36. Sam

Sam

“Where the hell are you going, Braun?” Coach calls after me. I’ve already ripped my helmet off, and I’m on the bench, pulling at my laces.

Brett watches me, his mouth open, “They’re about to announce MVP.”

“I don’t care,” I say, sparing a moment to glance up at them. At the stunned, pissed look on Aldine’s face, I add, “Sorry.”

The moment I have the skates off my feet, I scramble for my bag, looking desperately under the bench for my shoes.

“Sammy,” someone says, and I turn to see Harper leaning over the wall, a bright smile on her face. At first, my chest tightens when I think that I might have to deal with this right now—when Finn is right there , in the box—but Harper holds my shoes out to me.

“Go get her,” she says, “I saw them leaving the box.”

I blink at her, wondering how she knows about me and Finn, but there’s no time to clarify. I grab the shoes from her, then pause for a moment, the words stuck in my throat.

“Harp, I—”

“Don’t waste time!” she says, waving her hands at me. “Go!”

Jolting, I laugh and shove my feet into the shoes, then through the tunnel and toward the locker rooms. The crowd is generally confused, watching me exit before they’ve even brought out the trophy, but I don’t care.

For the first time in my life, I don’t care about my performance. About how good I am. How great I am.

I know I did a great job. I left it all out on the rink tonight, and now I’m racing toward the thing that really matters.

When I round the corner, I nearly smash into a small woman wearing a Rangers jersey. I blink, realizing its Devon’s wife. Of course it is—she’s always wearing the wrong jersey. Apparently, it’s good luck.

“Lola,” I say, breathless. “Do you know—”

But Lola, looking giddy, just steps to the side, revealing Finn standing there, her lips slightly parted. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. Everything except her falls away.

“Finn,” I say, and everything floods into my brain at once—I’m sorry, I want to talk, I want to figure this out, I want you .

But she speaks first.

“Sam,” she says, voice quiet, so impossibly soft coming from this confident, brazen woman. “I’m pregnant.”

At first, I don’t process the information. It floats over my head, my brain still too overwhelmed with the simple fact of her, here , to digest it.

Then, all at once, it hits me.

“Finley ,” I say, her name coming out in a single breath. Stepping forward, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her into me, but not too tightly. “That is the best news I have ever gotten.”

“Sam, I—”

“I’m sorry,” I say, still hugging her to me, afraid of what might happen if I let her go.

She’s pregnant.

We’re going to be a family.

If she’ll have me…

“I love you,” I say, voice gruff. When I pull back from her, holding her at arm’s length so I can look at her face, there are tears on her cheeks. “I’ve been falling in love with you since the moment I first saw you. You’re so confident, and capable, and beautiful and impossible. I don’t care what I have to do to be in your life—to be your man. I’ll follow you back to California. I’ll build you a house with my bare hands. I don’t care about anything else, Finley Asher, I just want you.”

Lola lets out a little squeal at the other end of the hall, and Fallon pulls her away, shaking her head.

“Sam,” Finn says, laughing wetly and putting her hand on my forearm. “I want that, too. Not the house with your bare hands—we should hire contractors for that. Or find a nice, vintage—”

I don’t let her finish that sentence, because I’m scooping her back into my arms. I still don’t know what’s happening with my dad, and whether or not he’ll pull through. What decisions I might have to make.

But I have Finley. We can talk through things, work hard to build a future together. I might be losing my father, but I’m also gaining a new family. A baby with the woman I love.

“There’s a lot to talk about, Sam,” Finn says, “but I want to try. We can…we can figure it out.”

I’m about to kiss her when Brett bursts into the hallway, breathing hard. He smirks when he sees us. “Sorry to interrupt, but they’re about to give out the MVP trophy, and it’s going to be pretty hard to do that if the MVP isn’t there.”

I blink, hardly believing it. Me? The MVP? After how much I’ve fucked up this season, this series, this game?

“Go,” Finn says, pushing against my arm. She takes a step back, smiling at me. “I’ll see you after.”

“You will,” I promise, my gaze skipping down to her stomach, though of course there’s nothing there to see. “You will ,” I repeat, before Brett practically drags me back. As we skate back out onto the ice, the announcer’s voice booms through the stadium.

“Please direct your attention to the ice for the presentation of the Conn Smythe trophy to the most valuable player of the Stanley Cup playoffs!”

We join the rest of the guys standing on the ice. A few of them pat me on the back, and I grin, running a hand over my hair.

“First, I’d like to thank and congratulate the Rangers and Vipers on a great series. You guys have shown heart, dedication, and a love for hockey throughout the championship.”

Cheers rally throughout the arena.

“The winner this year has grown spectacularly this year, and has been no doubt the most valuable player during this championship face-off. The winner of the Conn Smythe is Samuel Braun!”

When they hand me the trophy, I see my dad sitting with me in the living room, watching the championship with me when I was a kid.

“That could be you someday, buddy,” he said, his big cheeks rosy as he gestured toward the TV. “All you have to do is put in the work.”

The trophy is heavier than I expected, the solid silver catching the big overhead lights above. The announcer is still listing off my stats, including my save percentage, shutouts, and my contribution to the historic comeback of tonight’s game.

They take the Conn Smythe trophy after a million pictures, and I start to skate back to the team, avoiding the clumps of confetti on the ice.

They’ve already presented the Stanley Cup—that’s what they were doing while I was in the hallway with Finn—but somehow Brett has it back out, and he hefts it up, handing it to me and saying, “Lift it high, MVP!”

When I do, laughing, I catch Finn’s gaze on me from the bench. My chest fills with the impossible light feeling of hope. Of a future we can look forward to, together.

Later, when we head to the press conference, I stop just to say one thing.

“I want to thank my team,” I say, “My family. My coach for figuring out what I needed to shine this season. My best friend and captain for always being there. And the most beautiful, intelligent woman in the world for getting me to this point, and putting the Conn Smythe in my hand.”

I turn to leave, then remember one last thing.

“Oh,” I say, clearing my throat and leaning down toward the microphone, trying to keep my voice steady. I look up, right into the cameras, hoping the nurses have this on. “And Dad, you were right—I did it. We did it. I love you, and thank you for always believing in me.”

When I turn, tears pricking at the backs of my eyes, Finn is there, folding me in her arms and rubbing her hand over my back. For the rest of my life, I’ll never stop being grateful for her. Recognizing how lucky I am to have a woman like her in my life, to be able to keep her. To have a family with her.

“Come on,” I say, clearing my throat and getting my hands on her waist, smiling at her as her eyes shine up at me. Slowly, I lean down and press a kiss against her lips. She leans into it, not caring about the million cameras flashing in the background.

Quietly, so only she can hear me, I pull back and whisper, “Let’s go home.”