Page 137 of Rinkmates

They welcome everyone to the grand finale of the show.

The stage lights flood the arena, and the crowd goes wild.

I catch glimpses of banners with our names held high. My heart skips a beat when I see one withLiora and Rileyon it. We definitely won over some hearts last week. I have no idea how we did it, because all I could think of was that freaking pain in my legs, but I watched all the videos after. I spot countless videos on social media platforms, capturing snippets of our performance. Apparently, no one could tell that I was slightly off my game that night. With every move we made together, Riley and I were mesmerizing to watch. Don’t get me wrong, Aiden and I have great chemistry, too, but there is just something special between me and Riley that everyone can sense. And that ending lift? It’s always being clipped and shared online. Especially when Riley kissed my forehead. So tender. So much love in that little move. All I see is wild concern in his eyes. But the fans see wild love and aren’t that wrong.

Shayleen and Tim crack some silly jokes while snippets of our journey flash across the massive screen behind them. I watch, transfixed, as clips of our training sessions and all those interviews play out before the entire arena.

And then, there we are—Riley and me, our chemistry undeniable even through the lens of a camera.

We gave an interview where he made a little joke about me being impressed by his skills. I playfully hit him, and he winked at me in response. We then spent a few seconds just staring at each other. Although I hadn’t realized we held the gaze that long, but I remember exactly what I was thinking: how much I wanted to kiss him and how I hated that the camera was filming us. Oh, we kissed after that interview.

Backstage, the energy is electric. Aiden paces back and forth, his eyes closed as he mentally rehearses our routine. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, too, but it’s impossible to ignore the gravity of this moment. One million. I could own one fucking million.

“Hey,” Aiden says softly, placing a hand on my shoulder. “We’ve got this. You and me, okay?”

I nod. “Let’s show them what we’re made of,” I reply, my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach.

As we wait for our cue, I glance down at my phone one last time.

Let’s win this shit.

Forty-two

RILEY

I’m a man possessed, flying across the ice, battling along the boards, setting up plays. My teammates match my fervor. They block shots and back-check like hell.

With two minutes left, we’re up by one. The Florida Bay Blazes pull their goalie for an extra attacker.

I dive to break up a pass and send the puck sailing down the ice…right into the empty net.

The buzzer sounds and pandemonium erupts.

Fucking shit. We did it.

Jayce and Colton crash into me and the audience fucking roars. Hats rain down. Beer is spilled. Shane sprints to the bench and grabs a bottle of champagne, shaking it wildly before popping the top and spraying everyone in reach. We scream at each other as silver glitter confetti falls on our heads like snow.

“Fuck yeah! We did it!”

Laughing, my teammates hoist me up onto their shoulders as I pump my fist in the air, lost in complete elation.

“Stellar season, Huntington.” My coach grins, clapping me on the shoulder as they set me back down. “Don’t think you’re going anywhere anytime soon. We’ve got plans for you.”

The NHL commissioner skates out to center ice for the trophy presentation. He hands the Stanley Cup to Jayce. Since he’s our captain, he’s got the rights to lift that damn thing first, and he raises it high above his head with a triumphant yell.

As the silver gleams under the arena lights and the crowd chants our names, I can’t wipe the smile off my face.Everythingwe fought for, all the blood, sweat, and tears—it led to this perfect, shining moment. My heart feels like it’s about to burst as we head to the locker room to start celebrating.

Inside, all my teammates are bouncing around with their loved ones while Colton pours champagne into the Cup. It’s hilarious how superstitious hockey players are—no one would touch the Cup before we won it, believing it would jinx us. But now, drinking from it after the win is supposed to bring good luck.

We howl and chant just like the fools we are, and I feel like I’m on top of the world. But something is missing.

Handing the Cup off to Malcolm, I turn to Mercer. “Hey, I know I said I’d be at the after-party, but there’s somewhere I gotta be first.”

Mercer raises an eyebrow and slips an arm around my neck, steering me to the far end of the locker room for a more private chat. “More important than celebrating with your team? You know we just won the fucking Stanley Cup, right?”

I wink at him. “We’ll celebrate all summer, coach. Give the others some camera time in the interviews. I’ll make up for it.”

Mercer laughs, a deep rumble as he holds his belly. “Young love, huh?”

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