild, body and mind overwhelmed with how fortunate I am. I have everything I need—a beautiful, intelligent woman, a great team, two Stanley Cups, and my baby waiting for me when Fallon and I get back from our proper honeymoon.

"Are three-peats just a hockey thing?" Fallon asks, pulling me out of my thoughts. A smile dances over her face as I move toward her, scooping her into my arms and pinning her beneath me, already kissing her neck.

"There's only one way to find out."