Page 43 of For Pucking Real (The Seattle Vipers #4)

THIRTY-ONE

LIA

Now

T he rooftop of the Vipers' training facility has never looked like this.

It's golden hour, the sun setting low behind the Seattle skyline, bathing everything in a honeyed glow that makes even the concrete edges of the building seem soft and inviting.

Strings of fairy lights twinkle against the deepening violet sky, crisscrossing overhead like constellations brought down to earth just for tonight.

Smooth jazz hums from strategically placed speakers, the bass notes vibrating gently beneath conversations.

Mannequins dressed in bold, graphic Vipers sportswear stand like silent sentinels around the space, their poses sharp and dynamic, their outfits fiercer than anything the franchise has ever produced.

The fabrics catch the fading light, reflective strips glinting, custom embroidery showcasing the hours of detailed work I poured into each piece.

Catering trays shimmer with gourmet sliders, delicate canapés arranged in geometric patterns, and way, way too much champagne.

The place is absolutely packed to its edges.

Everywhere I look, there are people, a sea of faces turned toward my designs with appreciation in their eyes.

The Vipers administrative staff in their crisp suits, rival team GMs pretending they're not taking mental notes, designers from other franchises who flew in just to see what all the buzz was about, fashion press scribbling in notebooks, and influencers not-so-subtly filming everything for their stories.

Most importantly, my family is here, the ones who've seen me hunched over my sewing machine at three in the morning, who've listened to me curse over ripped seams and impossible deadlines.

Brea is resplendent in a green hoodie dress with asymmetrical details that I almost cut from the launch line, thank goodness she convinced me to let her rock it.

Alexis is already chatting books with a pair of stylists who practically screamed about being her biggest fans when they realized Jazminne Starr was in attendance.

Ridley's got his arm looped over Brea's shoulder with Kodah balanced on his hip, my brother looking more proud than he ever has after scoring a hat trick.

Derrick and Sebastian are off in a corner, heads bent over a tiny Vipers baby bomber jacket like it's fine art, Derrick's animated gestures making Sebastian smile that rare, unguarded smile.

Then there's Tor, circling the venue with all the quiet protectiveness of a true captain, giving the PR team a run for their money as he smoothly redirects conversations and makes sure everyone has what they need.

At the center of all this madness is me, with measuring tape still looped around my neck like the world's most utilitarian necklace. To say I'm frazzled is an understatement. Because of course I am.

I'd been running up until the last second, last-minute hemming, fitting, and yelling about missing seam lines on the showpiece jacket that nearly gave me an aneurysm.

My fingers are still pricked from emergency stitching, and I'm pretty sure there's a safety pin somewhere in my hair.

Now here I am in my vintage cherry-red swing dress with the sweetheart neckline, hair piled on my head in what I hope looks like an intentional messy bun, lips matte black, eyeliner probably smudged beyond repair.

The chaos is fading, replaced with the surreal calm that only comes once you've survived the hurricane and found yourself somehow still standing.

I think I've actually pulled this off, and I'm damn proud of myself.

Chloe is nestled snug to Devan's broad chest in her brand-new front-facing Vipers baby carrier, navy blue with the Vipers logo meticulously hand-stitched on the front.

Her little beanie, soft against her wisps of dark hair, reads: "Future MVP" in glittering thread.

Tobias stands next to them, tall and proud in a blue and green striped Vipers hoodie that hugs his arms way too well for public decency, the prototype that made me blush when he first tried it on in my studio.

They're both beaming at me like I've just won the Stanley Cup single-handedly while simultaneously solving world peace.

I'm just about to find a seat and hopefully put my aching feet up for a minute.

Silently cursing myself for wearing vintage heels when I've been running around for over eight hours straight, when Marla steps up to the microphone set up in front of the tables and chairs, tapping it twice with her perfectly manicured nail.

"Can I have everyone's attention, please?" Her voice rings out over the rooftop, cutting through conversations. "Before we wrap up tonight's event, I'd like to invite the woman of the hour to the stage. The brilliance behind the relaunch. The reason we're all here. Lia Masters."

Oh. Shit. No one said anything about a speech. Not a single word in any of our planning meetings. I feel the blood drain from my face as conversations hush and heads turn toward me expectantly.

Devan and Tobias both look at me, their expressions a perfect blend of encouragement and absolute certainty that I can handle this.

"You got this," Devan murmurs, his voice warm and steady as he gently bounces Chloe against his chest.

"Kill it," Tobias adds, his hand grazing the small of my back, that brief touch somehow anchoring me to the ground when I feel like I might float away in panic.

I shoot them a terrified look that I hope conveys exactly how much I'm going to make them pay for this later, and step forward, rubbing my sweaty palms down my dress, the clack of my heels too loud in my ears.

The crowd parts for me like I'm Moses at the Red Sea.

The lights blind me momentarily, and suddenly, I'm at the mic, staring at what feels like a thousand expectant faces.

My hands tremble slightly as I grab it, the cool metal sticking to my damp palm. I didn't prepare a speech. I didn't expect to give one. I'm the behind-the-scenes person, the one with needle and thread, not words and spotlight.

As I look out at the crowd, at Chloe in her Vipers beanie with her curious eyes taking in the lights, at the teammates who have become family against all odds, at Ridley and Brea and Alexis who've seen me through my darkest days, and at the two men who have held me through the absolute hardest and most beautiful moments of my life so far, I know exactly what to say.

The words bubble up from somewhere deep inside me, somewhere honest.

"I wouldn't be here if it weren't for my brother."

I glance at Ridley, who immediately rolls his eyes and pretends to look away, but his grin is unmistakable, the pride radiating off him in waves.

"And not because he's Ridley Masters, Vipers legend," I continue, my voice growing stronger with each word.

"But because he believed in me when I didn't believe in myself.

He never told me to play it safe. He never told me to stop dreaming or to be practical.

He just asked me what I needed and then told me to go get it and sometimes literally pushed me out the door to do it. "

A few soft claps start and ahhs are heard around the rooftop, the sound washing over me like a gentle wave.

"I also wouldn't be here without the love and support of Devan and Tobias.

Two men who have shown me what it means to be seen.

Really seen. Who've held me together when I thought I'd fall apart into a million pieces.

Who made space for me to be a mother, a designer, a partner, and myself, all the messy, complicated versions of me that exist in a single day. "

My voice wobbles, emotion catching in my throat like fabric on a rough edge. Chloe coos somewhere in the background like she knows I'm talking about her, her little hands reaching toward the sound of my voice.

"And Chloe," I say, finding her little face tucked against Devan's chest. "You're why I do all of this. You changed everything. You made me a better person. You made me brave enough to take chances I never would have before."

Someone hands me a tissue. It might've been Marla, and I dab my eyes, careful not to smudge my already precarious eyeliner situation.

"Thank you to the Vipers organization for giving me a platform, for trusting my vision when it would have been easier to go with an established name, and for letting me create something new. Something inclusive. Something fierce that represents who we really are as a team and a community."

More claps and wolf whistles from the team, Derrick's distinctive whoop rising above the rest.

"I hope to continue building, not just here in Seattle, but across the league. Because this? This is just the beginning of what we can create together. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart."

Applause from the gathered crowd is deafening, the support unbelievable, washing over me in waves that make my knees weak. I hadn't realized how much I needed this, not just the success, but the acknowledgment that what I've built matters.

I step down, overwhelmed, heart pounding against my ribs like it's trying to escape.

Tobias reaches for my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine, steady and warm.

Devan pulls me into his side with his free arm, and Chloe gurgles happily between us like she knows she's a part of it all, her tiny fingers grabbing at my necklace.

Cameras flash all around us, not missing a moment between us, the three of us and our daughter forming a tableau I never could have imagined for myself.

For the first time in what feels like forever, I'm not worried about optics. I'm not thinking about the kiss that went viral, or the headlines that speculated on our relationship, or the fact that Tobias almost lost his job when the team management initially balked at our unconventional family.

We made it through the storm. Cliff called three days ago to confirm Tobias will stay with the team, his voice gruff but supportive.

No more closed doors. No more whispering in shadows.

No more pretending we're anything other than what we are.

We're here, we're together, and we're thriving against all odds.

"You crushed that," Devan murmurs into my ear, his breath warm against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

"Proud of you doesn't even begin to cover it," Tobias says, his voice rough with emotion, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand.

Brea, Alexis, Ridley, and Tor descend on me, wrapping me in hugs and compliments and champagne toasts, their voices overlapping in a symphony of support.

The whole team gathers around like I'm the final puzzle piece that's been snapped into place, completing something none of us realized was incomplete.

Maybe I am.

Because tonight. . .tonight they're celebrating me.

Not in a fleeting way, not like the obligatory claps or perfunctory cheers that sometimes follow someone's achievement.

No, this is different. This is raw and genuine, their faces lit with pride that mirrors exactly what I've felt watching them all these years.

Their eyes shine with the same fierce joy I've experienced when Devan made a perfect defensive play, when Tobias scored a game-winning goal, when Ridley lifted that trophy high above his head.

The same way I've always celebrated them, from the sidelines, with my whole heart.

Standing in the cold arenas, bundled in team colors, voice hoarse from screaming their names.

Staying up late to finish custom jerseys, hosting watch parties when they were on the road, creating a space where everyone felt welcome.

Loving them loudly, consistently, without reservation, even when it was complicated, even when it hurt, even when I wasn't sure where I fit in their world of spotlights and statistics.

It's perfect and for pucking real. This moment, suspended in time, where I'm not just adjacent to their story but central to it.

Where my dreams matter as much as theirs.

Where the boundaries between their world and mine have blurred into something new and beautiful, something that belongs to all of us.

Something that feels like coming home after wandering lost for years, only to find that home was always there, waiting patiently for me to claim it.