34. Chapter 34
One week before playoffs and the locker room still feels like home.
Practice is over. The team is loud and loose, the kind of tired-but-happy energy that comes after a good session.
I am sitting on the bench in front of my stall, legs spread, with Cole kneeling between my knees.
My fingers are careful as I slide his tongue piercing back into place, thumb brushing his bottom lip when I am done.
He looks up at me with that lovestruck expression that never fails to make my chest feel too full.
Cole, Elias, and the rookies are deep in conversation about the wedding — the one we decided will happen after the playoffs, when the season is over and we can actually breathe.
“I’m telling you, the venue has to have a rink,” Elias says, gesturing wildly with one hand while he unlaces his skates. “You two met on ice. You fell in love on ice. The wedding should be on ice. Literal ice. We can have the reception on the boards.”
Cole laughs around the fresh piercing, the sound bright and happy. “Curls, I love you, but if you suggest we get married in full gear again I’m disowning you as best man.”
Jace is practically vibrating. “Can I be a groomsman? I’ll wear whatever. I look good in a suit. Or hockey pads. Whatever you need.”
Tyler is quieter but smiling, adding in shy suggestions about colors while Shane keeps yelling ridiculous ideas from across the room — something about releasing doves that are actually trained attack birds.
I finish securing the piercing and run my thumb over Cole’s jaw, just watching him.
He is glowing. Laughing. Alive in that way only he can be.
The fear that haunted him for weeks after my father’s death has settled into something manageable.
He still has moments — quiet spirals when he thinks I am not looking — but he lets me pull him out of them now. Lets me remind him we are safe.
“Done,” I murmur, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his forehead.
Cole beams up at me. “Thank you, big guy.”
Damian walks in a few minutes later, clipboard in one hand, cane thumping against the floor with every step, permanent scowl firmly in place. “Alright, listen up,” he barks, voice cutting through the noise like it always does.
The room quiets — mostly. Cole, Elias, and the rookies keep whispering in the corner about wedding details like they think Damian cannot hear them.
“I still think black flowers.”
“No.”
“Dark green?”
“No.”
“What about ice sculptures?”
“YES. Actually no.”
Damian ignores them at first, his eyes scanning the room as he starts listing the playoff teams in that gruff, no-nonsense tone.
“First round matchups are set. We’re facing the Halifax Icehawks again — they earned the wildcard and they’re pissed.
Wranglers took the Central. Bastards are in from the Metropolitan.
Wolves made it through the Pacific. Vancouver and Chicago are the other two.
It’s going to be a bloodbath. No easy games.
You slack off for one second and they’ll eat you alive.
We train harder starting tomorrow. No excuses. ”
Cole, Elias, and the rookies are still whispering. “Ice sculptures could be cool though—”
“Focus,” Damian snaps without even looking at them, but there is the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Meanwhile, Cole is fully in wedding-planner mode, still sitting between my knees like it is his assigned seat in life. “So… seating chart,” he starts, completely ignoring the fact that Damian is trying to run a serious playoff briefing.
Elias jumps in immediately. “I’m telling you, don’t separate Damian from me. I will cause problems.”
Cole nods sagely. “I wasn’t planning to.”
Jace pipes up from the other side of the room, hopeful. “Can I sit with Shane?”
Tyler groans. “I don’t wanna sit next to Roman, he steals fries.”
Roman, without missing a beat, deadpans, “I do not.”
Damian is standing at the whiteboard, trying to talk strategy and travel plans like a professional. “Halifax will come out swinging. We need to shut down their transition game early. Travel schedule is locked — we fly out Thursday, hotel is—”
WHACK.
The clipboard slams against the whiteboard so hard everyone jumps.
“You four,” Damian growls, pointing at Cole, Elias, Jace, and Tyler, “are planning a wedding. During my playoff briefing.”
Cole, without missing a beat and still sitting happily between my knees, grins up at him. “It affects attendance, sir.”
Damian pinches the bridge of his nose so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t snap. “I swear to God…”
Then Elias, completely serious, adds, “But Coach… if Shane catches the bouquet…”
“I don’t care who catches the bouquet,” Damian deadpans.
I watch the whole thing with a small smile on my face.
Cole isn’t planning escape routes anymore.
He isn’t looking up fake passports or researching New Zealand immigration.
He is planning our wedding. Our future. The relief in my chest is warm and deep.
My little bird is finally looking forward instead of running.
“And you!” Damian groans, pointing straight at me.
I gesture to myself innocently.
“Yeah, you! If you don’t make that fiancé of yours shut the fuck up, I’m marrying you in the fucking locker room,” Damian huffs.
Cole gasps dramatically, hand flying to his chest. “But sir!”
The entire locker room explodes into laughter. Shane is howling. Mats is wiping tears from his eyes. Even Roman has a grin on his face.
I just pull Cole back against my chest, arms wrapping around him, and press a kiss to the top of his head while the chaos continues around us.
Cole, being Cole as always, of course, cannot leave well enough alone. He gets up from between my knees, walks straight over to Damian like he has zero fear of death, and looks up at our terrifying coach with complete seriousness.
“You said you’d marry us, right? Like Viktor married you and Curls. You guys got married on the rink, so obviously… Curls… WE are not doing that. But, sir… Green or black?” Cole asks, voice deadly serious.
Damian glares at him so hard I’m surprised Cole doesn’t combust on the spot.
Cole just grins wider, completely unbothered.
“Black,” Damian says eventually, almost against his will.
Cole looks victorious.
“And maybe a destination wedding would be more fun,” Damian adds, leaning down to whisper just loud enough for Cole (and me) to hear, “Since you wanted to run away. New Zealand, maybe?”
Cole’s mouth drops open in pure betrayal. Damian straightens up with the tiniest, most evil smirk I have ever seen on the man and goes right back to his clipboard like nothing happened.
I simply lean back against my stall, watching my fiancé get absolutely roasted by our coach and feeling something warm and steady settle deep in my chest.
Cole spins on his heel and looks straight at me, pouting like the dramatic little bird he is. “Get up, Petrov. We have a Cup to win… so we can get married,” he huffs, trying to look serious even with the blush still on his cheeks.
I stand up slowly, towering over him, and smirk. “Yes, baby.”
I pull him in right there in the middle of the locker room and kiss him. The team whoops and catcalls around us, but I do not care. Cole melts against me instantly, his hands fisting in my shirt, making that soft little sound I love so much.
When I pull back, his eyes are dazed and happy.
“Cup first,” I murmur against his mouth. “Then forever.”
Cole grins up at me, bright and brilliant and mine. “Deal.”
The locker room explodes into cheers again as we head out for the ice, hand in hand, rings catching the light.
I would burn the world for him. Thankfully, all he asked me to do was win one more Cup.