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Chapter Thirty-Three

Hunter

I pace behind the bench, my heart thundering against my ribs. Two minutes left. We're up 3-2, but Vegas is pressing hard. Every second stretches like an eternity.

"Blake! Short shifts!" I bark as he gasps for air.

His shoulder is holding. Barely.

The crowd roars, a deafening wall of sound. Twenty years of coaching, and I've never heard anything like it. Iron Ridge has taken over Vegas, it's become a powder keg of hope and fear.

Vegas pulls their goalie. Six attackers now.

"Connor, stay square!" I shout as our net gets peppered with shots. My rookie goalie stands tall, deflecting puck after puck.

One minute. My fingers grip the bench. Fuck!

I catch a flash of shining light behind me. Natalie's engagement ring catching the lights at the far end as she wrap Blake's shoulder one last time.

Even now, in this chaos, she's my anchor.

"Thirty seconds!" Jordan yells beside me.

Vegas wins the faceoff. My heart stops as they cycle the puck, looking for the perfect shot. Connor makes a sprawling save. The puck bounces to Ryder.

He sees Blake breaking free from the box.

The pass is perfect. Blake's gone - nothing but open ice between him and glory.

The entire arena holds its breath.

Blake dekes once, twice... SCORES!

The horn blares. The crowd erupts.

"We've done it!" I shout, throwing a fist into the air.

The Stanley Cup is ours.

My team pours over the boards, sticks and gloves flying. Connor races the length of the ice to tackle Blake. Twenty years of work, of rebuilding after my injury, of proving everyone wrong… it all leads to this moment.

But I don't join the pile. I don't scream or jump or lose my mind like I always imagined.

Instead, I turn.

And there she is. Natalie. My fiancée.

Tears stream down her face as she stands at the bench, wrapped in my jacket. The back still reads "COACH'S FAVORITE", except now the last word is crossed out, replaced with "FIANCé."

In this moment of ultimate victory, she's all I see.

I vault over the bench, my legs carrying me straight to her.

Nothing else matters.

Not the Cup, not the cameras, not the roaring crowd.

Just Natalie.

Her eyes lock with mine, emerald green sparkling with tears and joy. She launches herself at me, and I catch her, lifting her off her feet. The world spins as I twirl her, my heart so full it might burst.

"You did it!" she laughs against my lips, breathless and beautiful.

"No, baby." I press my forehead to hers, breathing in this perfect moment. "Like I keep telling you... we did it."

The celebration explodes behind us. My hands cup her face, thumbs brushing away happy tears as I kiss her like it's the first time. Like it's the last time. Like it's the only time that's ever mattered.

I've chased this dream for two damn decades. The Cup, the glory, the vindication of being tossed away like useless trash. But holding her now, feeling her heart race against mine, I realize something profound…

This, right here, is my real Stanley Cup moment.

"I love you," she whispers, fingers tangling in my hair.

My voice breaks, raw with emotion. "I love you too. You're my whole damn world."

The kiss deepens, and I pour everything into it. The cameras are rolling, green and gray confetti and streamers falling around us.

The whole damn world is watching, but I couldn't care less. Let them see. Let them all see that hockey isn't my everything anymore.

She is.

The media scrum descends like vultures, microphones thrust in my face. Cameras flash, questions overlap into a chaotic buzz. But I keep my arm firmly around Natalie's waist.

"Coach Brody!" A reporter from ESPN pushes forward. "The rumors are swirling—Team USA. You won the contract, sir. Any comment?"

I don't even need to think about it. My eyes find Natalie's, and everything else fades away. There's barely a decision to make.

"Tell them thanks, but no thanks." My voice carries across the hustle of media and celebrating players. "I've got everything I want in Iron Ridge. You'd be crazy to leave that town, and I'm not going anywhere."

Natalie's breath catches, her fingers tightening on my arm. The ring on her left hand catches the arena lights, sparkling like her eyes.

Natalie spins in my arms, catching my gaze. "Hunter, are you sure? We can work it out. I'll travel with you."

I shake my head. "Baby, the Olympics would've been incredible, sure. But this is better. You've been right all along, Iron Ridge is home, baby."

The reporters start shouting follow-up questions, but I just pull Natalie closer. Let them speculate. Let them write whatever headlines they want. Years ago, getting cut by Vancouver felt like the end of my world.

Now I know it was just the beginning of finding something better.

The Icehawks are finally presented the Cup and my team goes wild as they pass it from player to player. I stand back and laugh as they each try to lift it higher than the last, eyes shining with joy that I only imagined as a kid who fell in love with hockey all those years ago.

Blake grabs the cup, taking his turn before pointing a finger straight at me.

"Coach Brody," he calls, his voice rough with emotion. "Get your ass over here. Come get what’s yours."

I shake my head. "That isn’t mine, boys. That's yours . "

Natalie gives me a shove in the back. "No, it's ours. "

But it's too late. Blake's already shoving the Cup into my hands. The weight is staggering. Not just the metal, but everything it represents.

I lift it high, letting the roar of the crowd wash over me as tears threaten to fall as I lower the Cup.

And then I see Wes, lingering near the edge of the ice. Arms crossed, yet his eyes have pride and joy written in their depths.

I lower the Cup, stepping toward him. For a second, we just stand there, two men who spent a lifetime chasing this moment in two completely different ways. Then, Wes gives a small nod and shakes my hand.

"Good luck at the Olympics," I tell him.

His lips quirk into something almost like a smirk. "You're really turning it down?"

I shrug. "Had better things to say yes to."

He exhales a sharp laugh, then claps me on the shoulder as he looks to my beautiful fiancé. "Hell of a win, Brody."

He steps back, disappearing into the chaos just as the sight of my mother catches my eye.

I barely have time to react before my mom barrels onto the ice, making a beeline not for me, but for Natalie. She crashes into her with an excited squeal, nearly knocking her over as she pulls her into a crushing hug.

“My favorite daughter!” Mom exclaims, practically bouncing on her feet.

Natalie laughs, wrapping her arms around her. “You only have one, but I’ll take it.”

Dad is close behind, shaking his head but grinning. “Proud of you, son. Hell of a win.”

Before I can even thank him, there’s another voice—one I wasn’t expecting.

“Natalie.”

We all turn. And there, standing just beyond the boards, looking more than a little out of place in the middle of this chaos, are her parents.

Martha and Harold Hayes. In Las Vegas.

Natalie stiffens beside me, but before she can move, Martha steps forward, her gaze locked on her daughter. Her eyes are glimmering with something I don’t think I’ve ever seen from her before.

Pride.

Then she does something that stuns us all.

She opens her arms.

Natalie chokes on a breath. For a split second, she hesitates. But then she’s moving, stepping into her mother’s embrace as Harold places a firm hand on my shoulder.

“You take care of her, son.”

I nod. “Always.”

Martha pulls back, her hands framing Natalie’s face before trailing down her arm, gently lifting her hand. Her gaze softens as she takes in the ring— her mother’s ring —gleaming under the arena lights.

“You know, this is a moment worth celebrating.” She pauses, smirking. “Which is why the engagement party is at our house.”

Natalie’s jaw drops. “Wait— what?! ”

Harold claps me on the back. “You heard her. We’ll see you there.”

And just like that, the impossible has happened.

Martha Hayes is hosting a party.

For us .

I lean down to murmur in Natalie’s ear. “Are you okay?”

She exhales a stunned laugh, still watching her parents walk away with mine. “I think I just witnessed an actual miracle.”

I chuckle, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Iron Ridge better be ready, baby. Because we’re bringing the Cup home .”

The team surrounds me, their faces lit with pure joy as we pass the Cup between us. Blake lifts it highest, his roar echoing through the arena. Then Connor, who nearly drops it on Lucy's head in his excitement. Even Logan cracks a grin as he hoists it overhead.

The silver gleams under the lights, decades of names etched into its surface. Soon, ours will join them.

But my attention keeps drifting to something else that sparkles.

I find Natalie's hand in the chaos, my thumb brushing over the vintage diamond that now sits perfectly on her finger. She squeezes back, and when I look down, her eyes are shining brighter than any trophy.

"We did it," she whispers.

The cameras flash around us, capturing this moment for posterity. The crowd's roar is deafening, " Ice-hawks! Ice-hawks! Ice-hawks !" echoing through the arena.

My team, these incredible underdogs from a small mountain town, are Stanley Cup champions.

Twenty years ago, I thought losing hockey meant losing everything. But standing here now, with Natalie's hand in mine and my team celebrating around us, I realize I couldn't have been more wrong.

The Cup is incredible. It's everything I've worked for.

But it's not everything.

Not anymore.

I've won something far more precious than silver.

I've won her heart.

And that? That's worth more than all the Stanley Cups in history.