Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
MATT
Jesse thrust Frankie the fox in front of me. “Kiss him for good luck.”
I stared at the plush toy that had been handled by every player on the team, not to mention stuffed in the most disgusting duffel bags. “I’m not kissing that. I know where it’s been.”
Jesse’s face fell, which looked especially ridiculous with the beard he’d been trying to grow. “But this game decides whether we make it to the finals. Don’t you want to make sure we have all the good juju we can get?”
I pressed my lips firmly together and rubbed the fox’s head instead. “I’ll touch it. I’ll even hug it. But I’m not putting my mouth on it.”
“Aww.” He pouted. “Austin said the same thing, but I thought if I could get someone else to do it, then he might too. You both need to lighten up.”
I shook my head. It didn’t matter what he said; it wasn’t happening.
He rolled his eyes and grabbed Drew’s shoulder. “Hey, bestie. You’ll kiss Frankie, won’t you?”
Drew put his hand over Jesse’s face and playfully pushed him away. “Go away, demon.”
A whistle blasted through the changing rooms, and we all fell silent and turned to the front. Coach Dunn and Assistant Coach Willets stood side by side, clad in blue-and-black suits, and there was a fox head badge pinned to Willets’s pocket.
Coach Dunn rested his hands on his hips.
“You’ve worked hard to get this far,” he said, slowly looking from one face to the next, gracing every player with a moment of eye contact and not missing anyone.
“Every person here has played their ass off this season and whatever the final score is today, I’m proud of you all. ”
Jesse opened his big mouth and looked like he might be about to say something, but Drew covered it and nodded at Coach to continue.
“If we make it to the playoffs, just know that you deserve to be there. You’re ready for it. So let’s get out there and show New York what a strong team looks like.”
Assistant Coach Willets clapped and the rest of us followed suit.
My gut had swarmed with nerves all day, but while I wanted to win, I didn’t feel like everything was riding on this game.
For once, I had more in my life than hockey.
I had a beautiful woman out there in the stands, and win or lose, I’d get to go home to her.
Someone from the venue’s staff poked their head in to let us know it was time to roll out. I checked that everything was in place and then pulled my helmet on. We lined up to go out onto the ice, and there was a certain weightiness in the air that wasn’t usually present.
Austin took the lead and Nick fell into step behind him.
I followed Nick, with Brian on my heel. As we entered the stadium, a roar rose from the stands.
Most of the audience was decked out in the blue and red of New York, but there were clusters of people wearing primarily black and silver, which the Chaos supporters were using to differentiate themselves because both teams’ uniforms were in shades of blue.
The atmosphere was electric. I reached the ice and skated a lap, scanning the stands for a familiar face. I found Chelsey standing with my parents, near Kim and Patrick from the documentary crew. Her camera hung around her neck and when she saw me looking, she stood and turned to show me her back.
My name was printed across her Chicago Chaos jersey. Satisfaction swept through me, and I pointed to her and put my hand on my heart.
Fuck, I loved her.
It was just like the old days. Her in the stands, wearing my name. Me on the ice, determined to make her proud. Except, unlike back then, I’d never let her down.
I skated a few more circuits to warm up, keeping an eye on her. Things had been fucking amazing between us since we’d come clean to the rest of the team and management about our relationship.
Stella hadn’t been impressed that Chelsey had failed to disclose our previous relationship and Coach wasn’t happy that I’d lied to him that night he caught us at Rinkside, but we’d managed to work everything out.
Her contract had been extended for a year, and we’d been treading carefully with the coaching and management staff, but within the team, everyone was supportive.
Assistant Coach Willets called the defensemen over to run drills with the first, second, and third line forwards while the fourth line forwards started warming up Davenport and Schmidt. We practiced two-on-one drills and then three-on-two drills.
The pucks flew back and forth, and as I looped around, leaving McKinley and Elliott to have their turn, I scanned the excited fans and the determined faces of my teammates, and the moment crystallized in my mind.
Once upon a time, I’d been a little boy from a family living in poverty. Now, I was playing in the NHL, about to compete for a slot in the Stanley Cup finals, and the love of my life was waiting in the stands with Mom and Dad.
I was literally living my dream.
Even if we lost tonight, no one could take that away from me.
The coaches called the team over, and we gathered for our last briefing before the game began. I was in the starting lineup and I took my place opposite Gauthier and held my breath as the puck dropped.
New York was quick off the mark, their forwards snatching the puck and racing toward us. Gauthier and I had to work hard just to hold the line. When Coach swapped us out, it was all I could do to remember to breathe as we rested until we went back on.
No one scored in the first period. In the second, their center performed some fancy footwork to get around Gauthier and draw me over. As I went to intercede, he flicked it backward to a defenseman, who sent it to the wing, who took advantage of the gap where I had been to score on Davenport.
“Fuck,” I cursed.
Gauthier slapped me on the shoulder. “Not your fault, man. They had to get past me, you, and Davenport.”
I knew that, but it didn’t make me feel any better.
We managed to hold them off for the rest of the game, but without us scoring, they still won in the end.
We were a little deflated as New York hugged and hollered, but I embraced Gauthier and then Young and Kelly and tried not to feel too down about it.
After all, two years ago, we’d been a mess of a team that never would have dreamed of making it even this far.
I tried to hug Davenport, but he pushed me away and settled for bumping his fist against mine. Even McKinley got in on the love fest, although I did notice him trying to push Young away when the other player insisted on slinging an arm around his shoulders.
We cooled down, stretched, and made our way off the ice and into the changing rooms. There was a strange kind of energy in the crowded space. The air practically vibrated with the built-up anticipation that had gotten us this far, but no one was standing as tall as before.
“We’re proud of you,” Assistant Coach Willets said as we sat to remove our skates and gear. “You played well today and you can hold your heads up high. Don’t be put off by this loss. We’ll just come back next season and do even better.”
“Marlon is right.” Coach Dunn raised his voice to be heard better over the muffled noises of the fans outside and New York in the other changing rooms. “We’ve come so far as a team this year.”
I undid my skates and slid them off, then stripped my socks and pants into a stinky heap on the floor. My upper body gear came next. I was glad to get it all off, peeling the damp fabric from my skin and wrinkling my nose at the smell.
“We’ve grown together,” he continued, “learned to work in harmony.”
I wrapped a towel around my waist, eager for a shower but also needing to hear whatever it was Coach had to say. There would be more of a debrief once we returned to Chicago, but that didn’t change the significance of this post-game pep talk.
“I’ve been proud to coach you this season, and I think every single one of you can walk away from tonight feeling like a winner.
I won’t say any more on the matter. I’m sure you’ll want to get out and have some fun.
I just ask that you keep it out of the media.
” He looked around. “Harris and Matthews, meet me outside after your showers for the press conference.”
“Sure thing, coach,” I called.
Austin just nodded.
I showered and dressed in my suit, checking in the mirror to make sure that everything was in place before heading out. Coach Dunn had removed his jacket—perhaps having grown too warm away from the ice—and as I approached, he dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief.
“You did well tonight,” he said, tucking the handkerchief into his pocket. “That goal wasn’t on you, so don’t beat yourself up over it.”
“Thanks, Coach.” I was sure I’d rethink the moment plenty of times before my brain allowed me to move on, but it was nice to hear he didn’t hold it against me.
Austin sauntered up behind us, and Coach pivoted and made for the media room.
“You ready for this?” Austin asked me quietly.
I shrugged. “Are we ever?”
We were hockey players, not public speakers, but the two went hand-in-hand at our level of success.
A member of staff led us around the gathered reporters to the table at the front.
I sat behind it with Austin on one side and Coach Dunn on the other.
The New York coach, captain, and the guy who’d scored the only goal of the game sat at the other end.
The players were beaming, practically giddy, and disappointment pinched at me, but I tamped it down.
Sure, that could have been us, but it wasn’t as if we wouldn’t get another chance. I had more years left on my contract and perhaps we’d make it to the finals before my body broke down and it was time to retire.
The reporters addressed New York first, since they’d won. When the other team had answered all the questions they were willing to, the attention turned to us.
Coach Dunn spoke briefly about how pleased he was with the team’s efforts this season and how we’d come further than he’d expected. Austin congratulated New York on the win and emphasized the fact that we hadn’t played poorly; they’d simply been better.
By the time I had to speak, my tie felt too tight around my neck, and I was shifting restlessly in my seat. I had a plan in place in case I was invited to the press conference today and now that it was time to execute it, I was a bit of a mess.
It didn’t help that Chelsey had appeared beyond the sea of reporters, her expression warm as our gazes caught. She’d be able to hear every word, which was both good and fucking terrifying. What if she didn’t react well?
“Matt,” one of the reporters said, and all eyes turned to me. “The Chaos has had a remarkable turnaround over the last two years. Is there anything that’s responsible for your motivation to push harder and take the team further?”
I leaned forward to speak directly into a microphone.
“For me personally, the support and encouragement of my wonderful girlfriend, Chelsey Fields, has been vital. Without her, I doubt I would have had such a successful season. She’s there for me every day, helping me be my best self and shouting herself hoarse at every game. ”
Near the back of the room, her eyes were wide and she’d pressed her hand to her mouth.
I winked at her. “Love you, baby.”
I sat back, the knots in my gut loosening as her features melted into something sweet and joyful. She gave me a look that said we’d be having words about this surprise relationship announcement later, but she also couldn’t hide her smile.
She liked me acknowledging our relationship publicly.
She never would’ve asked for it, and although the team and her colleagues all knew now, we hadn’t made a public statement.
But after making her feel like I was ashamed of her back in college, I’d hoped that declaring my love for her in front of the entire world might eliminate the last of her doubts.
After that, we breezed through the rest of the press conference. When we were released, I found Chelsey waiting for me outside. She took my hand and drew me around the corner, into a less populated corridor.
Her eyes sparkled. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“You aren’t upset?” I asked, needing confirmation.
She laughed. “Who could be upset by a hot hockey player declaring their love in front of a dozen different media outlets?”
“Not you,” I said hopefully.
She wrapped her arms around my waist. “I love you, Matt.”
I kissed her, smiling against her lips, and sucked the plush lower one into my mouth for a moment. “I love you too.”
She drew back. “I didn’t need you to do that, but it was nice to have you claim me like that. Maybe now all those puck bunnies will back off.”
I snorted. “You seem to think there’s a horde of women waiting to ambush me around every corner. I promise there’s not. And even if there were, the only woman I’m interested in is you.”
“Good.” She smirked. “That’s how it should be.”
My heart swelled with affection, and I hugged her close and buried my face in her hair. I didn’t know how she ever thought I could look at anyone else when she was all I’d dreamed of for a decade.
“It’s only ever been you,” I whispered against her temple. “Then. Now. Always. It’s just me and you.”
“Always,” she echoed.
THE END