Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Four
Vivian
The arena buzzes with electricity, every seat filled with nervous energy and hope. Game seven of the second round of the Stanley Cup championship. Due to Ranger’s skill and leadership after Grady’s injury, the team made it past the opening round for the first time in over a decade. Dante and Sergio are thrilled. But the stakes couldn’t be higher, and you can feel it in the air, like static before a storm. Fans are shouting, waving their foam fingers, and banging on the glass. The Venom have clawed their way here against all odds, and now, just one win stands between them and the Conference Finals.
I tug at the hem of my jersey, suddenly hyperaware of how it feels against my skin. It’s not just any jersey—it’s Grady’s jersey from his playing days with the Thunder. The number 19 stretches across my back, his name stitched above it in bold letters. It’s vintage, slightly faded, but it feels like I’m wearing a piece of him, a piece of his history.
Knova elbows me, yanking me out of my thoughts. “If you keep fidgeting like that, you’re going to wear a hole in it.” She nods toward the ice, where the players are warming up. “Focus, Viv. It’s game time.”
She’s perched on the edge of her seat; fists clenched like she’s ready to jump the glass and take the opening face-off herself. On her other side, Mom sits with her hands folded neatly in her lap, her calm smile hiding the fact that she’s just as much of a nervous wreck as the rest of us.
I glance at the bench, where Grady paces like a caged tiger, barking out commands to the players. He’s completely in his element—calm, commanding, magnetic. The crowd noise fades as I watch him, and my chest tightens with pride.
That’s my man down there .
The PA announcer’s voice booms through the speakers, and the Jumbotron lights up with highlights of Grady’s playing days. “As the Venom take on the Thunder tonight, we’re reminded of Coach Grady Metcalfe’s incredible legacy—a man who gave his all on the ice for his team and now brings that same passion to the bench. Welcome to the Stanley Cup playoffs Vegas style, Coach Metcalfe.”
The crowd erupts in cheers, and I can’t help but smile as Knova mutters, “Damn straight.”
But my smile wavers as I glance at Grady again, his name on my back and ring on my finger. He’s not just a coach or a former player to me. He’s everything, and that realization scares me more than any game ever could.
The game is brutal. Hard hits, fast plays, and the kind of relentless back-and-forth that leaves the crowd breathless. The Thunder are no joke—they’re as sharp and hungry as we are, and every second feels like a fight to survive. The Venom scored early in the second period to tie it up, but now, with just minutes left in the third, the scoreboard remains frozen at 3-3.
Knova is gripping her seat so hard I half expect the armrests to snap off. “Come on, little brother. Come on, come on, come on,” she chants under her breath as he charges toward the boards to battle for the puck. Mom, ever composed, wrings her hands in her lap. Even Kingsley, cool and collected as always, leans forward slightly, her lips pressed in a thin line.
I should be focused on the game, on Viktor’s seamless breakouts and Knight’s fearless grit in the corners. But my eyes keep drifting to the bench. To him.
Grady’s pacing like his life depends on it, his jaw tight, his hands moving as he shouts commands to the players. Even in the chaos, he’s a rock, keeping his team grounded and fighting. I watch the way Ranger leans in to consult with him and how Dad gives a quick nod from the end of the bench. Grady absorbs it all, every bit of information, every detail, and channels it into his team.
And then, with two minutes left on the clock, it happens.
The Thunder capitalize on a bad bounce off the boards, and their captain sends a blistering slapshot past Owen. The red light flashes, the horn blares, and the few Thunder fans who made the trip erupt into cheers. My heart sinks as the Venom players deflate, their shoulders slumping as they skate back to the bench.
Knova groans, burying her face in her hands. “No. No, no, no. They can’t go out like this. Not after everything. I hate the Thunder! They can go blow wind and crack their ass cheeks!”
I don’t say anything because I can’t. My throat feels tight, and my chest aches as I watch Grady clap each player on the back, urging them to keep pushing, to give it everything they’ve got in these final moments.
My dad pulls Owen, throwing every ounce of effort into tying the game. Viktor fires a shot from the blue line, and for a moment, it looks like it’s going in—but the Thunder’s goalie snags it with a glove save that sends the crowd into a frenzy.
The final buzzer sounds, and just like that, it’s over.
I stand there, frozen, as the small cotillion of Thunder fans scream bloody murder. The Venom bench is quiet, the players staring at the ice or each other, their disappointment palpable. Damn, we were so freaking close. Grady stands at the edge of the bench, his hands on his hips, his head bowed.
My chest aches as I watch him, so alone in this moment, even surrounded by his team. I wish I could be down there with him, slipping my hands over his tense shoulders, easing the weight of the loss, whispering in his ear that he’s not in this alone. That tonight doesn’t define him or the incredible season he built. Instead, I’m up here, helpless, watching the man I care about more than I want to admit carry the crushing burden of everyone’s expectations on his back. It kills me that I can’t do anything to make it better, that I can’t be the one to steady him when he’s given everything he has.
But then he straightens, shaking Ranger’s hand and clapping Dad on the shoulder. As the players leave the ice, he walks to the tunnel, his back straight, his chin high. He doesn’t look defeated—just determined.
I watch him go, the name Metcalfe on my back feeling heavier than ever. The tears in my eyes aren’t just for the game—they’re for him. For the man who gave everything tonight. For the man I’m marrying, even if he never wins a Stanley Cup.
The crowd begins to thin out as fans trickle toward the exits, some jubilant in their Thunder jerseys, most subdued in Venom colors. I’m still rooted in place, trying to gather myself, when I feel a gentle tap on my shoulder.
I turn to find two women standing there, both with the same dark hair and piercing eyes as Grady. One of them—slightly taller, with a confident stance—smiles warmly. “Vivian, right? I’m Laura, and this is Erin. We’re Grady’s sisters.”
I blink, caught off guard. “Oh! Hi, yes, that’s me. I—wow, I didn’t know you were here. You should have called me! We could’ve sat together.”
Laura waves a hand dismissively. “We didn’t want to impose. We wanted to surprise him, not crash your night.”
Erin nods, grinning. “Besides, we figured you’d have your hands full with all the playoff chaos. But you know, we didn’t realize you’d be rocking his old jersey. Nice touch.”
My cheeks warm as I glance down at the faded team logo. “I thought it might bring him luck.” I pause, then smirk. “Maybe next time you two can let me know you’re coming so we can coordinate matching outfits.”
They laugh, and for a moment, the weight in my chest lightens. It’s easy to see how much they adore their brother, the pride shining in their eyes even after a tough loss.
The three of us linger for a little while longer, letting the worst of the crowd clear the main concourse while we swap stories about Grady—his childhood antics, his stubborn streak, the way he always took charge even when he had no business doing so. I find myself smiling, comforted by the easy rapport I already have with his sisters.
Eventually, as the arena empties around us, Laura checks her phone and nudges Erin. “We should get down to the tunnel so we don’t have any chance of missing him. He doesn’t know we’re here yet.”
I lead the way, weaving through the lingering fans and down the familiar corridors of the arena until we reach the players’ exit. The tunnel buzzes with activity as players begin to emerge. I spot Dad first, chatting with Ranger, followed by my brother and the rest of the guys. Then, finally, Grady appears. His hair is damp from the shower, and a Venom satchel is slung over his shoulder. He looks exhausted but proud, the weight of the game still etched in the tight set of his jaw.
When his eyes land on us—me standing with Erin and Laura—he freezes mid-step, his brows lifting in surprise. “What the hell?” A slow grin spreads across his face, chasing away some of the exhaustion. “What are you two doing here?”
Erin bounces on her toes, throwing her arms wide. “Surprise!”
Grady shakes his head, laughing as he strides toward them. “You’re supposed to tell me when you’re coming to town.”
Laura steps forward and pulls him into a tight hug. “And ruin the surprise? Where’s the fun in that?”
“Fun for you, maybe,” he mutters, though he hugs her back just as fiercely before turning to Erin and pulling her into his arms. “I can’t believe you guys came all the way down here for this.”
Erin squeezes him and then pulls back to give him a mock-stern look. “Like we were going to miss your first trip to the conference championships as a head coach. Please.”
Grady looks between them, his expression softening in a way that makes my chest ache. “But we didn’t make it.”
Laura squeezes his forearm. “But you damn near did. And what you’ve done with this team, little brother? You should be so proud of yourself.”
“I don’t know about that. But you both being here? It means the world to me,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost reverent.
Then, his gaze shifts to me, and the air between us crackles. For a second, it’s like the world narrows, the noise of the arena fading into nothing.
“You’re wearing my jersey,” he says, his voice low, almost disbelieving.
I shrug, trying to be nonchalant even though my heart is pounding. “Seemed appropriate.”
Erin elbows him playfully. “Look at her, Grady. Viv’s a fan. Now you have at least three dedicated just to you.”
He shoots her a glare but doesn’t respond. Instead, his eyes stay locked on mine, something unspoken passing between us.
Laura clears her throat, breaking the moment. “So, are we going to stand here all night, or are we celebrating?”
Grady’s lips twitch into a half-smile. “Celebrating what?”
“You made it past the first round for the first time in over ten years, and you damn near made it to the conference championship,” Erin counters.
Laura nods. “Dante’s right. You’re bringing the magic back. Our baby bro is totally magical.”
There’s a pinch behind my ribs when I think about all the ways their brother is magical. None of which I’ll be sharing with my future sisters-in-law.
Grady lets out a breath, some of the tension in his shoulders easing. “Yeah, well… I couldn’t have done it without this team.”
His words are humble, but the pride in his voice is unmistakable. And as I watch him, surrounded by the people who love him, I realize something: Grady isn’t just rebuilding the Venom. He’s building something for himself, too—something solid, something lasting.
“For your information.” Laura clasps her hands under her chin. “We didn’t share any baby photos of you… yet.”
Erin shakes her head and tries to keep a straight face. “Nope. Not a one.”
Grady groans. “Viv, something tells me that my sisters went through our family photo albums and loaded their camera libraries with all my most incriminating photos.”
“Maybe. For what it’s worth, I’m sure every photo of you ever taken is really cute.” I take his other arm. “I’m convinced you’re perfect because you grew up with two older sisters.”
Erin cackles like a wicked witch. “She thinks he’s perfect! That’s adorable.”
“Hey.” I fake glare at her. “Don’t ruin this for me.”
“I think we get to ruin it a little.” Laura holds her fingers half an inch apart. “Just a smidge.”
Erin nods her agreement. “A tiny bit. Part of the beauty of being the older siblings is having stories to share. And with him busy coaching…”
“Unable to defend himself…” I grin, too.
“Completely surrounded by females.” Grady shakes his head. “I’m in so much trouble.”
“Have you caught him peeing outside yet?” Laura asks.
My mom overhears this from a few feet away, choking on her laughter and trying to cover it with a cough.
“Is that something I should watch out for?” I ask.
Erin smirks. “He used to. Every morning. About gave our elderly neighbor, Mrs. Murphy, a heart attack. The only thing that saved her was her bad eyesight.”
“He was always getting hurt, too. I thought Mom was going to have to start taking anxiety meds.” Laura is positively gleeful.
Erin tugs Grady’s arm. “Yeah. The school called CPS. They thought he was getting beaten on a regular basis. It was just hockey and his antics.”
I snicker and nudge his shoulder with mine. “Tell me more.”
“Tell her less,” Grady protests.
Laura purses her lips and looks up at the ceiling as she flips through her Rolodex of blackmail material, ignoring him entirely. “Remember the time he broke the bed?”
I grimace. “Do I want to know?”
Erin reaches around Grady to pat my shoulder. “No second party was involved. He jumped too hard, broke the bed, and ended up with a bad sprain. Six weeks on crutches.”
If anything, that has me more concerned. “Suddenly, I’m wondering if I’m ready for motherhood. If Grady was that much of a hellion…”
My mom raises her eyebrows as she joins the conversation. “Oh, please. As if you were the perfect child.”
My free hand flies to my chest. “Excuse you, I was!”
“As a little kid, yes.” Mom narrows her eyes. “But you made up for it during puberty.”
“Kids can be a handful,” Laura agrees. “I mostly love having them. Not everyone’s cut out for it, but Grady will be an awesome dad. You should see him with Ethan and Sophie.”
“Yes, you should.” Erin elbows her brother in the ribs. “You should bring her to Alberta for Christmas. You both can babysit while we get some much-needed self-care time.”
He shakes her off. “No way. Who wants to fly to Alberta in December? You should come here.”
“But you don’t have to fly with a kid!” Erin points out. “And there are only two of you.”
“Are you really going to make me drag my kids through customs just so that you can skip out on the snow?” Laura turns to me. “I know I just said that I like most parts of parenting, but international flights with children are not a perk.”
“We’ll talk about it,” I say. “I’d like to meet the rest of the family.” Grady hasn’t talked about his parents much, but I’d like to see where he comes from. Meet all of his people. Since my people have been such a big part of our relationship, it only seems fair.
“If Viv wants to go, then we’ll go,” Grady concedes. He smiles down at me, and I automatically snuggle into him. I’ve never been much of a future planner. Jaime had warned me about the effects of New Relationship Energy when I finally admitted Grady and I were a couple, and I’m sure that part of what I’m experiencing is the thrill of new love. My first real love when you think about it. Even though we’ve been together for almost a year, we skipped right from being an official couple to being engaged. This is all happening so fast, but I guess when I think about it, it’s normal for more mature people to know what they want and go after it.
It feels so right. That’s why I’m leaning into it with my whole heart.
I hug Grady’s arm. “What did I tell you? He’s perfect. At least perfect for me.”
Grady kisses the top of my head, earning an awww from his sisters and a wolf whistle from my idiot brother who’s walking by with his friends. I glare at him. I do not need his heckling, thank you very much. Mom has already drifted off again to find Dad. No doubt we’ll see them both at the afterparty.
“We should get going,” Grady tells his sisters. “You two will love the Puck Drop. Just wait until you taste the cannolis.” He lowers his voice. “And don’t you dare share my dark secrets with my players. I have a reputation to maintain, and a leadership role that doesn’t need to be questioned.”
“You got it, baby bro.” Erin mimes locking her lips. Laura does the same.
Still chatting, we make our way down the tunnel along with the rest of the rapidly thinning crowd. I’m starting to get a glimpse of what my life with Grady will be like, the future we’ll share together, and the new shape our relationships will take. Meeting Grady changed everything, and someday, when we have kids—one way or another—everything will change again.
I used to think that unexpected change was the worst thing that could happen to a person. Now I see that it can also be the best thing.
As we walk to the parking lot, I can’t help but glance at Grady, taking in every detail of the man who has completely reshaped my world. His hand brushes mine, and I curl my fingers around his, holding on as if letting go might send me spiraling back into the woman I was before him. But that woman doesn’t exist anymore. Not because he’s changed me, but because he’s made me see myself more clearly—made me see what I want, what I deserve.
And I deserve this. Him. Us.
I don’t just love this man. I love the family that raised him, the family that shaped him into the strong, steady, compassionate person standing beside me. And I’ll love the family we create together just as fiercely. I’ll love our messy mornings, the chaos of future little Metcalfes running around, and the quiet nights where it’s just us, wrapped in each other’s arms, dreaming about the life we’re building.
Grady is my home. My safe place. My everything.
I used to think love like this only existed in fairy tales or movies, but now I know it’s real. It’s messy and imperfect and terrifying, but it’s also the most beautiful thing I’ve ever felt. And as we step out into the cool Vegas night, hand in hand, I know one thing for certain: I’m not just leaning into this future. I’m diving in headfirst, with no intention of ever looking back.