Page 28 of My Athlete Neighbor

The balcony door slid open. "Borscht gets cold," Dmitri announced. "Also, walls are thin and we can all hear your beautiful confession. Very romantic. Like Tchaikovsky ballet."

"Dmitri." Kane's tone was warning, but his ears were red.

"Fine, fine. But hurry back. Is time for pelmeni, and Kane's technique needs work."

The door closed again. Kane pressed his forehead to Allison's, laughing softly. "So... are we okay?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "We are. Though your pelmeni technique really does need work."

"I'll have you know my technique is perfectly adequate."

She kissed him then, soft and sweet and full of promise. Behind them, the team burst into cheers and wolf whistles. Through the glass, she could see Oliver filming, Dmitri wipingaway fake tears, and Marcus already calculating something on his phone.

"Should we give them something worth filming?" Kane murmured against her lips.

"Absolutely not." But she was smiling as she pulled him back inside, where the warmth of team dinner and family video calls and future possibilities waited. The puck might have brought them together, but what kept them together was something far more powerful than luck.

Chapter Eleven

Allison's footsteps echoed in the concrete tunnel leading to the Charm City Chill locker room. The familiar weight of her grandfather's puck sat in her purse, but for once, she wasn't thinking about luck or superstition. She was thinking about the way Kane's eyes lit up when he smiled, how his hand felt in hers, the quiet moments between the chaos of hockey and neighbors and expectations.

The security guard recognized her now, giving her a knowing wink as she passed. Music thumped from behind the locker room door—pre-game warmup playlist, heavy on bass and energy. She knocked.

Kane opened the door, already in his base layers but not yet fully geared up. His face broke into that crooked smile that made her heart stumble. "Hey you."

"Hey yourself." She stepped inside, suddenly shy despite everything they'd shared. "I brought—"

"I don't care about the puck." He pulled her into a quiet corner behind the equipment racks, his hands settling on her waist. "I care that you're here."

The locker room should have smelled like hockey gear and rubber mats, but all she could smell was Kane's cologne and the mint of his pre-game gum. "The team—"

"Can wait." His lips found hers, soft but insistent. She melted into him, fingers curling in his practice jersey. He tasted like victory and possibility and everything she'd been afraid to want.

A wolf whistle shattered the moment.

"Get it, Captain," Dmitri's voice carried through the room. "Is better than lucky puck."

They broke apart to find the team filing in, equipment bags over shoulders and knowing grins on faces. Kane's ears were red, but he kept one arm around her waist.

"The puck witch graces us." Dmitri executed a dramatic bow. "And brings magic."

"I’m not...” Allison started, but Oliver cut her off.

"You brought it, right? We're playing Boston. We need all the luck we can get."

"I—yes, but—"

"What is going on in here?" Coach Vicky's voice cut through the chatter. She stood in the doorway, auburn hair pulled back severely, forest green blazer impeccable. Her eyes narrowed at Allison. "No unauthorized personnel in the locker room before games. You know better, Kane."

"Sorry, Coach." Kane squeezed Allison's hand. "We were just—"

"Saying goodbye." Allison extracted herself from his embrace. "Good luck today."

"Out," Coach Vicky ordered.

The familiar trek to the friends and family seats felt different today. Final game with the puck. Final time dealing with superstitions and expectations. Time to be just Allison and Kane, without the weight of luck and legacy between them. She’d tell him later. She’d go to the games, but the puck would stay home.

Pauline was already in their usual spot, phone in hand. "You're late! Did you bring—"

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