Page 95 of Sleepless Nights and Hockey Fights

I dip her over my arm and lay one on her that she’ll remember for the rest of her life. Our friends cheer and Matthew groans something about adults being gross. All I care about is that Molly is mine and I take care of what’s mine. I wasn’t kidding about what I said to her. I intend to show her every day for the rest of our lives how much I love her and cherish her. I never thought something would occupy my thoughts more than hockey, but here we are. I’m obsessed with my wife.

After a disturbingly long time, I let her come up for air. Our guests have mostly wandered off to the tables in the back of the yard where Richie conned the Irish Rogue into catering our wedding. There’s a beer keg on tap and all the fried foods one can eat. You’d be surprised how much greasy grub professional athletes can eat when they let loose.

Molly pulls a tissue out of the plunging neckline of her wedding dress and swipes it across my lips. “That’s better. My lipstick clashed with your gold shoes.”

I wag my eyebrows and hold her hand, lacing my fingers with hers. “There’s some other places on me I’d like to find your lipstick, wife.”

Her cheeks turn pink. “So no more Sparkle or fluffernutter? Now you’re just going to call me wife all the time?”

Fuck, I love the way that sounds. “Damn right.”

And then we celebrate with our friends all night.

Our chosen family that never gave up on either of us.

Bonus Epilogue

Roman

Winning the Cup the year I retired felt like it was the pinnacle of my life. Then I married Olivia and I realized that while the trophy and the fanfare were nice, waking up every morning next to her is even better. Way fuckin’ better, especially when she lets me get her naked and show her how not-old I really am.

“What’s that look on your face, ice bath king?” Olivia murmurs, snuggling into my side.

The crowd is cheering for their teams down on the ice like everything’s on the line. And in some ways, it is. Years of practice and sacrifice and money and injuries have culminated in two teams making it all the way to competing to win the holy grail in the ice hockey world.

“Thinking about getting you naked,” I reply with a wolfish grin.

Olivia jabs me in the ribs, hard. “Seriously. Why are you so uncharacteristically quiet?”

I look around us and see the wives, girlfriends, parents, siblings, and friends of the Storm Chasers in the suite with us.The team is giving it their all out there, sweat pouring down their faces despite the chill of the ice. It’s game seven of the finals, and both the Storm Chasers and Pittsburgh have three wins. This game is for all the marbles.

The coaches, while looking spiffy in their suits, look like they’re about to lose their ever-loving minds, gesturing wildly and tapping on their iPads to pull up stats and plays. The music is pumping through the speakers and fans are coordinating cheers. You can feel the manic energy in the air like a living, breathing thing.

Bobby hasn’t gotten in any fights, having successfully handed off the responsibility of enforcer to Goose, one of the new guys. Druggy has stopped more pucks than I can count tonight. Banks looks like I remember him almost a decade ago, swift, cunning, and lethal. My feet itch to get out there on skates and join them, never mind being in my midforties.

I feel like a proud father, watching the young ones carry the torch all the way to the end.

It’s tied 2-2 with only three minutes to go. Bobby starts mouthing off, and I’m too far away to hear exactly what he said, but I can imagine it’s something off the wall and as hard hitting as a sucker punch. Some of the Pittsburgh players get in his face and Goose glides in there with a rough shove. The refs break them up but it’s enough of a disturbance to make Pittsburgh a little too aggressive on the next play, purposely tripping Banks. We get the power play with a little over a minute to go, and everyone is on their feet.

The puck is flying, precision and perfectly practiced plays creating a dizzying back and forth that leads to Banks flying straight for the net. He pulls back and I swear to god, time hangs frozen in place. The crowd noise dims, and nothing matters but the flick of his wrist. Nobody knows more than me that certain moments in our lives can change absolutely everything. Hissteady wrist unleashes and it’s so fast you can’t even track the puck.

The buzzer sounds, the lights flash, and every black and gold jerseyed player holds their stick in the air triumphantly. The ladies are jumping for joy, Olivia’s screaming my ear off, and I...well, I can’t seem to see past the tears flooding my vision. These guys. These former teammates. These friends-turned-family. They mean the world to me and in twenty-eight seconds, that Cup could be theirs.

I don’t make another noise, not even through the final buzzer where the fans go wild at another Storm Chasers win, or the suite that fills with confetti, not even when we’re ushered down to the ice to watch the awards up close. I thought holding that silver cup in my own hands would mean everything to me, but watching the next generation hold it high in the air with ear-to-ear smiles on their faces with their wives and babies watching brings me even more joy.

A female broadcaster thrusts a microphone in my face. “Roman LaFontaine, how does it feel to see your team take home another Stanley Cup without you?”

I smile at the woman, knowing she couldn’t possibly understand. “It feels exactly right. I know more than anyone how much these guys have sacrificed to be here, and I couldn’t be more proud. Now go interview one of them and leave this old guy to blubber in the stands.”

She laughs and swings the microphone to Banks as he glides off the ice. Kaitlyn kisses him, then hands him Mei. He holds her more carefully than the Cup, looking like the proud father I know he is. He expertly fields a question from the reporter amid the chaos.

Chloe and Ayana tag team Druggy as he comes over. He picks them both up and over the barrier, one under each arm and spins them around. Coach hands out champion hats to allthe players, along with hugs. Dan-O takes a victory lap around the ice with the Cup held over his head before handing it off to another player and sweeping his wife and kids into his arms.

It’s a surreal moment, one these guys will remember for the rest of their lives. Olivia wraps her arms around me and lays her head on my shoulder.

“You love them, don’t you?”

“I love the sport, I love the guys, I love the victory, and even the defeat.” I turn toward her, cupping her pretty face. “But never as much as I love you.”

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