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I promise to stand by your side through every high and low. I promise to love you with everything I have—to be your anchor when life gets hard and your biggest cheerleader when life gives us reasons to celebrate.

I vow to love you fiercely, to laugh with you endlessly, and to build a life where Jake knows he is surrounded by love every single day.

With you… I’m home. Always.”

***

My breath catches. It’s like the whole church disappears, and it’s just the two of us—Abby and me, standing in a moment I never dreamed would be mine.

She just said I’m her home.

For a guy who used to think happiness was found in trophies and roaring crowds… there’s nothing that’s ever come close to this.

I blink hard, trying to hold it together. But even Wes, who’s pretending not to tear up, mutters a quiet, “Dang” under his breath.

Jake flashes me a thumbs-up from the side like he just scored a hat trick, and Abby lets out a teary laugh.

“Nice vows,” I whisper, leaning in.

“Yours weren’t so bad either,” she says softly, eyes still sparkling.

The officiant nods toward me, and I turn to accept the rings from Jake—who looks ridiculously proud, as if he handcrafted them himself.

I take Abby’s hand in mine, and for a moment, my fingers still. Not from nerves—but reverence. This woman is about to become my wife. My partner. My future.

Slipping the ring onto her finger, I say, “With this ring, I give you my heart, my loyalty, and my forever. Everything I have, everything I am, is yours.”

Her hand trembles slightly as she takes the band meant for me. As she slides it onto my finger, her voice is soft but steady.

“With this ring, I give you my love, my laughter, and every tomorrow we’re blessed to share.”

Our hands linger in each other’s, the rings now glinting in the golden afternoon light filtering through the stained-glass windows.

When the officiant finally announces us as husband and wife… I don’t wait.

I sweep Abby into my arms and kiss her like my life depends on it, laughter and cheers echoing around us. Then we wrap Jake up in our arms and dance down the aisle together

“About time!” Wes calls out, making everyone laugh.

In this moment…

I haveeverything.

***

The church bells are still echoing as we step into the sunlit courtyard behind the chapel, where white tents stretch across the lawn and twinkling string lights are ready to glow as dusk settles.

The reception area is everything Abby dreamed of—simple, warm, elegant. Wildflowers in mason jars line the tables, and photos of our favorite memories are strung up on twine, fluttering in the breeze. There’s laughter, hugs, champagne toasts being poured, and the smell of grilled food wafting through the air from the big outdoor buffet station Quinn insisted on organizing.

Spotty is here, of course. He’s wearing a bowtie and already sniffing out leftover sliders under the kids’ table. He’s practically the guest of honor there.

Jake’s bouncing from table to table, proudly telling everyone how he carried the rings “without even dropping them once.” Wes hands him a root beer with a wink. “Job well done, kid.”

The music softens as Dexter Stone, our gruff but soft-hearted team manager, steps up with a glass in hand.

“I’ll keep this short before I start bawling and ruin my tough-guy reputation,” he grumbles, clearing his throat. “I’ve known Beck since he was a cocky twenty-year-old who thought he could win every game on his own. And in a lot of ways, he could. But the man you see here today?” He pauses, glancing toward me and Abby. “He’s grown into someone who understands that life’s real victories happen off the ice. When you show up for people. When you love them right. Abby, Jake—you’re his Stanley Cup. And Beck? You’re lucky as a fox in the hen house.”

The crowd laughs and cheers, and I raise my glass in gratitude.