Chapter 20
Jack
The ice at the Frozen Four in Boston was different than the ice at Ironwood. It was harder, faster, and illuminated by lights so bright they made my head ache. Or maybe that was just the pressure.
Probably the pressure.
I sat on the bench, my chest heaving, sweat dripping from my nose onto the rubber matting. My legs felt like lead. My lungs felt like they were filled with broken glass. We had been playing for eighty minutes of brutal, high-speed collision hockey.
"Sterling!" Coach Miller’s voice cut through the noise of the arena—twenty thousand screaming fans creating a wall of sound. "You got one more shift in you?"
I looked up. Miller looked wrecked. His tie was undone, his face red. But his eyes were wild with hope.
"I got it, Coach," I rasped, standing up. My knees protested, but I ignored them. "I’m good."
I wasn't good. I was exhausted. My shoulder was throbbing from a check in the second period. My ribs still ached when I breathed too deep.
But then I looked up.
To the luxury box behind our bench.
Eloise was there. She wasn't sitting with the dignitaries this time. She was standing right against the glass, wearing my black jersey—the one I had given her after the Council meeting, the one that smelled like me.
She caught my eye. She didn't wave. She didn't smile.
She just pointed to her heart. Then she pointed to me.
You’re iron, she mouthed. You’re my wolf.
The exhaustion evaporated. The pain receded.
A fresh surge of adrenaline—hot and familiar—flooded my veins. The Wolf woke up, shaking off the fatigue, snarling in the back of my mind.
For her. Win for her.
I tapped Silas on the shin pads.
"Let’s end this," I said.
"Thought you’d never ask," Silas grinned through his mouthguard.
We vaulted over the boards.
The referee dropped the puck.
I won the faceoff. Cleanly. I slapped it back to our defenseman, then broke for the net.
The Denver defense collapsed on me. They knew who I was. They knew I was the threat. Two of them hit me at the blue line.
I didn't try to go through them. I spun.
I saw Silas streaking down the left wing.
I feathered a pass through three pairs of skates. It landed right on his tape.
Silas took it. He deked the goalie. Forehand. Backhand.
Ping.
The sound of the puck hitting the crossbar and ricocheting into the net was the sweetest sound I had ever heard.
The red light flashed. The siren wailed.
I didn't celebrate. I dropped to my knees on the ice, arms raised, roaring at the ceiling.
Silas tackled me. Then Miller. Then the entire bench emptied, burying me under a pile of sweaty, screaming bodies.
We had done it.
National Champions.
But as I lay there at the bottom of the pile, crushed under the weight of my team, I wasn't thinking about the trophy. I wasn't thinking about the pro scouts.
I was thinking about the girl in the glass box who had taught me that I didn't have to be a monster to be a king.
Eloise
The post-game celebration was chaos.
Confetti rained down like snow—gold and black. The players were skating around with the trophy, crying, hugging, screaming. The media was swarming the ice.
I stood by the Zamboni tunnel, waiting.
I wasn't allowed on the ice. NCAA rules. Security protocols.
I didn't care. I just needed to see him.
And then, the crowd parted.
Jack skated toward me.
He still had his helmet on, but the cage was up. His face was streaked with sweat and tears. He looked feral and beautiful and utterly exhausted.
He stopped at the gate. He unlatched it.
The security guard stepped forward. "Miss, you can't—"
Jack looked at the guard. He didn't growl. He just stared him down with that Alpha intensity.
"She’s with me," Jack said.
The guard stepped back.
Jack held out his hand. His glove was off. His hand was taped, battered, scarred.
I took it.
He pulled me onto the rubber matting, then lifted me up into his arms, spinning me around.
"We did it," he choked out, burying his face in my neck. He smelled terrible—sweat and ice and gear—but to me, it was the best smell in the world.
"You did it," I corrected, hugging him tight. "You were amazing."
"We," he insisted, pulling back to look at me. His eyes were shining. "You fed me. You braided my hair. You kept me sane. We did this."
He kissed me.
Right there. In front of the cameras. In front of the ESPN crew. In front of twenty thousand people.
It wasn't a tentative kiss. It was a victory kiss. Deep. Possessive. Proud.
I heard the cameras clicking. I knew this picture would be everywhere tomorrow. The Wolf and the Ice Princess Celebrate.
I didn't care.
Let them look. Let them talk.
"I love you," Jack whispered against my lips when he finally pulled back. "Now let’s get out of here. I need pizza. And I need you."
"Pizza first," I laughed. "Then you."
Jack
Three weeks later.
The campus was quiet. Finals were over. Graduation was next week.
I sat on the tailgate of my truck, parked on the bluff overlooking the town of Ironwood. The sun was setting, painting the sky in bruises of purple and orange.
Eloise sat next to me, her legs swinging. She was wearing her graduation gown—she liked to "break it in"—over jeans and a t-shirt. She looked ridiculous and perfect.
"Can you believe it’s over?" she asked, leaning her head on my shoulder.
"Four years," I murmured. "Feels like ten."
"Do you remember the first time you saw me?" she asked.
"Vividly," I said. "You were wearing that white coat. You looked like a snowflake I wasn't allowed to touch."
"And you looked like a serial killer," she laughed. "You stared at me like you wanted to eat my liver."
"I wanted to eat something else," I smirked.
She slapped my arm. "Behave. We’re being sentimental."
"Sorry." I wrapped my arm around her. "It feels like a lifetime ago. That guy... that angry, lonely guy in the locker room... he feels like a stranger."
"He was just waiting," Eloise said softly. "Waiting for someone to chop wood wrong."
I chuckled. "You still haven't fixed my form, by the way."
"I gave up. It’s part of your charm now."
We sat in silence for a while, watching the lights of the town flicker on.
"So," Eloise said, tracing the seam of my jeans. "Are we ready?"
"For what?"
"For the next part. The scary part."
I took a deep breath.
The Next Part.
It was big.
I had been drafted. Second round. By the Minnesota Wild. It wasn't far—just a few hours away. I could play pro hockey and still be close enough to the Pack to fulfill my Alpha duties on weekends.
Eloise had graduated with honors. She had turned pro too—joining a touring ice show as a soloist. It was based in Minneapolis.
We were moving in together. In two weeks.
The apartment with the fireplace. The dog (we had picked out a golden retriever puppy named Puck). The life we had dreamed about in the truck that night on the cliff.
"I’m ready," I said. "Are you?"
"Terrified," she admitted. "What if we hate living together? What if you leave wet towels on the bed? What if I steal all the covers?"
"I know you steal the covers," I said. "I’ve accepted my fate as the cold spoon."
"But seriously, Jack," she looked up at me. "Real life. Bills. Traffic. Not being the campus royalty anymore. Just... people."
"We’ll never be just people," I reminded her, kissing her temple. "We’re a pack. A pack of two. Well, three with Puck."
"A pack," she repeated, testing the word. She smiled. "I like that."
I reached into my pocket.
My hand closed around the small velvet box I had been carrying for a month.
My heart started to race. The Wolf perked up. Do it. Claim her. Forever.
"Eloise," I said. My voice sounded tight.
She looked at me. She saw the change in my expression. The seriousness.
"Jack?"
I slid off the tailgate. I stood in the dirt road, looking up at her.
"I promised you once that I wouldn't break you," I said. "I promised I’d protect you."
"You have," she whispered.
"I want to make another promise," I said.
I opened the box.
Inside was a ring. Simple. A gold band with a single, raw diamond. It looked like ice. It looked like fire.
Eloise gasped. Her hands flew to her mouth.
"I know we’re young," I said, rushing the words out because I was terrified she’d say it was too soon. "I know we have careers to build. But I can't do any of it without knowing you’re mine. Officially. Permanently."
I took a breath.
"Eloise Vance... will you be my mate? My wife? My center?"
She stared at the ring. Then at me.
Tears spilled over her cheeks.
"You’re asking me to marry a werewolf?" she choked out, laughing through the tears.
"I’m asking you to marry a man who loves you more than breathing," I corrected.
"Yes," she whispered. Then louder. "Yes! You idiot, of course yes!"
She jumped off the tailgate. I caught her mid-air.
She wrapped her legs around my waist, kissing me frantically. I buried my face in her neck, breathing in her scent—vanilla, happiness, and mine.
I slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly.
"It’s beautiful," she sobbed, looking at it.
"It reminded me of you," I said. "Strong. Bright. A little sharp."
She laughed and kissed me again.
"We’re getting married," she marveled. "My dad is going to have a stroke."
"Let him," I growled playfully. "He’s not invited anyway."
We stood there on the bluff as the sun finally disappeared, holding onto each other.
The future stretched out before us. It wouldn't be easy. There would be road games, and injuries, and pack politics, and messy apartments.
But looking at Eloise, with my ring on her finger and my jacket on her shoulders, I knew we could handle it.
Because we weren't just surviving anymore.
We were living.
And it was going to be a hell of a ride.
"Let’s go home, Alpha," she whispered in my ear.
"Let’s go home, Mrs. Alpha," I grinned.
We climbed into the truck and drove down the mountain, leaving Ironwood behind, but taking the best parts with us.
The game was over.
But the story?
The story was just getting started.