Chapter 46
Forty-Six
Tanner Brooks’ house sat on a quiet, tree-lined street just far enough from downtown that the parade noise felt like a memory instead of an echo.
The front yard was already packed when Cassie arrived—players’ trucks angled awkwardly along the curb, coolers hauled up the driveway, someone’s speaker balanced precariously on a patio chair.
The Cup was inside.
Cassie knew that without seeing it yet. You could feel it, like a gravitational pull drawing people toward the back of the house, where laughter spilled through open doors and someone yelled about needing more ice.
Luke squeezed her hand as they stepped onto the lawn.
“You good?” he asked, leaning down slightly so only she could hear.
She smiled up at him. “I’ve never been better.”
That, she realized, was true.
For the first time, she didn’t hover on the edges.
Didn’t scan for cameras. Didn’t calculate sightlines or second-guess body language.
She wasn’t here as a reporter, or a professional presence that needed to be neutral and careful.
She was here as Luke’s girlfriend. Publicly. Openly. Without apology.
Inside, the house was chaos in the best way.
Damien Morris was already barefoot, a beer in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other, telling an exaggerated story to a knot of rookies who listened like he was folklore come to life.
Caleb Zheng leaned against the kitchen counter talking animatedly with Nick Delgado gesturing with his hands as if diagramming a breakout.
Elias Johansson stood near the back door, laughing with two trainers.
Connor Martin spotted Cassie the second she came in.
“Oh my god,” he announced loudly, pointing. “She’s real. Guys, she’s actually real.”
Cassie laughed despite herself. “I was always real.”
Connor grinned, the kind of grin that had fueled half the league’s scouting reports about his swagger. “Yeah, yeah. But now I don’t have to pretend I didn’t see you two in that hotel lobby in Vancouver.”
Luke groaned. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”
“Absolutely not,” Connor said cheerfully. “For the record, I knew the whole time. I just didn’t know when I was allowed to say it without getting murdered by PR.”
Cassie shook her head, amused. “You’re insufferable.”
“An insufferable Preston Cup champion,” Connor corrected. “It’s a protected status.”
They drifted toward the back of the house together, where Tanner stood near the dining room table, the Cup resting at its center like something alive. It gleamed even in the low light, fingerprints already smudging the silver.
Tanner looked older tonight. Not tired—just softened. His kids darted in and out of the room, wearing their “Pittsburgh Renegades, Preston Cup champions” T-shirts.
When Tanner cleared his throat, the room quieted instinctively.
“I’m not going to make this long,” he said, though no one believed him. “I’ve had a lot of time to think the last few weeks. About this group. About this run. About what it took.”
He gestured vaguely around the room. “I’ve been in this league a long time. I’ve lost more than I’ve won. I’ve said ‘next year’ so many times my kids thought it was a place.”
A ripple of laughter moved through the room.
“But this—” Tanner tapped the edge of the Cup. “This was worth it. Every flight. Every bruise.”
His voice thickened, just slightly.
“This was it for me,” he said. “I promised them it’s my last. I wanted to do it right. And I wanted to do it with this room.”
He lifted his glass. “To doing hard things together.”
Glasses clinked. Someone whooped. Cassie felt Luke’s arm slide around her waist, easy and natural, and for a second she let herself just stand there and take it in.
This—this was what she’d missed while hiding. The warmth of being included. The freedom of not pretending.
Later, as the night stretched and the music grew louder, Cassie found herself on the back steps with a drink she’d barely touched, watching Luke across the yard.
He laughed freely now, shoulders loose, hair falling into his eyes as he listened to something Damien said.
He caught her looking and smiled—not careful, not restrained. Just happy.
Connor slid onto the step beside her. “You know,” he said, “I deserve credit.”
“For what?” Cassie asked.
“For not outing you two months ago. That’s maturity.”
She snorted. “That’s self-preservation.”
“Also true,” he admitted. He nodded toward Luke. “He’s different with you.”
Cassie followed his gaze. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I know.”
The night wound down slowly, like no one wanted to be the first to leave the moment behind. When Cassie and Luke finally slipped away, hands linked, she felt something settle in her chest—not anticipation, not anxiety.
Contentment.
Tomorrow, she would start something new. A new role. A new voice. A new chapter.
Tonight, she was exactly where she belonged.