CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Dom winced as the foam roller dug into his tight quad. The team had come in for video review and work with the trainers in anticipation of the final game the day after tomorrow.

They'd won the game at home last night, and were tied 3-3 in the series.

The locker room had mostly cleared out by now but Dom had lingered over his stretches and rolling out his sore muscles. Not that he wasn't eager to get home to Shea, but he was sore everywhere and honestly, at this point, he barely had the energy to get up off the floor.

With a loud crack, the door to the gym banged open, and Dom slipped off the foam roller onto the soft mat.

He looked up to see a pissed-off Colton stalking toward him.

"You're a fucking dick, Olson," Colton seethed.

"Excuse me?" Dom said, squinting, confused by the sudden hostility. "What are you talking about, Yates?"

Colton crossed his arms. "I said you're a fucking dick, Olson. I can't believe you asked Birdie to betray her friend that way."

"Wait, I think you misunderstood," Dom said, sitting up. Huh, apparently, he could get up. At least partway.

"You asked her to look into Mitchell as the leak, yeah?" Colton said, glaring.

"Essentially. I mean, I think we both hoped she'd find out he wasn't involved but …"

"Well, she called me crying after they had lunch today. She's convinced he's guilty. I can't believe you put her in a position like that."

Dom sighed. "Maybe you're right. I just … I was hoping we could deal with this quietly instead of it turning into a huge scandal."

"Oh, and too bad if it breaks Birdie's heart?" he asked bitterly.

"No! I don't want to break her heart!" Dom protested. "I just thought—"

Dom shook his head, wanting to approach this from a different angle. "Look, Colton, I like Birdie and I never meant to hurt her. She approached me about the Mitchell situation first and we discussed the idea of her looking into it. If she's this upset about it though, we'll call it off. We'll find another way. I'm sorry I got her involved. Please apologize to her and the next time I see her I'll apologize to her face as well—"

"No, fuck your apology," Colton spat. "I always knew you were jealous of me, Olson but making my partner cry is a new low, even for you."

"No, damn it," Dom protested, scrambling to his feet, his thighs protesting. "You've got this all wrong, man."

"Save it, Olson. I'm tired of your bullshit." Colton stormed out of the room before Dom could reply.

He stood there a moment, mouth gaping open, before he picked up a medicine ball and threw it across the room. It hit with a loud smack before bouncing back and Dom had to duck to avoid getting nailed.

He slumped onto the weight bench. Damn. He'd really fucked that one up, hadn't he?

Shea leaned forward, watching as Dom played like a man possessed.

He'd been in a horrible mood when he came home two days ago, morose and snappish at first until he collapsed into Shea's arms and told him what happened.

Shea had suggested he give Colton a little time to cool off, then apologize to him and Birdie.

But if he had, it hadn't worked.

Shea had flown to LA with the other SAPs, and now sat close enough to see the guys on the bench. Colton hadn't once looked Dom in the face. For two periods, he'd looked past Dom like he didn't even exist. And his play had been a mess.

But Shea was proud of Dom for playing so disciplined, despite the rift with his teammate and the worry over who had caused the leak.

Dom's playing was a fraction of what he'd been capable of ten years ago. He wasn't notching goal after goal or dazzling the defense to slam one home.

But he was doing everything right. His passes were crisp, he was always in position, and he was doing exactly what the team needed.

He was setting up his teammates for great chances and winning puck battles and faceoffs.

He was dialed-in in a way that wasn't flashy, might slip by a more casual fan. But Shea could see it.

And when Dom finally got an assist on a goal by Jordan, Shea was there, screaming his head off in the stands along with all of the other Fisher Cats fans.

"Fucking listen to me, Colton," Dom said urgently, his gloved hand on Colton's chest as they waited in the hallway to go out for the third period.

They were down 3-2 and they'd just gotten screamed at by Gilly in the locker room after nearly forty minutes of getting screamed at on the bench.

If something didn't change, they were fucked.

Dom continued, speaking in a low but insistent voice. "You can be pissed at me all you want. After this series is over, you can punch me in the face if it'll make you feel better. I'll apologize to you and to Birdie as many times as it takes for you to believe me. I'll fucking grovel if you need. But don't let your pride get in the way of this team winning."

Colton glanced over, looking him in the eye for the first time. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you're pissed at me right now and you're playing distracted. I get it. I've been there. But this is not the time for it."

"I've already got one goal tonight!" Colton protested. "How many points have you gotten, old man?"

He spat the last part like an insult but Dom couldn't let it get under his skin.

"One. On an assist. We both know I'm not the one carrying this team anymore. You are. You're a damn good player and you have it in you to be a leader in the future."

Colton blinked. "You think so?"

"I do," Dom said, and he meant every word of it. "This isn't coming from jealousy. I want you to succeed. For your sake, for the team's sake. I think you have the potential to be a better player than I was. But right now, you're playing sloppy. You're not forechecking, you've had two turnovers on the power play, and your shots are going wide more often than not. Is that the kind of play we need from you right now?"

"No." Colton slumped, the fight going out of him. "And I'm sorry. I … I think I've been stressed about the playoffs and I took it out on you."

"Okay. I get that. You're forgiven. Now, take a couple of deep breaths and get your head out of your ass. What are you going to do when you go out there?"

Colton squared his shoulders, breathing deeply. "I'm gonna forecheck, I'm gonna clean up my turnovers, and I'm gonna dial in my shots."

"Good." Dom let out a sigh of relief. "That's what I want to hear."

Colton searched his face. "You mean it?"

"Mean what?" Dom asked, not sure which part he was referring to.

"That I could be better than you someday."

"Absolutely. Colton, you're a hell of a player. You have so much fucking potential it's scary. Don't blow it tonight because you're pissed at me or stressed about your performance or any of that bullshit swirling around," Dom said earnestly. "You have the skills. No one doubts that. But what we need from you tonight is to get your head right. At this point, winning is all up here."

He tapped Colton's helmet with his gloves, then bumped the front of their helmets together. "Get your head in the game and we can win this."

"I've got this," Colton said, nodding.

"Good." Dom stepped back, watching him get in line with the other guys who had been shooting them curious looks but not interfering. He spotted Gilly standing nearby, eyebrows raised in question.

"What was that about?" Gilly asked as Dom lined up to go out on the ice again.

"Just a little pep talk." Dom grinned. "Colton's gonna bring this one home for us."

One of LA's players ripped a shot toward Toronto's net.

Makarov batted it away and the home crowd roared as Nico recovered it, skating it toward LA's end of the ice.

"Come on, come on," Shea whispered, holding his breath as Nico passed it to Colton. He swerved around two of LAs defensemen, so fast they barely had time to respond. He fired a shot at the goal, aiming for the spot under the goalie's glove and Shea held his breath …

The puck pinged off the post, going wide, and Shea swore, seeing the frustration echoed in Yates' posture as he slapped his stick against the boards.

He'd been playing better since the second intermission but his shots still weren't connecting.

With Jensen out with a knee injury and Fowler playing but not up to his usual skills because of an ankle sprain, the team didn't have their usual level of offense.

If Colton couldn't do it, who else could?

Shea would love to believe that Dom would pull out a miraculous win but he was struggling too. Bruised and banged up and, quite frankly, exhausted.

"I forgot how fucking stressful this is now that I have skin in the game," Shea muttered a few minutes later as the players and linesman set up for the next faceoff.

He glanced over at August. "You've gotta be feeling it, right?"

"Oh absolutely," August said. "Although nothing will ever be as bad as watching Nico have a seizure, so … even playoff hockey feels pretty relaxing compared to that."

Behind him, Charlie patted his shoulder. "I get it, Shea."

"Thank you!" Shea said. Fuck . This was torture.

Shea's blunt nails bit half-moons into his palms as the seconds for the period ticked down. He held his breath every time a Fisher Cats player got hit or they took a shot.

He watched, frowning, as Colton banged the bench door shut in frustration after another missed attempt. Dom reached out to him, gripping the front of his jersey and shouting something.

Colton froze. He seemed confused, shaking his head and gesturing toward the net but Dom insisted, shaking him. Colton nodded and they both sat, watching the next few shifts.

When it was Dom's turn, he set up a nice chance for one of his linemates, but that didn't go in either.

Then Colton was out again with less than a minute left on the clock and Shea held his breath, hands clasped together so hard his knuckles ached while he watched him tear up the ice with a puck.

"Do it, do it, do it." Shea muttered.

At the last second, Colton swerved, shooting above the goaltender's blocker and Shea's mouth dropped open as the goalie dove in the other direction and the puck went sailing in.

A clean, perfect goal.

The light went on, the arena erupting with noise from the horn, boos from LA's fans and the deafening sound of cheers from Toronto's, the guys on the bench shouting and banging their sticks against the boards as Colton sailed by, beaming.

The score was tied.

On his feet, throat hoarse from screaming, Shea couldn't stop smiling.

Play resumed and, fully expecting the game to go into overtime, Shea turned to say something to August when Charlie shouted, smacking his shoulder.

Shea whipped his head around and watched Nico slip a wraparound goal into the net, going to one knee in a showy, dramatic celly as the horn sounded again.

Eyes wet, Shea hugged August and Charlie, grabbing at anyone around him he could get his hands on.

With seconds to go, the players lined up for another faceoff, Dom bent low, ready to win it.

He did, shooting it to one of the Fisher Cats' defensemen but there were only a few seconds left on the clock …

The game horn sounded and the building shook with the crowd's reactions.

"We fucking did it," Charlie screamed in his ear but Shea's eyes had gone watery again when he watched Dom throw himself into Matty's arms, Matty lifting him up off the ice and shaking him.

Nico and Dustin and all of the rest of the guys collided into them, hugging them tightly.

Gloves landed on the ice as Felix and Jonah smashed into each other, holding each other tightly and then more guys streamed over, tearing off their helmets, throwing their sticks, roaring with happiness as they celebrated.

Shea wiped his face, watching Dom break away from the crowd and crash into Colton, nearly knocking him down.

He could see the sheer, raw emotion on Dom's face as Colton hugged him back, looking stunned as he shouted something.

A moment later, Dom glanced up, touching his forehead and Shea pressed a hand to his chest because that was their signal.

Shea wouldn't have cared if Dom had forgotten about him. Not in this moment. This moment was for Dom and his team and there would be plenty of time later for Shea and Dom to celebrate together.

But Dom had remembered. He'd remembered and he'd thought of Shea and goddam, Shea had never loved him more.

Not because Dom was a three-time Stanley Cup winner.

But because—

"C'mon," Charlie shouted, grabbing his hand. "We need to get down there and kiss our men."

Shea smiled, letting himself be tugged along.

There were so many reasons he loved Dom and he had a whole lifetime to tell him that.

Tonight, he wanted to celebrate the win.

A huge smile broke over Dustin's face as Dom skated up to him. "I want you to go second."

"Yeah?" Dom asked. "I mean, Matty's an alternate too, and—"

Dustin gripped his shoulder. "We know what you did for Colton, for the team."

Dom shrugged. "I didn't do that much."

But Dustin looked him in the eye. "You deserve it," he said firmly.

So Dom nodded, skating over to Matty and putting an arm around him.

Looking back, Dom would only remember bits and pieces of what came after that.

He remembered hoisting the Cup. He remembered the rush that went through him when he held it aloft, skating around the rink for his victory lap.

Collapsing onto the ice, Dustin behind him, Matty on his right, the Cup pressed against his thigh with Jordan on the other side as they posed for team photos.

The back-slapping hug from Gilly, and the murmured, "we're going to miss you on the ice next season."

Shaking hands and hugging people and the sight of Shea standing with the SAPs, beaming proudly.

Dom's head was still spinning when he finally spotted Shea picking his way carefully across the ice to get to him.

He looked happy and like he'd been crying and Dom was pretty sure his face was a little wet too.

Especially after Colton's hug.

"You fucking did it."

Dom threw his arms around Shea, needing him close. "We did it," Dom said thickly.

Shea drew back, reaching up to brush his thumb across Dom's jaw. "What did you say to Colton? You told him something on the bench."

Dom laughed. Of course Shea had noticed. "I told him—I told him to stop going for low glove and try high blocker. He'd been shooting low glove all series and he's good enough he can get away with it most of the time but LA's goalie is too good. Too dialed in. So I told Colton to switch it up. I wasn't sure if he'd listen but he did and, fuck, it worked."

Dom laughed again, feeling giddy.

"It worked, baby," Shea said, and the look in his eyes made Dom lean forward and press a kiss to his jaw, despite the cameras everywhere.

He buried his head against Shea's neck and held on a moment, knowing he was gross and disgusting and grateful that Shea wouldn't care.

"I can't believe it ended like this," he whispered after a moment, lifting his head to look Shea in the eye again. "I thought … I was prepared if we lost. I would have been happy if I'd ended my career on a game seven loss in the Final but this is … it's fucking unbelievable."

"You guys deserved it," Shea said fiercely. "You played so fucking hard."

Dom glanced around, dazed as he watched his teammates celebrating with the people they loved.

"Good thing too," he said, looking at Shea again. "Or I was never going to get a chance to meet your family."

Laughing, Shea pressed a kiss to his forehead. "God, I love you."

Dom let out a shuddering sigh. "I love you too. Christ, Shea …"

"I know." Shea stepped back, trailing a hand down Dom's arm and gripping his fingers before he let go. "I know. But there's time for that later. Go … you should be with your team right now. Enjoy every last second of it."

"Thank you," Dom whispered, still half in disbelief that this was happening.

He took one last look at Shea, beaming proudly, wanting to burn it into his memory before he skated to join his teammates.

Yet later, as guys left the ice, being herded toward the visitors' dressing room where they'd be showered in beer and Champagne, Dom hesitated.

Lingering by the door, he bent and pressed his lips to the ice, emotion spilling over and nearly choking him as it hit him that he'd never step on the ice as a player again.

But it wasn't sadness he felt. How could he be sad with the embarrassment of riches in his life?

He'd accomplished all of his dreams—more than he'd ever imagined. He had three Stanley Cups and more individual trophies and medals than he knew what to do with.

He had a man he loved and a future to look forward to.

He had a shot at getting to know his family again and a team who meant everything to him.

Thank you , Dom whispered silently, hoping the hockey gods could hear him. Thank you for another chance to get it right. Thank you for everything you've given me.