Chapter 26 #2
I spotted Cam during warm-ups, his golden-brown hair visible beneath his helmet as he circled the ice with familiar grace. My eyes found him instantly – my number 22, moving with purpose, focused and intent.
When the teams lined up for the national anthem, Cam glanced over to where I stood. Even from this distance, I could see his smile. I touched the sapphire ring, our private signal. His smile widened before he turned his attention back to the ice.
The first period was fast and physical, Pittsburgh dominating early.
Mike "The Vike" lived up to his reputation, scoring on a breakaway that left our defense looking flat-footed.
As he glided past the Slashers' bench, he struck his hockey stick against the boards, his thick auburn beard billowing with the motion.
"Tell your captain to keep his head up tonight," he called to Cam with a smirk.
Cam just gave him an easy smile – the kind that used to make me nervous because it usually preceded him throwing a punch. But tonight, he simply nodded and said something I couldn't hear.
"I swear to God," said Reaper to no one in particular. "I'd give up a year of playing professionally if I could have that glorious fucking beard."
The Slashers fought back, with Logan netting a power-play goal to tie it up, only for Pittsburgh to score again in the final minute of the period.
During the intermission, I checked in with Katie, who was monitoring social media from the press box.
"Mentions of Cam are through the roof," she reported. "Everyone's watching him tonight."
"And the Redline announcement?" We'd timed the press release about Cam's sneaker deal to drop during the first intermission.
"Already trending. Lots of positive buzz. Oh, and Marcus just forwarded an email from Sports Business Journal – they're calling you 'the PR mastermind who turned a potential scandal into the feel-good story of the season.'"
I couldn't help the proud smile that spread across my face.
After everything we'd been through, my professional reputation wasn't just intact – it was enhanced.
I headed up to the VIP box to sit with my mom and dad, Coco, and some of the other WAGs.
The moment I stepped through the door, I was engulfed in a flurry of hugs and congratulations.
Mom pulled me into a tight embrace, her familiar perfume wrapping around me like a warm blanket.
"I knew it would all work out," she whispered, her eyes shining with pride and maybe a few unshed tears. "You two are perfect for each other – I've known it since the moment he walked into our home."
Dad, never one for excessive displays of emotion, gave me a gruff but heartfelt hug.
"The Slashers have a solid chance at winning the Cup again with Cam staying on," he said, his voice thick with approval.
"And I'm proud of you, honey. The way you handled everything – pure Decker grit.
" He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Cam's officially part of Team Decker now, whether he likes it or not. "
"I think he likes it," I said softly, as my dad nodded knowingly.
Coco bounced over, her enthusiasm infectious as always. "So are you coming to the team celebration after? Logan says everyone's riding high after the trade news and your press conference love fest."
Before I could answer, the Redline executives approached, their faces beaming with corporate delight.
"Lana, we can't thank you enough," the marketing VP gushed, shaking my hand vigorously.
"This whole situation has generated more authentic engagement than our last three campaigns combined.
We're absolutely thrilled about working with both you and Cam moving forward. "
I smiled, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders. At my lowest point, I'd been ready to resign from the job I love. Now, I was surrounded by support, love, and the promise of something real with the man I'd been denying my feelings for all these years.
The second period started with Pittsburgh still leading 2-1.
Cam seemed more focused, his skating more fluid, his passes sharper.
Midway through the period, he set up Pietro for a beautiful goal that tied the game again.
The crowd erupted, and as Pietro celebrated with the team, Cam pointed up to where I stood, making my heart skip.
Then, disaster struck. A controversial call sent Zayne to the penalty box for tripping, and during the ensuing power play, Pittsburgh scored again. 3-2, with momentum slipping away.
As the period wound down, the tension in the arena was palpable. The Slashers needed something – a spark, a game-changer. No better time for my surprise.
I texted Marty in the broadcast control room. During a TV timeout, the arena's giant screens showed fans in the stands, as they always did. Stadium cameras panned across sections, catching people dancing, cheering, holding signs. When the camera suddenly swung to me, I was ready.
With a deep breath and a silent prayer that I wasn't about to embarrass myself to an unrecoverable degree, I stood up right next to the glass and slowly opened my blazer to reveal the "PUCK DADDY" t-shirt underneath.
And there I was, back on the Jumbotron.
The crowd went wild. Gasps, then cheers, then full-on roaring laughter and applause. On the bench, players turned to see what the commotion was about. And there was Cam, head thrown back in laughter when he saw the shirt, eyes bright with surprise and delight.
Katie, who stopped by the box to get my signoff on media credentials for a late-arriving features reporter, stopped dead in her tracks, mouth open in shock before dissolving into giggles.
"Oh my god," she whispered. "Is this the same Lana Decker who once made me change my shoes because they were too 'casual professional' for a game?"
I shrugged, unable to stop smiling. "People change."
"For the better," she said, giving me a quick hug before hurrying off.
The moment lasted only seconds before the camera moved on, but the energy in the arena had shifted completely.
The crowd started chanting PUCK DADDY! PUCK DADDY! PUCK DADDY! and as play resumed, the Slashers skated with renewed purpose. By the end of the second period, Zayne had scored on a slap shot from the blue line, tying the game 3-3.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer's voice boomed during the second intermission, "tonight's attendance is a season-high 19,257! And I think we all know they're here to see if our PR director has any more surprises up her sleeve!"
I blushed as several people nearby gave me thumbs-up or knowing smiles. Hockey was serious business, and I'd always maintained the utmost professionalism at games. But tonight was different. Tonight was about celebration, redemption, and yes – a little bit of fun.
The third period was a battle of wills. Neither team gave an inch, both goalies making spectacular saves. With two minutes left in regulation, Coach Sully called a timeout, gathering the team around him at the bench.
I couldn't hear what was said, but when the players returned to the ice, there was a different energy about them. Cam, especially, seemed to radiate intensity. His eyes focused in that way that made me think of a predator tracking its prey.
With just forty seconds left on the clock, Logan won a face-off in the Penguins' zone, sliding the puck back to Zayne, who fired a pass to Cam positioned near the right circle. What happened next unfolded like a movie scene.
Cam received the puck, deked around one defender, then another. The Penguins' goalie slid to the near post, anticipating the shot, but Cam hesitated – just a fraction of a second – before firing the puck into the top corner of the net.
Goal.
The arena exploded. 4-3 Slashers, with thirty-one seconds remaining.
"What a goal by Cameron Murphy!" the play-by-play announcer shouted over the roar of the crowd.
His color commentator chimed in, "Looks like someone's found their center off the ice, too. That engagement ring might be the best equipment upgrade of the season."
Cam's teammates mobbed him, a tangle of teal jerseys and sticks raised in triumph. When he emerged from the pile, he skated to the glass directly in front of where I stood, pounding the logo on his chest twice before blowing me a kiss.
I caught it, pressing my hand to my heart, not caring who saw or what they thought. This was our moment – real, unscripted, and perfect.
The final half-minute was a blur of defensive plays and cleared pucks, and when the horn sounded, sealing the Slashers' victory, the celebration was deafening.
In the post-game media scrum, reporters crowded around Cam, microphones thrust toward him as camera lights bathed him in artificial brightness.
"Cam, great game," one reporter said. "What's changed in your approach?"
Cam, still in his jersey, sweat dampening his hair, smiled. "I'm just playing like I'm home. When you're with the people who matter – your team, your family – everything becomes clearer. The ice feels right. The puck feels right. I'm just... right where I belong."
A reporter from Hockey Night asked, "Your decision to stay with the Slashers despite Montreal's significant offer has surprised many. Was that decision influenced by your relationship with Lana Decker?"
I watched his eyes on the TV screen in the VIP box. "Lana is the most important person in my life. So yes, she was a factor. But so were my teammates, the organization, and the city of St. Pete. This is home. And I just finally realized that home is worth a lot more to me than a bigger paycheck."
After the interviews, after the showers and changed clothes, the team gathered at Ocean Prime – a team tradition after important victories. In a private room with views of the bay, players, coaches, and staff celebrated not just tonight's win, but the journey of the past week.
Logan raised a glass, the captain's voice cutting through the chatter. "To the Slashers – and to Cam & Lana who FINALLY figured out what the rest of us have been seeing all along."
"The Slashers," everyone echoed.
As the night wore on, I found myself sitting beside Zayne, who had been uncharacteristically quiet.
"You okay?" I asked, bumping his shoulder gently with mine.
He nodded, watching Cam across the room, deep in conversation with Coach Rocco. "Yeah. Just thinking."
"About?"
"How things change." He turned to look at me directly. "For the better, I mean."
I smiled, warmed by the rare openness in my brother's expression. "They do. Sometimes when you least expect it."
Zayne sipped his beer. "You know, when I first saw you two at the NHL awards, I was ready to kill him. More than a decade of friendship, and I was ready to throw it all away."
"I remember," I said dryly.
"But watching you two together – it's different than what I thought. He's different with you." Zayne set his beer down with surprising gentleness. "He loves you. Not just saying it. I can see it."
"I love him too," I said softly.
"I know." Zayne's lips twitched in what might have been a smile. "And as weird as it is to say, you both deserve this. To be happy. Together."
Before I could respond to this shocking and unprecedented display of emotional openness from my brother, Cam appeared beside us, sliding an arm around my waist.
"Everything okay here?" he asked, looking between us with slight concern.
"Fine," Zayne said, resuming his usual gruff demeanor. "Just telling Lana that you better make me best man. And I guess I'm going to need a date for the wedding."
Cam's eyebrows shot up, and I felt my cheeks warm. "The wedding?"
Zayne stood, patting Cam's shoulder. "Don't play dumb, Murphy. We all know where this is heading." He gestured vaguely at my ring. "Just don't rush her, okay? And if you do anything stupid…
“...you’ll bury me in the equipment shed,” Cam finished his sentence. “Got it.”
“Lana, I just wanted to say… I know you need one of the guys to do an interview with that writer, Shelby. So…I just wanted to, uh, tell you…I’m good to help out. If you want.”
“Thanks, Zayne,” I replied. Stunned.
With that parting shot, Zayne wandered off to join Logan and Pietro, leaving Cam and me shocked and amused.
"Did my brother just give us his blessing?" I asked incredulously.
"I think he did." Cam pulled me closer. "And threatened my life in the same breath. Classic Zayne."
“And, am I crazy or did he just volunteer to do an interview with a romance author? Without me even asking him?”
“Yes, yes he did,” Cam grinned, taking a sip of his drink.
Later, as we stood on the restaurant's terrace, the night air warm and salt-tinged from the bay, Cam wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder.
"So," he said, his voice low and intimate in my ear. "Puck Daddy, huh?"
I laughed, leaning back against him. "Well, you know how much I love the pet names..."
"I loved it, Cupcake Queen" he said, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Almost as much as I love you."
I turned in his arms to face him, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw. "You were amazing tonight. On the ice. With the press. With my brother."
"I had good motivation." His hands settled at my waist, warm and steady. "I'm playing for more than just the win now. I'm playing for us. For our future."
The word future stretched out between us, full of promise and possibility. Marriage. A home. Weekends at the beach house with my extended family. Maybe someday, a family of our own. I held the sapphire ring on my finger, no longer a prop but a promise.
"Our future," I repeated softly. "I kinda like the sound of that."
Cam's smile – that devastating, heart-stopping smile that had been my undoing from the very beginning – spread slowly across his face.
"Me too," he said, before closing the distance between us with a kiss that felt like... well, like coming home.