39. Maddie
Maddie
I have absolutely no idea what has come over me.
None. Ten minutes ago I was standing at the hotel window talking about how happy I am.
Now I am in the back of an Uber speeding down the Las Vegas Strip with the man I love beside me because apparently I decided getting engaged wasn’t enough chaos for one evening.
We are getting married. Tonight. The thought should terrify me. Should make me feel reckless or impulsive or at the very least wildly irresponsible.
Instead it feels…right.
So right that I can’t even picture us going back to that hotel and just going to sleep like normal people after this.
Dean has been trying to talk me out of it since the elevator. Not aggressively. Not because he doesn’t want it. Because he does. I know he does. I can see it every time his fingers tighten around mine like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he loosens his grip.
Every time he looks at me with that overwhelmed, disbelieving expression like he still can’t believe I said yes. He wants this. He just thinks I deserve some sweeping fairytale version of it.
Candles. A ring. A ballroom. A hundred rose petals or whatever Pinterest tells men women want.
He doesn’t understand that none of that matters to me. Because how could anything possibly be more romantic than this?
Than a man loving me so fiercely he blurts out forever because the thought of any other future doesn’t make sense anymore?
“Maddie.” I glance over. Dean is rubbing one hand down his face for what has to be the fiftieth time in the last fifteen minutes. “We can still turn this Uber around.”
I smile. “No.”
His jaw flexes. “Baby, this is insane.”
“Mmhm.”
“You are agreeing with me and still not stopping.”
I shrug.
He exhales sharply and looks out the window at the neon blur passing us. “We could do this properly.”
“We are doing this properly.”
He turns back to me. “With no ring?”
I hold up my left hand. “We could get tattoos.” That earns me a glare.
I grin wider.
“With no family?” he tries again.
I soften a little at that because I know this is the one thing that genuinely bothers him. I squeeze his hand.
“We will do family later. Big vows. Fancy pictures. Whatever you want.”
His brows lift. “Whatever I want?”
“Yes.”
He narrows his eyes. “That feels like a trap.”
“It probably is.”
Despite himself, his mouth twitches. There he is. The man secretly just as crazy as I am.
I lean over and kiss his cheek. “You want this too.”
His fingers lace tighter through mine. “That doesn’t mean I’m okay with you waking up tomorrow and realizing I let you marry me in the middle of a manic Vegas episode.”
I laugh. “Dean, I have never been more sane.”
He mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like that’s what worries me.
The Uber pulls in front of a tiny white chapel glowing under strings of lights. Of course it does. It looks exactly like every impulsive movie wedding I’ve ever made fun of.
I love it instantly.
Dean pays the driver while still looking mildly panicked, then follows me out with his hand wrapped around mine like if I’m doing this he at least gets to physically stay attached.
Inside, the receptionist beams at us.
“Marriage license?”
Dean slides it across the counter. Thank God one of us thought ahead enough to grab that from the little courthouse desk in the front lobby.
The woman glances between us and smiles knowingly. “Wonderful. Do you have your witnesses?”
I blink. My smile falls. “Our… what?”
“Two witnesses.”
I stare at her. Dean stares at me.
I slowly turn toward him. “I did not think of that.”
He closes his eyes briefly like he expected this level of chaos. Before either of us can answer, the side chapel door opens and another couple steps out.
The bride is stunning in a long white fitted dress, bouquet still in hand, mascara a little smudged from happy tears. Her new husband has one arm around her while they laugh about something.
Dean takes one look at the bride. Then looks down at me. Then at the oversized Mustang t-shirt hanging almost to my knees.
His hand tightens around mine and suddenly he’s tugging me toward the exit. “Nope.”
I stumble after him. “What? Dean!”
He keeps moving. “No, Baby. We are doing this right. You are not getting married in my shirt.”
I yank my hand free, planting my feet. He turns back.
I cross my arms. “You need me in a white dress?”
His expression softens so fast it nearly melts me. He steps back to me, cups my face in both hands, and looks at me like there is no one else in the building.
“Of course not,” he says quietly. “I would marry you in a potato sack and you would still be the most beautiful girl in the room.”
My heart actually squeezes. Hard. I smile before I can stop it.
Behind us, the bride lets out a little laugh. We both turn.
She lifts her bouquet slightly. “We forgot witnesses too,” she says. “Had to drag two strangers in from the sidewalk.”
Her husband grins. “We can stay.”
I look at Dean. Dean looks at me. His shoulders fall in that resigned, deeply in love way I am becoming obsessed with. This is happening. He reaches for my hand again. And this time—neither of us tries to stop it.
The little chapel is somehow both exactly what I expected and nothing like I expected. Small. Warm. Soft lights glowing against cream-colored walls. Fake flowers lining the front. A tiny arch that probably hosts a hundred impulsive love stories a year.
It should feel silly. It should feel rushed. Instead it feels sacred.
Dean’s hand has not left mine once. Not while we signed the final paper.
Not while the sweet older woman officiating introduced herself.
Not while the newly married couple took their places off to the side smiling like they’ve been waiting their whole lives to witness strangers make reckless romantic decisions.
Dean stands across from me now. My hands tucked into his. His thumbs rubbing slow circles over my knuckles. His eyes haven’t left my face. Neither have mine.
The officiant smiles gently. “Would you like to exchange personal vows?”
Dean and I both answer at the same time. “Yes.”
We blink at each other. I laugh softly. Of course we do.
The officiant nods toward Dean first. He exhales. Long. Like he is trying to gather every feeling he has ever had into something that makes sense out loud.
Then his fingers tighten around mine. And he begins.
“Maddie.” Just my name. But the way he says it has my eyes burning already.
“I didn’t have a speech planned.” A tiny smile touches his mouth. “Clearly. Because if I had planned this, I would’ve done it somewhere with candles and flowers and a ring that cost me a small fortune.”
A watery laugh escapes me. His expression shifts back serious.
“But maybe this is better.” His thumbs brush my skin. “Because nothing about you ever let me prepare.”
My breath catches. “You showed up in my life loud and stubborn and impossible to ignore, and before I knew what was happening…” He shakes his head once, smiling to himself. “You were in everything.”
Tears blur my vision.
“In my mornings when I started looking for your car before I even got out of mine. In my practices when I caught myself searching the stands for you instead of the puck. In my nights when sleep stopped making sense unless you were in my arms.”
My throat tightens painfully. Dean steps closer. Not enough to break protocol. Enough that I can feel his heat.
“I have spent a lot of my life thinking my job was to protect people,” he says, voice lower now. “My players. My team. The things that are mine.”
His jaw flexes. “And then you happened.”
A tear slips down my cheek. His eyes follow it.
“I learned real damn fast that protecting you isn’t a job.” He swallows. “It is the air in my lungs. It is instinct. It is who I am now.”
Oh God. Oh God.
His own eyes shine. “I vow that there will never be a day on this earth that you wonder if you are facing something alone.”
My breathing stutters. “Because if life gets ugly, I will stand in front of it.” Another tear falls. “If you get scared, I will be the place you run.” My lips tremble. “If your heart ever forgets how loved it is, I will remind it until my last breath.”
The room is silent except for my crying. Dean’s voice roughens.
“I vow to love you out loud, Maddie.”
My hand flies to my mouth. He keeps going.
“In every room. In every city. In every hard season and every easy one. I will love you where everyone can see it and where only you can feel it.”
I am openly sobbing now. He gives me the smallest broken smile.
“I vow that no matter how many years we get, no matter how old and mean and gray I become, you will still be the first thing I reach for in the morning and the last thing I thank God for at night.”
A strangled sound leaves me.
“And I vow,” he whispers, squeezing my hands, “that this”—his eyes lock with mine—“this right here will be the safest place you ever know.”
I cannot breathe. Cannot see through the tears. Cannot comprehend how this man is real. Dean leans in the tiniest bit more.
“I loved you before I had the courage to say it,” he murmurs. “I will love you long after I no longer have words for it.”
Silence swallows the room. The officiant dabs at her own eyes. The bride beside us is crying.
Her husband is pretending not to. And I—I am ruined.
Dean lifts one hand, wiping under my eyes with his thumb. “Your turn, Baby.”
A wet laugh escapes me. “How am I supposed to follow that?”
His smile turns soft. “Just tell me the truth.”
The truth. I can do that. I inhale shakily. Look at the man in front of me.
My husband in a few minutes. And speak from the place in me that spent years convinced love was supposed to hurt.
“Dean…” My voice breaks. I start again.
“Dean. Before you, I thought loving someone meant learning how to make yourself smaller.”
His face tightens. I squeeze his hands.
“I thought it meant staying quiet when things felt wrong. I thought it meant accepting half-love because asking for full love felt greedy.”
Tears slide faster now.
“I taught myself how to survive disappointment so many times that eventually I stopped believing there was anything else.”
His thumbs brush over my knuckles. Steady. Grounding.
“Then you loved me.”
His eyes close briefly. I keep going because if I stop I won’t finish.
“You loved me in a way that didn’t ask me to shrink.” My voice trembles. “You loved me in a way that made me feel seen even in the pieces I wanted to hide.”
I smile through tears. “You kicked down doors for me.” A tiny laugh ripples through the room. “You made hotel walls disappear because you couldn’t stand being too far away.”
Dean huffs a wet laugh.
“You made me realize that being cared for doesn’t make me weak. Being protected doesn’t make me a burden. Being loved loudly doesn’t make me hard to hold.”
My chest aches. I look straight into his eyes. “You are proof that the wrong love was never the end of my story.”
Dean’s breath catches. I press on.
“You are proof that there is a man out there who will not ask me to beg for softness.”
The bride fully sobs beside us now.
“You are proof that the things I thought were broken in me were really just waiting for the right hands.”
Dean’s eyes flood. And mine do too.
“But this can’t only be about what you give me,” I whisper, tightening my hold on him. “Because loving you is the easiest thing I have ever done.”
His brows pull together slightly, like that catches him off guard.
“I love every side of you, Dean.” My tears spill harder. “I love the coach who carries an entire team on his shoulders and still somehow thinks he should have carried more.”
His jaw clenches.
“I love the protective man who would tear down buildings just to make sure I’m safe.”
His forehead almost tips toward mine.
“I love the grumpy, overthinking, bossy man who thinks every moment has to be perfect when all I ever wanted was him.”
That earns the smallest shaky laugh from him.
“And I love the quiet version of you,” I whisper. “The one only I get. The one that holds me in the dark like I am something precious.”
A tear slides down his face. I reach up and wipe it away with my thumb.
“I vow to love all of it.” My voice trembles but stays strong. “The heavy days. The hard losses. The nights you think you failed someone. The moments you forget that you are allowed to put your own heart down and rest.”
His breathing is wrecked now.
“I vow to be your safe place too.” That one breaks him. His eyes squeeze shut. I keep going.
“I vow to love you when you are fierce and when you are tired. When you are certain and when you are doubting. When the whole world wants Coach Dean…” my smile wobbles, “…and when you just need to be mine.”
A soft cry leaves the bride. Dean laughs through tears.
“I vow that you will never carry life alone again either.” I squeeze his hands tighter. “Because you taught me what home feels like, and I plan to spend the rest of my life making sure you feel it too.”
My lips tremble.
“And I vow to choose this kind of love every single day. The kind that feels safe. The kind that feels warm. The kind that feels like home instead of war.”
I am crying too hard to care now.
“I vow to spend the rest of my life reminding every scared version of me that she made it.” I smile through tears. “She made it to you.”
His forehead drops to mine. I hear the officiant sniffle. And somewhere far away Las Vegas is still glittering outside.
But in here—in this tiny chapel—I know one thing with absolute certainty.
Happy endings are real.
And mine is holding my hands.