Page 146

Quinn blushes, and Beck narrows his gaze at my goalie.

“I’m coming, Brady!” I say.

“Hopefully not in your pants.” He chuckles as he skates back to his position.

I huff a laugh despite myself and lock eyes with Quinn and Beck again. “I love you both!”

“We know.” Beck points to the jumbotron, which is showing our faces. “The whole world knows now.”

“Good.”

“Come on, Ashcroft,” the ref yells beside me again. “Either play or get off the ice!”

“I’d better go win this game now, huh?” I say to the two people who matter most to me.

“Do your best,” Beck says. “We’re celebrating no matter what.”

“I second that,” Quinn chirps. “Now, go kick some ass, baby. Show them what happens when they play against the new and improved Noah Ashcroft.”

“Yes, Quinn.” I wink at her. Beck’s laughter fades as I skate backward, blowing a farewell kiss to them.

The crowd’s boos transform into cheers when I reappear at the center line. The ref holds the puck up, and the San Francisco center chuffs at me.

“Forget you’re here to play hockey, Ashcroft?”

I don’t take the bait. Instead, I let the steady love from Quinn and Beck settle deep in my chest, anchoring me. For the first time in a long time, the ice feels solid beneath my skates.

The puck drops. I win the face-off cleanly, moving faster and lighter than I ever have before. When the puck leaves my stick and sails into the back of the net, the horn blares, and the crowd explodes around me.

But I’m not looking at the scoreboard or the team. My eyes find them instantly—Quinn and Beck are on their feet, cheering wildly and laughing.

This is it. Not the goal. Not winning. It’s them and the way they’re looking at me right now, like I’m enough and that will never change.

Fuck, I love them. And I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together, creating more moments, both the good and the imperfect.

Epilogue

Noah

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

“Ashcroft is going to be thinking about that one for a long time.”

“That’s right, Sean, but unlike last season, this one’s going to go down in the history books for all the right reasons.”

“You’ve got that right. Congrats to the Seattle Stormbreakers on their Stanley Cup win!”

Warm kisses work their way up my neck, the tickle of Beck’s beard forcing a shiver up my spine.

“We’re so proud of you, baby.” He caresses the shell of my ear with his lips.

Quinn’s hand on my thigh drags upward, and she clicks off the TV with the remote in her other hand. “We are.”

I close my eyes, a small smile tugging at my lips, allowing myself to fall into the sensations of my partners teasing me.

“I couldn’t have done it without both of you,” I say. And that’s the truth of it. This season wouldn’t have been nearly as successful without them. They were both there through the good and the bad, helping me when I was tempted to slip back into old patterns where the only thing that mattered was the game, how well I played, or the opinions of others.

There were tears and fights, but at the end of the day, both Quinn and Beck never gave up on me. Because of them and my supportive team, this season ended a hell of a lot better than the last one.