Page 102 of Pucking the Team

Throwing on Lukas’s discarded t-shirt, I pad out to the kitchen, unable to keep the dopey grin off my face. Sometimes I still can’t believe this is my life now. That a year ago, I was pining after these incredible men from afar, and now we’ve built a home and life together, on and off the ice.

I marvel at how the house has transformed since we moved in back in the spring. Everywhere I look, I see the stamp of our combined personalities and passions. The sleek marble countertops and gleaming espresso machine in the kitchen are all Alex’s doing, our resident master chef and coffee snob.

In the living room, Lukas’s well-worn guitar is propped in the corner, sheet music scattered on the coffee table. Framed photos of our adventures adorn the walls—a romantic weekend in Napa Valley, a thrilling whitewater rafting trip, celebrating Pride together decked out in rainbow.

I pop into the den, which has become Ryan’s favorite reading nook. The shelves are already crammed with his collection of sci-fi novels and rare philosophy tomes. I smile, remembering how Ryan’s brown eyes lit up when we surprised him with a first-edition signed copy of The Once and Future King for his birthday last month.

Making my way back to the kitchen, I fire up the espresso machine and start whipping up lattes for my sleeping beauties, humming under my breath. This cozy greystone in Logan Square has become more than just a house—it’s a home, bursting with laughter, love, and too many hockey sticks to count.

The cheerful chime of the doorbell interrupts my coffee-making groove. I already know who it is: my ride-or-die bestie who’s way too perky for this ungodly morning hour.

I swing open the door to find Selena sporting a megawatt grin, two cold brews in hand. “Emergency caffeine delivery for the hotshot assistant coach!”

“You’re a goddess among women,” I deadpan, taking a long swig of the life-giving elixir. The rich aroma perks me up instantly. “I frankly did not want to wait the five minutes for the hot stuff to be done.”

“Just wait ’til you see what else I brought.” She waggles her eyebrows mischievously, shouldering past me into the house. “Supplies for the team kickoff extravaganza! We’ve got serious party prep to do, babe.”

I groan dramatically as I follow her back to the kitchen. “Remind me why I volunteered to host this again?”

“Because you’re an overachieving people-pleaser with no concept of work-life balance?” Selena sasses back with a wink.

“Hey, now!” I swat at her with a dish towel in mock outrage. “I’ll have you know I’m a reformed workaholic. The boys have been an excellent influence.”

Selena snorts. “Oh, I bet they have. All those lazy mornings tangled up together must be SO stressful. However do you cope?”

I stick my tongue out at her, fighting back a giddy smile at the memory of waking up cocooned between Lukas and Slade’s sculpted bodies. “Green is not a good color on you, Nelson.”

As we unpack Selena’s bags, catching up and cackling like schoolgirls, it hits me how much I’ve missed our easy camaraderie. Being with my boys is incredible, but Selena truly gets me on another level.

“So, how’s the glamorous single life treating you these days? Terrorizing the local baristas with complicated drink orders?” I tease as we start chopping veggies for the crudités platter. We have caterers coming, but of course I still feel the need to prep my own food, just in case.

Selena tosses her sleek bob. “Oh honey, I’m living my best bachelorette life. My closet’s never been more organized, and I can starfish in my bed without kicking anyone!”

“Wow, sounds riveting,” I drawl. “But seriously, no potential boy toys on the horizon? With all the eligible hockey hotties constantly hanging around, I figured you’d have snapped one up by now.”

“Excuse you, I am an independent woman,” Selena declares with exaggerated hauteur. “I don’t need no man…although I wouldn’t say no to a casual hall pass with that sexy Swede on your second line. Oooh, or the scruffy goalie with the French accent!”

We collapse into giggles, playfully bickering over which player is the hottest as we continue prepping an absolutely absurd amount of food. As I watch Selena shimmying around my kitchen belting out “All the Single Ladies,” I’m overcome with a rush of affection.

“Remember this time last year, when we crashed DJ’s birthday party so you could stalk the team before you started your job?” Selena grins at the memory.

“Oh god, don’t remind me!” I bury my face in my hands.

“But look at you now!” Selena gestures grandly at me, sending arugula flying. “Emma Collins, assistant coach extraordinaire, shacked up with not one, but four gorgeous hockey gods. You’re basically living the dream, babe.”

I snicker and throw a cherry tomato at her. “If I was living the dream, we would’ve won the Cup last year instead of flailing our way through the finals.”

"Pffft, minor detail! This season is your chance to nab that fairytale ending. Put a ring on it, hoist that shiny trophy…” Selena waggles her eyebrows suggestively. “Kiss your Prince Charmings senseless on center ice while the crowd loses their shit…”

“Oh my God, stop!” I feel my cheeks flush at the mental image. “Way to jinx it, weirdo. Let’s survive this party first before you go planning my happily ever after!”

Laughing, we clink our coffee cups together in a toast—to the new season, new beginnings, and the unshakeable bonds of friendship. Whatever lies ahead, I know this smart-mouthed partner in crime will be right there in my corner.

And that’s the best ‘happily’ I could ask for.

Throughout the day, our once-ordinary backyard transforms into an enchanting oasis before my eyes.

Twinkling fairy lights wind through the branches of our old oak tree, casting a warm, inviting glow. Elegant floral arrangements in the team’s colors, black and white, adorn the tables, their delicate petals swaying in the gentle breeze. The aroma of savory dishes and sweet desserts floats through the air.

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