Chapter 24
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
GUNNER
I can without a doubt say that I have never wanted anything more than I want this win. This isn’t just a game. It’s the determining game in the Stanley Cup finals, but it’s more than that. This feels like the culmination of everything I’ve worked for my entire life.
It proves that all the blood, sweat, and sacrifice have meant something. That all that I lost has meant something. Happiness is at the tip of my fingertips. It seems that at thirty-three years old, my life is finally taking shape. I’m in my first serious relationship with the girl of my dreams. I feel content and at ease within my soul for the first time. Every time I’ve stepped on the ice, I’ve worn my mother’s birthdate on my chest. Since I was eighteen years old, she’s been here with me, and all these years later, I’m so close to the ultimate victory.
This shadow has always hovered over me, darkening my life. As much as I’ve tried, I’ve never been able to break free of it. At this moment, the light beyond—the freedom, the life, the girl are all within my reach. More than that, the forgiveness and acceptance of things I cannot change swell within my chest.
Maybe it’s silly to think that the outcome of a hockey game holds any real significance over my life. But to me—it just does. It’s not just a game. It’s my life, and I’m ready to win.
It also seems fitting that this pivotal game in my life is against the Vancouver team that in a very real way was the catalyst for this shift. Vancouver started it all. It gave me Penny, and through her, I felt what it meant to live and feel and love.
No, the loss of this game wouldn’t mean the end of my current state of happiness, but a win would bring me a level of closure that I’ve been craving. Absentmindedly, my gloved hand taps the twenty-nine on my chest.
This is for you, Mom.
My gaze darts to the stands, where Penny wears a pair of tight jeans and my number twenty-nine jersey on her chest. Her long curls bounce as she jumps up and down, cheering. I’ve loved two women in my life. Only two. And I’ve loved them with everything I am.
The game is tied at two. These final seconds will determine everything. This is our chance. Vancouver is in possession now, and their hotshot center works the puck across the ice. I take in every move and every glance. Hockey is a dance of not only the body but also the mind. There’s an art to the way the puck slides across the ice. The players’ bodies lean to this side or that, hinting at their next move. Minute clues can be found in their glances and the angles of their sticks. Every good player tries to hide them, but there are always tells if one looks hard enough.
My job is to find them. To know where the puck is going to go before it’s shot. I’m fast, but a well-shot puck is faster. If I want to stop it, I have to know where it’s going.
I study the movements as the players speed down the ice. There’s enough time for each team to have one more possession before the clock runs out. This puck can’t get through, or in the best-case scenario, we tie.
No, this has to end now.
This is our time.
Our team has fought for this.
The Vancouver center and forward pass the puck in a well-rehearsed display. They’re good—I’ll give ’em that—but they’re not us.
Their right forward flicks his eyes to the left corner of the net. The look happens so fast that I’m not positive it happened at all, but I trust my instincts. Their center fakes a pass to the left, pulling our guard’s attention, and slaps the puck to the right forward. Without a moment’s hesitation, he hits the puck toward the far left corner of the net. The puck whizzes through the space between us. Before it was hit, however, I was already diving in that direction, and my gloved hand hits the puck back onto the ice.
The hometown crowd roars. The entire area shakes in celebration, and with my part done, my teammates take over. Cade and Beckett lock in as only the two of them can. The seconds tick by. There’s a pass to Beckett, a quick maneuver on his part, and then he’s slapping the puck toward the net of the Vancouver goalie. Only, this time, it goes in, and the buzzer sounds.
We’ve won!
Chaos erupts as the entire area explodes in celebration.
A blur of navy-and-white jerseys charge to the center of the ice. I holler and join the huddle of celebration. We’re a collection of cheers, hugs, tears, and genuine smiles.
We’re Stanley Cup champions. We did it. These men are more than teammates. They’re family, and winning with them makes it that much more sweet.
Beckett holds the metal cup over his head and skates around the ice.
This is the best moment of my life.
The enthusiastic celebration ensues as my teammates hop around in a huddle cheering.
Time passes in a blur but slows to a halt when I see her standing by the penalty box. I skate over and pull Penny into my arms. Her warmth and sweet smell do something to my emotional resolve, and tears flow as I hold her in my arms.
“You did it, babe. I’m so proud of you. So very proud. You deserve this, Gunner. I’m so happy for you.” Her voice shakes as she cries. She hugs me back with a fierce intensity, and I feel nothing but love.
“I love you, Pen.”
“I love you. I’m just so happy for you.”
“Thank you for being here. Thank you for loving me.” The words, raw and full of emotion, fall from my lips, but I don’t try to stop them. I want her to know. “This wouldn’t be the same without you.” I hold my gloved hand against my chest. “The twenty-ninth is my mom’s birthday. I want you to know that I’m all in. With you. Forever.”
The most beautiful smile crosses her face, and she cradles my face in her hands. “You should win the Stanley Cup more often,” she teases. “And I know. Forever.” She pulls my face to hers, and I kiss her with everything I have.
The team parties late into the night. The bar is packed with navy-and-white jerseys, cheers, and smiles. It’s been way too long since this organization has brought home the Cup. These fans deserve this win. This team deserves this win. These men, my family… we’ve worked so hard—training longer and harder than any other team out there—it feels so good.
The only person missing from this celebration is Beckett, and I wish he were here, especially given how much he’s given to this team and his amazing shot that won us the game. But he’s at the hospital welcoming his firstborn into the world, and that’s pretty epic. It doesn’t get better than becoming a Stanley Cup winner and a father on the same day.
I want to take this energy and pure joy and bottle it up. It’s intoxicating.
Looking to my side, I see Penny. She’s stunning in my jersey, with form-fitting jeans that hug her every curve and black-heeled boots. Her red curls bounce against her back, and she dances with Iris. And the smile she wears is my undoing. Penny, with her pulled-back hair, business suit, and scowl, is beautiful. This Penny—the one exuding nothing but happiness—is drop-dead gorgeous.
Only one thing can make this night better, and I can’t wait another second.
I close the distance between us and lean into her ear. “You ready?”
“Sure! Are you? Have you celebrated enough with the guys?” she yells over the music.
I simply nod and extend my hand.
She takes it and threads her fingers through mine.
We say a round of quick goodbyes and take off for her place.
The second her front door is shut, we make quick work of removing our clothes. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one waiting for this.
Cradling her face with my hands, we kiss—hard and rough—as we stumble into her bedroom. She falls back onto the bed and spreads her legs.
I growl, desperate to feel her. With an arm on either side of her, I crawl up her body.
Penny’s moan as I slide into her wetness is the hottest sound I’ve ever heard. It drives me to the bridge of insanity, like everything about her does. Every. Fucking. Thing.
She captures my stare. Her big doe eyes hold me hostage as I thrust inside her. Her long red hair splays out on the bed as her ample tits bounce as I continue my assault. She’s a vision, and she’s mine. My fingers splay across her soft breasts, and I squeeze her nipples between my thumb and forefinger. She raises her hips, meeting me with every thrust, allowing me to go deeper. I want to explode.
We’re frantic now, our bodies pounding against each other, chasing the orgasm that we’re desperate for. Penny slides a hand between her legs, and the sight of her touching herself makes me growl loudly into the room. She whimpers and cries out as her body starts to shake.
Fuck yes.
I thrust into her hard, sending her body forward, and she throws her free hand out against the bed to steady herself. Our skin slaps together. More moans. Labored breaths. Slapping skin. Desperate whimpers. Guttural sighs. Sobs of pleasure.
It’s the best symphony I’ve ever heard, and it’s ours. Only ours.
We fall over the edge together, our moans of release dancing in the heated air. My body shakes with waves of pleasure. Penny breathes heavy, her full lips parted. I fall atop her, my chest expanding, desperate for air.
I roll off her, throwing my forearm over my eyes, my body still humming from pleasure. Penny scoots toward me and kisses my chest, slick with sweat.
“That was amazing.” She sighs.
“Perfect,” I utter. “A perfect end to a perfect day.”