Page 52 of Pucks, Lies, and Sticktape

“Yup. Right here. Hi, you two lovebirds,” he said, his voice brimming with amusement. “Is it my turn to say the words over you, or shall we skip to the rings and kissing?”

Jeannie let out a breathless laugh, the weight of everything crashing into her all at once. She turned to Matthieu, their teary eyes meeting, and suddenly, they were both laughing—soft, joyful, overwhelmed. The moment felt surreal as if she were floating in some dream spun from pure, unfiltered joy.

The crisp scent of ice surrounded them, the distant hum of the crowd fading into a dull roar as she stood beside Matthieu, her heart pounding in her chest. The bright arena lights reflected off the ice, casting a glow that made everything feel almost magical.

Matthieu turned to her, his blue eyes warm and filled with unwavering devotion. “Make it official,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “I could say my vows to Jeannie over and over again…”

A chuckle broke through the moment as Acton grinned and bumped knuckles with Salas. “But we’re not, because we’ve got a game to win,” he quipped. “No offense, fellas, naturally… but we’re gonna kick your butts as soon as the smooch-fest is over.”

A ripple of laughter and jeers echoed around them, but Jeannie barely noticed. Her world had shrunk to the man standing before her, the man who had changed her life in ways she’d never imagined. Matthieu’s chuckle was soft, his fingers tightening around hers as he gazed at her as if she were the only person in existence. “I think you better get started,” he murmured.

And then, with their hands clasped, they spoke their vows. Their voices trembled with emotion, the weight of their promises sinking into the marrow of their souls. They had already declared their love and already made these promises, but somehow, this moment felt different. Final. Unshakable.

Matthieu reached into his pocket, his hand steady as he extended his palm toward her. A simple gold band lay there, gleaming under the arena lights. Jeannie’s breath hitched as her gaze met his, the tenderness in his expression stealing whatever words she might have spoken.

“I told you I had it handled,” he whispered, a teasing glint in his eye. Then, glancing at the minister, he nodded and repeated the sacred words with the steady confidence that was so innately him.

“I, Matthieu Nicholas Larsson, do take thee, Jeannie Marie Thorton Larsson,” he said carefully, his voice rough with emotion. Jeannie bit her lip, knowing exactly why he was being so meticulous—making sure there was no loophole, no way anyone could ever question the legitimacy of their union. He was hers, and she was his.

“I vow to love you, cherish you, and protect you always—in sickness or in health, till death do us part,” Matthieu continued,his fingers shaking slightly as he slid the engagement ring and wedding band onto her finger. The cool metal sent a shiver up her spine, a physical reminder of the promises they had just spoken.

“With these rings, I thee wed… forever and always.”

Jeannie sucked in a breath, blinking rapidly as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she slid the ring onto Matthieu’s fourth finger, watching as a single tear slipped down his cheek. Her heart clenched at the sight. He was hers. Completely, undeniably hers.

The minister’s voice rang out through the arena. “What is promised before God, let no man put asunder. I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride, Mr. Larsson, and then I think we are out of time. They’re waving us off the ice.”

Matthieu exhaled sharply, a slow, decadent smile spreading across his lips as he reached for her veil. His fingers trembled slightly as he lifted it, his eyes drinking her in like she was the most precious thing he had ever seen. Jeannie’s breath caught. That look—full of unspoken promises, heat, and love—sent a shiver down her spine.

She nodded subtly, understanding passing between them without a single word. Tonight. When they were finally alone.

Matthieu’s arms curled around her, pulling her into him as his lips captured hers in a slow, reverent kiss. The world melted away, leaving only them in a perfect, frozen moment. His embrace was warm, and solid, and his love wrapped around her like a second skin.

He pulled back just enough to whisper against her lips, “Save that veil for me… for later.”

Jeannie laughed softly, her fingers tracing his jaw as she whispered back, “I already know…” Her voice wavered with emotion, and she pressed her forehead to his. “I love you.”

His smile softened, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “I love you too, but I’ve gotta go.”

She nodded, understanding. This was his world—his passion, his second love. And she would never stand in the way of that.

“Go kick their butts, honey,” she said loudly, grinning over his shoulder.

Matthieu’s eyes widened slightly before a full, boyish grin spread across his face. The ice erupted in cheers and protests, the opposing team groaning as their own teammates whooped in support.

Still grinning, Matthieu waved over a referee, his voice carrying across the ice. “Can you let everyone know that there’s wedding cake in the atrium for everyone after the game?”

The ref arched a brow. “There’s thousands of people here.”

Matthieu shrugged, flashing Jeannie a smirk that sent warmth rushing through her chest. “I bought a metric crap-ton of cake because I love my wife, and I want the world to know it.”

Jeannie threw her head back, laughing wildly. She shook her head, utterly in disbelief at this incredible man she had just married.

Sure enough, the ref turned to the crowd, announcing, “Per the new bride and groom, there is wedding cake in the atrium for everyone after the game.”

The roar that followed was deafening.

“LET’S FINISH THIS!” Acton bellowed, raising his stick in the air as Salas joined in. Boucher was already locking eyes with an opponent, sending a silent promise of a battle yet to come.

---