40. Cal #2
Before she can protest, he grabs her wrist and drags her into the center of the room. Champagne hits her from three directions. She shrieks, laughing, trying to shield her face with her arms as the team surrounds her.
“Cash!” she yells. “I swear to God, you’re doing extra sprints for this!”
“WORTH IT!” he cackles, sprinting away before she can catch him.
I cross the room in three strides, my heavy skates clacking on the wet floor. She turns toward me, soaked, glowing, and breathless.
“You look ridiculous,” she says, smiling so wide it looks like it hurts.
“You look perfect,” I shoot back.
I don’t give her a chance to respond. I pull her in and kiss her again. The room erupts again, a chorus of whistles and cheers louder than the arena.
“OH MY GOD, THEY’RE DOING IT AGAIN!” Cash screams.
There’s a chorus of: “Shut up, Cash.”
I break the kiss only because we’re both laughing too hard to continue.
“You lifted the Cup with me, Callahan.”
“Of course I did.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I did,” I say simply, my voice dropping. “Because you’re part of this victory. You’re part of us. You’re part of me.”
Her eyes soften in a way that makes my knees weak, a look of pure, unguarded vulnerability. But before she can respond, Nico climbs onto a training bench and starts banging a stick against a metal bin.
“ALRIGHT, LISTEN UP! CAPTAIN! SPEECH!”
I groan, burying my face in Ivy’s shoulder for a second, but the team won’t let me out of it. I step forward, dripping champagne, and look at my brothers—the men I’ve fought with for years. Then I look at Ivy, who is watching me with a fierce, steady pride that makes me feel ten feet tall.
I clear my throat, the room falling into a respectful, heavy silence.
“This season… was hell.”
The room breaks into a collective laugh.
“But it was worth it. Every hit. Every bruise. Every late night in the film room. Every screw-up and every fight. Because we did it together.”
Cheers break out, sticks banging against lockers.
“We didn’t win because we were perfect. We won because we refused to break when the world tried to snap us.”
More cheers.
“And we didn’t do it alone.”
I glance at Ivy. She freezes, her eyes widening as the room follows my gaze.
“This woman,” I say, “held us together when everything tried to tear us apart. She believed in us when we were at our lowest. And we wouldn’t be standing here tonight without her.”
The team erupts into a unified roar.
I raise a hand, and the room quiets again, though the energy is still vibrating.
“Now… there’s one more thing.”
I look at Ivy. She nods—small, proud, steady. We talked about this before the game. She told me to do it my way, on my terms.
“This was my last game.”
Silence. Actual, ringing silence for the first time all night.
Then—
Cash: “I’M SORRY, WHAT THE—”
Nico: “No way.”
Kovács: “You’re joking, right?”
I lift my hands to quiet them. “I’m serious. Cash, sit down before you faint.”
Cash drops to his knees like he’s actually been shot. “MY HEART. MY ACTUAL HEART. I NEED MEDICAL ATTENTION.”
Nico kicks him lightly with a wet skate. “Get up, drama queen. Let him finish.”
Leo just looks like he’s about to have a panic attack.
I continue, my voice thick with emotion.
“I’ve given everything I have to this game. Every ounce of my energy, my body, and my mind. And tonight… when that horn sounded, I felt it. The ending. The right ending. I want to leave on a high. I want to leave with this Cup, with this team, and with all of you.”
The room is quiet now—emotional, stunned, raw. These are men who have looked to me for leadership for years, and the weight of that responsibility is finally lifting.
Then I add, softer, looking directly at the woman standing by the door:
“And I want to start the next part of my life with her.”
Ivy’s breath catches, her eyes swimming with fresh tears. Everyone around us is quiet, watching the moment unfold.
“You know what they used to call me?” I say, a huff of a laugh escaping me. I look at the guys, then back at her.
“Uncoachable.”
Iveline stills. “That’s not true, Cal.”
“It was,” I say. “I just hadn’t met the right coach yet.”
“I’M DEAD. I’M ACTUALLY DEAD. BURY ME WITH THE CUP!” Cash screams again, breaking the tension and making everyone laugh, but I see the way his eyes glisten as he tries to hide his face.
Marcus wipes his eyes openly, stepping forward to clap my shoulder. “I’m proud of you, man. Hell of a way to go out.”
Brick pulls me into a crushing, rib-cracking hug. “We’ll miss you.”
Leo joins the hug. Then Nico. Then the whole team. It’s a massive dog pile of sweat, champagne, tears, and brotherhood.
When they finally let me breathe, Ivy steps forward.
Her eyes are shining, her face a map of the same joy I feel.
“You did it,” she whispers.
“We did it,” I correct, taking her face in my hands.
She smiles—soft, proud, and with a look that says forever.
I kiss her again, slow and deep this time, the room cheering and whistling around us. And in the middle of all that chaos—the noise, the champagne, the shouting, and the overwhelming love—I know with absolute, bone-deep certainty:
I’m not retiring from something. I’m retiring into something.
Into her.
Into us.
Into a future we finally get to build together, exactly the way we want.