Chapter 46
forty-six
. . .
Nick
three months later
As I take the ice for the final game of the season, it’s bittersweet. The last few months with Boston have been the best of my career, and it’s mostly due to Bex being by my side. The guys in the dressing room are a big part of that, too.
When I look back at my professional hockey career, I’m happy. Content. Even though I haven’t won a Cup yet, I’m a two-time Hart Trophy winner for most valuable player to my team—for two different teams—and I made my mark on the world of hockey.
I’m still writing my story, but I’m proud of where I am. Where I can go.
There’s still plenty more hockey in my future. I’m not retiring yet. It’s on the horizon, still kept at bay by my plans. There’s plenty more to come.
For now, as I look forward, I’m ready to move on to the next phase in my life. Marriage. Babies. Eventually, a podcast with my nemesis turned future brother-in-law.
If she says yes, that is.
It’s the Shirt Off Our Backs game, where we close out the regular season by giving our game-worn jerseys to a lucky fan.
Bex is behind the bench with the rest of the staff, and when Vanessa directs her to the carpet rolled out for our fans, she rolls her eyes.
But she walks out onto the ice, a smile on her face before she turns to face the audience, putting her back to me like the rest of the fans.
The number 52 Mitchell jersey on her never fails to bring a smile to my face.
Before I take my spot beside my teammates, I skate over to the bench.
“You sure about this?” Vanessa asks me.
When I nod, she hands over the ring box.
“Go get your girl, tiger.”
I flash her a smile before skating into position.
One by one, the announcer introduces each fan, who turns around with a paper listing the player gifting his jersey. I watch as my teammates skate up to the fan, shaking hands or hugging, and then literally pull their sweater off their backs, sign it, and pose for photos with the fan.
We go down the list in roster order, and my palms start to sweat. My heart races, and every breath I take sounds like a foghorn blaring in the sea.
“Rebecca Whitney, meet your player,” the announcer calls.
This is it. This is the moment.
When she turns around, I skate in front of her. But I don’t pull off my sweater.
Instead, I drop to one knee.
Her hands fly up to her mouth, and she rapid blinks, like she can’t believe this is happening.
“Rebecca Lynn Bex Marie Whitney.”
She gulps, her brown eyes glassy with unshed tears. The arena has fallen silent, and the announcer approaches with a microphone in his outstretched hand. I take it, my other hand reaching for hers.
She slides her hand into mine, and all is right in the world.
There’s always a risk to a public proposal. What if she says no? What if she turns me down? I don’t know how I’d ever survive the heartbreak.
But we’ve talked about timelines, and we want to be married. We want kids.
A proposal is the first step. Then comes the engagement, then the wedding, then we’ll start trying…
Even though I’ll have hockey taking up my time for a little while longer, I can devote my time to her. To us. To our family.
“From the moment I saw you in that Michigan bar in nowheresville, Ohio, I knew you were the one for me. Our journey was full of twists and turns, and a fair bit of heartache, and I’m so, so grateful you gave me a chance. Gave us a chance. I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Reaching for the ring box, I barely manage to get it open. My sweaty palm soaks the velvet as I hold it out to her.
It’s a pear-shaped diamond with four smaller stones on either side. Elsy and Vanessa assured me she’d love it, and Ceci sent me the link to her Pinterest board.
If she hates the ring, I’ll get her another one. As many as she needs. The ring itself isn’t as important as what it symbolizes: that she’s mine, and I’m hers, and we belong to each other.
“Will you marry me?”
Tears streak down her face as she whips her head in a yes.
“I need to hear it. I need the words.”
“Yes, I’ll marry you,” she says, the microphone booming her words to the seventeen thousand fans in attendance.
What sounds like the entire arena bursts into cheers and applause.
But I ignore it.
Bex hauls me to my feet and I pull her into my arms, needing to feel her body against mine. She throws her arms around my neck, holding me close for a moment before she pulls back, kissing me.
I’m still holding the microphone and the ring box. The announcer eases the mic out of my grasp, and I fumble for the ring, slipping it from the pillow and onto her finger. She doesn’t even glance at it before pulling me into another hug.
Mine. Mine, mine, mine. The words beat in my chest on a primal level.
I kiss her again and again and again.
Someone crashes into me, and then another, and before I know it, my teammates have swarmed us in a group hug.
“So happy for you!” Gonzo shouts. He’s still my best friend on the team, and I’m lucky to consider the rest of my teammates family, too.
“All right, all right,” the announcer calls.
Everyone shuffles back into place. I need to fulfill my end of the bargain, so I whip off my jersey—my very last jersey—and sign it before handing it off to Bex.
She clutches it to her chest, my ring glittering on her finger.
Somehow, we make it through the rest of the tradition. Once the last man is down to his base pads, we lift our hands and wave to our fans. The ones who make it possible for us to do what we love. The ones who support us through good times and bad. In sickness and in health.
I seek out Bex, and she’s grinning back at me, her eyes bright.
“I love you,” she mouths, and I tap my chest, right over my heart.
Skating over to her, I wrap her up in my arms.
Where she belongs.
This chapter in my life is over, and I’m ready to move on. To find myself after hockey. To start a podcast with Whitney. To start a family.
Together, Bex and I will embark on this new journey. Wherever we go, I know she’ll be by my side.
When I walked into that Michigan bar in Ohio, I had no idea what my life would become. The drama we’d have to wade through. How much we’d have to fight.
But we’ve battled. We’ve come out on the other side.
Because I’m hers. And she’s mine. And we have forever.