Chapter Thirty
Kendall
The locker room smells like hairspray and champagne. Not the typical odor I’m used to.
I stand in front of the full-length mirror someone dragged in from God knows where, staring at a version of myself I barely recognize.
The dress is soft ivory, simple and elegant, with lace sleeves that end just above my elbows and a neckline that dips low enough to be interesting without being scandalous.
The fabric drapes over my belly in gentle folds, making no attempt to hide the curve of Niko beneath it.
I look pregnant.
I look beautiful.
I look terrified.
"Stop fidgeting," Vivi says, appearing behind me with a curling iron in one hand and a champagne flute in the other. "You're going to mess up Isla's work."
"I'm not fidgeting," I protest, even though my hands are definitely fidgeting with the hem of my dress.
"You are," Isla confirms from her spot on the bench, where she's organizing bobby pins with the precision of a surgeon. "You've been messing with that dress for five minutes."
"That's because I'm about to get married on center ice in front of eighteen thousand people," I say, my voice rising slightly. "I think I'm entitled to a little fidgeting."
Peyton appears at my elbow, makeup brush in hand, eyes sharp. "You're not getting cold feet, are you?"
"No," I say quickly. Too quickly. There are no cold feet when it comes to marrying Aleksi. I would have gone straight to the courthouse after the hearing with the board, but I’m glad we’re doing it this way.
Leena and Saara will be able to watch and the fans get to be a part of our story, like they always have been… the whole team is standing up with us as witnesses.
Cammy arches a brow. "Because if you are, we'll have to explain to Aleksi why his bride ran away in figure skates."
I laugh despite myself, the sound breaking through the tightness in my chest. "I'm not running. I'm just… processing. And besides, the red carpets they are laying out means I can wear heels without a problem.”
"Processing what?" Vivi asks, setting the curling iron down and turning me to face her.
"That you're about to marry the man who literally proposed to you in front of the medical board?
The man who bought you a house before you even admitted you loved him?
The man who's been waiting for this moment since the day you met? "
My throat tightens. "When you put it like that…"
"You’d be crazy if you're not out there in five minutes," Peyton finishes, grinning.
The door swings open and Juliet Haynes, Coach Haynes' wife, sweeps in, clipboard in hand, ear piece in perfect placement, eyes sharp with the kind of organizational efficiency that makes an entire last minute celebrity wedding bow to her will. And now she’s doing ours… on ice.
"Ladies," she says, clapping her hands together. "We've got nine minutes before the second intermission. Let's make this count."
She surveys the room with the practiced eye of a general inspecting troops, then nods approvingly. "Vivi, finish her hair. Isla, get the veil. Peyton, fix her lashes—she's been crying. Cammy, you're on champagne duty. Everyone else, clear the staging area."
The room erupts into controlled chaos, the girls moving with synchronized precision.
Vivi attacks my hair with the curling iron, creating soft waves that cascade over my shoulders.
Isla pins the veil—a simple cathedral-length tulle that catches the light like starlight—into place with gentle hands.
Peyton dabs at my eyes with a tissue, muttering something about waterproof mascara being a lie.
"You look perfect," Vivi says softly, stepping back to admire her work. "He's going to lose his mind."
I turn back to the mirror, and for a second, I don't see the scared woman who spent months running from this moment. I see a bride. A mother-to-be. A woman who's about to marry the man who made her believe in second chances.
"Okay," I whisper, pressing a hand to my belly. "We can do this."
A little while later, Juliet peeks through the curtain separating us from the tunnel. "They're about to make the announcement."
The arena noise hums in the distance, thousands of voices layered into a low roar. Then it drops, the announcer's voice booms through the speakers.
"Ladies and gentlemen, during this intermission, the Seattle Hawkeyes have something special for you…"
My heart hammers. Vivi squeezes my hand. Isla presses a tissue into my palm just in case.
The announcer continues: "Please stay in your seats as we celebrate the marriage of Dr. Kendall Hensen and right winger Aleksi M?kelin!"
The crowd explodes.
Cheers. Whistles. Applause so loud it shakes the walls. Through the curtain, I can see the Jumbotron glowing with a massive Hawkeyes crest overlaid with two interlocked wedding rings.
My hand flies to my mouth, half-laughing, half-crying.
"Guess the secret's out," Vivi says, her eyes shining.
Juliet grins, holding the curtain wider. "Ready to get married on the ice, Dr. M?kelin?"
The name lands warm and strange and right.
"Ready," I whisper.
The Zamboni doors swing open, and the players glide onto the ice—not in jerseys, but in black tuxedos, skates gleaming under the spotlights. They form two perfect lines flanking a long red carpet that stretches from the tunnel to center ice.
At the end, beneath a white arch strung with fairy lights and Hawkeyes-blue roses, Aleksi waits.
And I can't breathe.
"Ready?" Isla asks softly.
I nod. "Let's do this."
The music swells—a cinematic orchestral version of the song that played in that Nevada bar before the storm, before the motel, before everything changed.
The girls walk first, arm in arm with their husbands: Isla and Kaenan, Vivi and Trey, Peyton and Hunter, Cammy and JP. They all walk down the red carpet with Penelope standing at the end with Aleksi, the crowd roaring as each couple passes.
Penelope got her officiant license so that she could marry us on her ice.
Then it's my turn.
I step onto the red carpet, and the world tilts.
The crowd rises to its feet—eighteen thousand people standing, cheering, phones flashing like a galaxy of stars. The noise is deafening, overwhelming, yet beautiful.
But I don't hear it.
Because across the rink, Aleksi is watching me.
His eyes are locked on mine, his expression open and raw and trembling with something that looks like he's holding back tears. He's in a perfectly fitted tux, hair slicked back, hands clasped in front of him like he's afraid if he moves, he'll wake up and this will all be a dream.
He looks at me like I'm his whole world.
I start walking, slow and careful, and with each step, the fear melts away. The headlines, the board, the months of silence and distance and doubt… all of it fades until there's only him.
Only us.
The fairy lights glow above us. The ice glitters beneath my feet. And when I reach him, his hand extends—steady and ready… exactly where it's always been.
I take it, and the world exhales.
Aleksi
The moment she steps onto the ice, the world feels like it stops moving.
The crowd is still roaring, the players are still lining the carpet, the cameras are still flashing—but for me, everything narrows to her.
Kendall.
In ivory and lace, her belly gently rounded, her veil catching the light like she's wrapped in starlight.
"Holy shit," I whisper to Trey beside me.
He elbows me, grinning. "You good, man?"
My voice cracks. "Never been better."
Because it's true.
Every hit I've taken, every season I fought to stay in, every night I spent wondering if I'd ever find something bigger than hockey—it all led here. To her. To this moment.
She reaches the arch, and I step forward, taking her hands in mine.
"Hi," she whispers, smiling through tears.
"Hi, Doc."
Penelope clears his throat, and the crowd quiets—thousands of people holding their breath as he begins.
"Do you, Aleksi M?kelin, take Dr. Kendall Hensen—"
"Always have," I say before he can finish.
The crowd erupts in laughter and cheers. Kendall's smile breaks wide, and I grin back at her, unable to stop.
Penelope chuckles, shaking his head. "Well then. Dr. Hensen, your vows?"
She takes a shaky breath, her hands tightening around mine.
"You were the calm in the chaos, Aleksi," she says, her voice trembling but steady. "The light I didn't know I needed. You taught me that being strong doesn't mean being alone. That love isn't something to survive—it's something to live for."
My throat closes. I blink fast, trying to keep it together.
"Your turn," she whispers, smiling.
I clear my throat, searching for the words I've been rehearsing for weeks. But when I open my mouth, what comes out is simpler. Truer.
"You were written in my stars before I knew how to read them. You gave me a home before I ever bought one. You gave me a family before I knew I needed one. And you made me believe that the best things in life are the ones you don't see coming."
She laughs through tears. "You still talk too much."
"You still boss me around."
"Perfect match, then."
Penelope grins. "By the authority vested in me by the State of Washington—and the Seattle Hawkeyes PR department—I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."
I pull her close, one hand cradling her face, the other resting gently over Niko. And I kiss her like it's every overtime goal I've ever dreamed of, every miracle I've ever prayed for, every star I've ever wished on.
The crowd erupts… a full-stadium roar, streamers shooting, rose petals and Finnish candy raining from the rafters.
The announcer's voice booms: "Ladies and gentlemen… Mr. and Mrs. M?kelin!"
We break apart, breathless and laughing, and the team rushes in—helmets off, tuxes on, mobbing us with backslaps and bear hugs.
Juliet's crew wheels out a three-tier cake shaped like a hockey puck, "Forever On Ice" piped in blue frosting across the top.
I slip my arm around her waist, my other hand resting over Niko. Flashbulbs explode. The ice glitters beneath our feet. The crowd chants our names.
This time, the world isn't watching to tear us apart. It's watching us begin.
Kendall leans up, whispers against my ear, "You ready to kick ass on the last period?"
I grin, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I’ve never been more ready for anything."
The scoreboard glows above us in soft script:
"Some stars belong on the ice."
And for the first time since I met her, I know that we're exactly where we're supposed to be.