Chapter 34
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR
MIRANDA
Iswear my heart hasn’t stopped racing since puck drop.
The Cranes home arena feels like the center of the universe tonight—every fan in the building vibrating with nerves and hope as the team battles Colorado in game five of the Stanley Cup Finals. Three wins down, one to go. If the boys take tonight’s game, they’re champions again.
It’s unreal.
Even up here in the enclosed VIP suite, the energy buzzes like electricity under my skin. Fans pound the glass. Signs wave. The announcer’s voice booms through the chaos. My hands are shaking, and I’m pretty sure I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
I glance toward the ice and spot Miles on the bench, suited up in all his gear, helmet on, leaning forward with his glove propped on the boards.
He isn’t out for every shift—he and Finn are the newest guys, so they’re being rotated in sparingly—but the fire in his eyes is unmistakable.
He wants this win as badly as anyone out there.
Beside me, Anna squeezes my arm. “You okay?”
“No,” I whisper, pressing a hand to my stomach.
She laughs. “Me either.”
Down on the ice, Max is everywhere. He and Jaden read each other flawlessly, Cade is flying, Bash is bulldozing like a machine, and Gunner—good Lord—nothing rattles that man in the net.
They’re playing like champions.
But we’re still down 2–1.
When Max drops low to block a shot that looked like a guaranteed goal, I gasp. The puck smacks his stick with a sharp crack, ricocheting to Jaden, who clears it. My knees sag in relief.
“Girl, you’re sweating,” Iris teases as she steps beside me with a drink in hand.
“I might pass out,” I admit.
Iris snorts. “This sport does that to you.”
The buzzer signals the end of the second period, and I collapse into a seat.
The suite shifts into anxious chatter—wives, girlfriends, and families dissecting plays with varying degrees of accuracy.
Nolan toddles in front of the glass, smacking it gleefully.
Caroline sleeps in her stroller like her dad isn’t playing the most exciting game in history.
The guys return from the locker room sooner than I expected. As always, the first thing Miles does is look up into the suite. The moment our eyes meet, he smiles, and I lift my hand to the glass.
Then the third period begins.
The next minutes feel like hours. Colorado presses hard, but so do we. Every hit reverberates through my bones. Every shot has me lifting off my seat.
Then—with just under seven minutes left—Cade wins a critical face-off. He flicks the puck cleanly back to Max at the blue line.
Max sends it across the ice to Beckett.
Beckett fires. The rebound bounces wide.
Cade crashes in and—
SCORES.
The suite erupts. Iris screams and hugs everyone. Anna leaps up, grabbing my hands as we jump like idiots.
2–2.
One goal away from the Cup.
My pulse pounds so violently I can hear it. The final minute ticks away in excruciating slow motion. And then—with less than thirty seconds left, the Cranes push for one last chance.
Bash carries the puck deep, muscles past a defender, and dishes it to Cade—who’s immediately tripped. The puck rolls loose behind the net.
And then Max appears out of nowhere.
He scoops up the puck, swings around the net, spins off a defender, and shoots.
Time stops.
The red light flashes.
GOAL.
The arena explodes. The suite shakes. Everyone screams. The roar pours through the glass like a tidal wave, vibrating through my bones.
The buzzer sounds.
They won. They actually won.
The boys erupt on the ice—helmets tossed, gloves flying. Max is mobbed in a chaotic, beautiful pile of Cranes jerseys. Jaden grabs him. Cade shoves him playfully. Gunner lifts his stick in salute.
I press both my palms to the glass, tears streaming as emotion crashes over me. Pride. Joy. Awe.
I find Miles in the chaos, helmet tipped back, grinning so big his cheeks must hurt. He looks up at me again, and I smile back, so incredibly proud of him and the team. What a rush.
Anna squeezes my arm, eyes bright with adrenaline.
“It’s amazing dating a hockey player, isn’t it? I will never get over this rush.”
“There’s nothing like it,” I agree, still breathless from screaming at the ice.
Delaney leans forward between us, her expression adorably confused. “Wait—sorry to interrupt—but did you just say you were dating Miles?”
I smile. “Yeah.”
“Oh my gosh!” she exclaims, her mouth falling open. “All this time, I thought you two were just friends.”
“We were… for a long while,” I say with a shrug. “But we became official a couple of months ago.”
She shakes her head, grinning. “That makes total sense. I knew you two would end up together. I’m shocked Max didn’t mention it, but honestly”—she gestures toward Caroline, who’s now awake and sitting up in her stroller, happily chewing on the edge of her blanket—“we’ve been a little preoccupied with our tiny human. ”
I laugh. “Totally understandable. I’m not offended you’re not tracking every detail of my love life.”
Laney laughs softly and pulls me in for a warm hug. “Well, I’m really happy for you two. It’s a fun family to belong to, isn’t it?”
“It sure is,” I say, my chest swelling.
And she’s right.
This team—these women, these friendships, these chaotic hockey nights full of nerves and joy—they’re my family. I didn’t grow up with one of my own. For so long, the only person I ever considered family was Anna.
But now… now I have this big, wild, supportive, loving group wrapped around me like a net I never knew I needed.
And it’s incredible.