Viggy

Hockey Rule #129: Stick taps mean more than speeches Media Rule #129: Reputation is built off-camera

The champagne barely registered as I watched Lily work the room, slipping between conversations with the kind of quiet fire that always turned heads. A minute ago, she’d been beside me—her hand in mine—before another industry hotshot pulled her away. Her award— her award, not Malone’s, not anyone else’s—sat heavy in my hands. The weight of it matched the pride in my chest and I couldn’t hold back my smile. A big, fat, that’s-my-girl grin I wouldn’t be losing for a long time.

She caught my eye across the crowded hotel ballroom, a secret smile we’d perfected over time lighting up her face. The same smile she’d given me right before taking the stage, right before bringing the whole room to their feet with a speech that proved exactly why Three Corners Productions had just swept the sports documentary category.

“This award represents choosing integrity over easy success,” she’d said, those sea-glass eyes finding mine in the crowd and lighting me up inside. “I learned that lesson from a hockey player who showed me that legacy isn’t measured in trophies, but in the lives we touch. In the stories we leave the next generation.”

You might take the girl out of Hollywood, but there was no taking the Hollywood out of Lily.

God, she was stunning. Not just the dress or the makeup or the way her dark hair curled just right around her cheekbones. No, her beauty ran deeper. Lily at full wattage—clever, quick, radiant from the inside out. The woman I used to catch glimpses of around the arena, behind guarded smiles and half-finished jokes, now stood fully in her skin.

And I was a goner all over again.

She’d taken to the challenges of a start-up in a new town like no one’s business. The stress left her eyes, the worry dropped from her shoulders. The clever, funny woman I’d seen hints of a year ago thrived now and every time I thought I couldn’t love her more, she proved me wrong.

“Jack.” A hand landed on my shoulder—Commissioner Nelson himself, looking exactly like he had when I’d accepted my first Selke. “That development program of yours is making waves. Got half the owner’s asking when you’ll take a real coaching position.”

I shifted Lily’s award to my other hand, kept my stance easy. “Got my hands full in Three Corners. More players knocking on the door than we’ve got ice time for.”

“The money would be better.” His smile carried that particular edge that used to make my teeth itch. “The prestige—”

“The reward’s helping borderline AHL guys tighten up their game enough to stick on an NHL roster. We work with players who’ve been told they’re done—and help them prove otherwise.” I kept my tone even, just enough edge to say conversation over without getting rude.

My phone buzzed in my jacket pocket—probably Rae, firing off another wedding update. She’d been texting all night like she had three planners breathing down her neck and zero backup. Her last message had been a seven-part saga about courthouse cake flavors and why fondant was an abomination. I hadn’t even known cakes had politics.

“Speaking of building something...” Nelson’s gaze drifted to the other side of the ballroom, where Lily stood mid-circle, surrounded by a wall of Netflix execs. “Heard her company’s branching into music videos. Doesn’t exactly scream ‘hockey documentary,’ does it?”

Pride sparked in my chest, right in the region of my heart. The good kind that came with watching the woman I loved build something with both hands and zero shortcuts. What started in a drafty old hardware store with camera gear stacked in corners had turned into the name locals bragged about with big smiles. And now? Now Lily had her eye on new ground.

“They’re exploring.” I didn’t bother to explain further. If Lily wanted to shoot concerts in a barn one day and skate drills the next, she’d do it—and make it work. Hell, if anyone could blend behind-the-scenes grit with slow-motion guitar solos and have it land just right, it was her. She didn’t chase trends. She followed instinct. And every time she did, she made it look easy.

She caught my eye again, that sparkle in her expression saying she needed rescue. I was already moving before she completed our subtle signal—a tap of her thumb against her wrist that had evolved from nervous tell to a private language just between us.

“Excuse me.” I gave Commissioner Nelson a nod that would have made Coach Mack proud. “Need to congratulate my girl.”

Lily’s shoulders relaxed the instant I appeared at her side, her body tucking against mine like I’d been made to shield her. The Netflix suits didn’t miss how naturally she leaned into me, or how my hand found that spot on her lower back that steadied us both.

“Gentleman.” I kept my voice pleasant but firm. “Mind if I steal the woman of the hour? Got some Three Corners folks waiting on FaceTime.” I held up my phone where Rae’s latest wedding crisis blinked on screen. “Something about maple bacon cream cheese frosting being mandatory for courthouse nuptials?”

Lily’s laugh said she knew exactly what I was up to. The same laugh that had echoed through her tiny kitchen, when she’d burned grilled cheese while Bright judged from his island.

“Save me from Rae’s cake obsession?” Her eyes danced with mischief as she claimed her award. “Before she convinces the judge to relocate to Sugar Squared for the ceremony?”

The executives chuckled indulgently, but I caught the way they tracked us as we moved through the crowd. Probably already planning how to spin this into a collaboration opportunity. Let them try. Lily had earned the right to choose her own path.

Just like I had.

“You’re supposed to be networking,” she whispered once we reached a quiet corner. “I saw Jasper Pendleton.” But her fingers found my tie, straightening it with the kind of casual intimacy that still made my heart skip.

“How am I supposed to do that?” I pressed my thumb against her pulse point, feeling the flutter beneath her skin. “When you’re sending SOS in Morse code with your eyebrows?”

Her laugh carried zero Hollywood polish now. Just pure Lily. “My hero.”

“Damn right.” I pressed a kiss to her temple, breathing in citrus and spice and possibility. “Someone’s got to protect you from yourself. These guys don’t know what they’re getting into, trying to negotiate with Lily Sutton when she’s got that look in her eyes.”

“What look?” But her grin said she knew exactly what I meant.

“The one that says you’re about to change the whole damn industry. Again.” I squeezed her hip. “Better warn them about your grumpy cat overlord while they’ve still got time to run.”

She leaned into me, all soft curves and sharp edges and everything I never knew I needed. “Good thing I’ve got you to keep me grounded then.”

“Good thing,” I said, voice coming out rougher than I meant it to. Hard not to feel wrecked by her, standing there all glow and grit—utterly in her element. No hesitations. No double-checking the room. Just Lily, grounded in what she’d built, fully herself and lighting up everything around her without even trying.

Falling for her had never really stopped. But watching her thrive like this? It soothed away the last of the worry that she needed more than the life we built in Three Corners.

My phone buzzed again. Rae. Bright apparently needed a custom bowtie for the ceremony. I ignored it and slid an arm around Lily’s waist, needing to anchor myself in this moment while it was still ours.

“Why is Rae this invested in our courthouse wedding? Don’t we just show up, say a few words, and sign the paper?”

Her laugh wrapped around me, warming me from the inside out.

We’d both walked away from shinier paths. Left behind titles and climbing and expectations that never quite fit. Now here she was, eyes lit with that familiar fire, already chasing the next story no one else would think to tell—blurring the line between documentary grit and soundbite entertainment—and somehow making it all look effortless.

This wasn’t settling. This was choosing. On purpose. With both hands.

The first drops hit when we stepped out the side entrance, standing under the overhang while the sky broke open above the city. LA rain always felt thin to me, more performance than weather, like the clouds couldn’t fully commit. But Lily’s face still lifted the same way it had that first night in Austin—the one that changed everything—when she fumbled her door code and I held my hoodie over her head like some dumbass with a crush.

“Your dress is going to be ruined.” I shrugged out of my jacket, but she danced away before I could cover her.

“Since when do you care about designer labels?” Her laugh turned breathless as she twirled through the shower, award clutched to her chest like it was molded from gold. “Remember our first kiss after the rain?”

Like I could forget. The memory still hit like a shot of whiskey—her rain-soaked skin under my hands, that soft gasp when I’d finally stopped fighting what was between us. “You were scared I’d hate you forever.”

“I hated myself.” She stepped closer, close enough that rain-damp tendrils of hair curled against her cheek. “I hated what I’d let myself become. The choices I made for safety. For survival.”

My chest pulled tight. Even now—months into joint calendars and late-night editing sessions and planning a courthouse wedding that had somehow become the town’s favorite sideshow—she still hit me with moments like this. No filter. No polish. Just Lily, brave enough to say the thing out loud. Always willing to hand me the sharpest piece of herself.

I cupped her wrist, my thumb brushing that pulse I’d memorized long before I ever touched her. “Look at you now, Hollywood.” I tipped my forehead to hers. “Burning down the rulebook and rewriting the whole damn thing.”

“Look at you now, Hollywood.” I pressed my thumb against her pulse point, steadying us both. “Setting the whole industry on fire with stories that matter.”

She rolled her lips, that familiar tell saying she was wrestling with something bigger than tonight’s success. “The Netflix deal...”

“Hey.” I tilted her chin until her eyes met mine, steady and familiar and still capable of knocking the wind out of me. “Whatever you decide, I’m behind you. You and Adele didn’t just throw together some feel-good clips in a small town—you built a body of work. Told stories worth remembering. If Netflix doesn’t get that—”

“They do,” she said, fingers tugging at my tie like she hadn’t already smoothed it flat twice. “They’ve seen the full Renegades series. How the coverage built momentum across the season—no fake rivalries, no cutaway drama. Just the game, the players, and the work it takes to stay in it. And they watched the side projects too. The rec center series. The firefighter feature. The derby doc.”

She looked up at me, eyes sharp, alive. “They said we’re tapping into something different. Not sanitized. Not posed. People fighting for a second chance. Or for the chance they never got the first time. They think there’s an audience starved for that kind of truth.”

Thunder cracked above us. She jumped slightly—I wrapped her in my arms without thinking.

“They want more of those?” I asked. “More of you showing the grind behind the glory?”

“Exactly.” Her voice dropped, weight settling behind each word. “They want to build out a new model. Give us the budget to keep doing what we’re already doing—just bigger. Still grounded. Still ugly sometimes. Still real. They want stories that strip away the filters and show the people underneath.”

Lightning streaked across the hotel’s facade, catching on the raindrops clinging to her lashes. Her hair curled at the edges, damp and glowing under the streetlights. I didn’t care that we were getting soaked. Not when she stood there, lit from the inside out, doing work she actually gave a damn about.

“You know what this means?” she whispered. “We could build something that lasts. Work that says: this is what matters. Not who’s trending. Not who’s the loudest. But who shows up. Who stays in the fight.”

My chest pulled tight, pride and love tangled in a way I’d never put words to. I brushed a knuckle down her cheek, then leaned in close.

“Dance with me.” The words escaped before I could think better of it.

Her eyes widened. “Here? Now?”

“Why not?” I spun her in a slow circle, mindful of her bare feet—those ridiculous heels dangling from her fingers along with her award. “Worked out pretty well last time we danced in the rain.”

Her laugh echoed off hotel walls as I pulled her close again. “Last time, Bright shunned us for a week for tracking water through his domain, otherwise known as the hardware store.”

“Still worth it.” I pulled her close, pressed my lips to her damp hair. “You’re always worth it.”

She pushed up on her toes, her lips finding mine with familiar hunger. The kiss tasted like rain and triumph and tomorrow. Like trust earned and love chosen and everything else that mattered.

Thunder rumbled overhead, but I barely noticed. Not with Lily’s hands sliding into my hair, her body soft against mine as the rain sprinkling down on us. Not with her lips carrying promises sweeter than any victory.

“Take me upstairs.” Her voice whispered against my mouth. “Before Rae’s next crisis notification kills the mood.”

I laughed, already reaching for her award and shoes. “What’s left to crisis about? She’s got the cakes handled.”

“Bright’s bowtie fitting.” She fell into step beside me as we finally headed inside. “Apparently his Grumpy Face Empire requires custom measurements.”

“Of course it does.” I pressed the elevator call button, pulling her close again. “Can’t have the official Three Corners Productions mascot looking anything less than perfect.”

Her fingers found my tie again, but this time there was nothing casual about her touch. “Speaking of perfect...”

The rest of her words disappeared against my mouth as I backed her into the elevator. Because some things hadn’t changed since that storm-soaked kiss in Three Corners. The way she made my heart race. The way her body fit against mine like coming home. The way choosing her felt like choosing a beautiful future.

“I love you.” The words came easy, as natural as breathing. “Hollywood polish and all.”

Her answering smile lit up the whole damn elevator. “Love you too. Grumpy hockey player and all.”

We barely made it to our room before her lips found mine again. And this kiss? This tasted like victory sweeter than any Cup. Like promises kept and trust protected and love chosen every single day.

Like rain and memories and promises and tomorrow.

Like home.

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