Page 131 of My Pucked Up Enemy

He raises it high over his head, turning in a full circle so the fans can see. Then he hands it over to our captain, Connor, who grabs it with both hands, eyes wide, almost reverent.

Connor lifts the Cup and skates a full lap around the ice, hoisting it high above his head as he glides past section after section of screaming fans. People are pressed to the glass, waving signs, crying, clapping, chanting his name. He taps his chest and points skyward, soaking in every heartbeat of this once-in-a-lifetime moment.

Then he glides toward me, grinning ear to ear.

And passes it to me.

The moment the metal touches my hands, every bruise, every scar, every early morning and late-night grind, vanishes.

I raise it to the rafters and take my lap.

The crowd ignites again, a wall of sound that rattles through me. It’s not just noise, it’s the city lifting us onto its shoulders. Their roar isn’t just celebration; it’s an anthem. And right in the heart of it all, I’m more alive than I’ve ever been.

Champions.

Forever.

***

Later, after the Cup has made its rounds and the final photo flashes fade, reporters surge onto the ice like sharks. One makes a beeline for me, mic already raised.

"Alex! Alex!" she calls, catching my eye.

I stop, breath heaving, helmet tucked under my arm, and nod.

“Alex, you just won the Stanley Cup. Conn Smythe. Franchise history made tonight. What’s going through your head right now?”

I pause, still sweaty, still reeling.

Her microphone is in my face. Cameras in every direction.

“This team? This family? We didn’t just survive a season. We found something in ourselves—something bigger. We played with heart. With grit. And maybe a little magic.”

I don’t say her name. I don’t have to.

The reporter raises an eyebrow and leans in. “What does this win mean for you personally?”

And before I answer, I see her walking the red carpet right toward me. She stops right behind the reporter, waiting for me to finish the interview."

It's my moment and I say what I've wanted to say for weeks now.

“It means I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. Some wins happen on the ice. Others… they sneak up on you when your guard’s down, when you least expect it. And somehow, those are the ones that ultimately mean the most.”

"Thanks, Alex. And congratulations again."

She backs away as I hand off the mic, leaving nothing else between me and...

Nina.

She’s already stepping into me.

Her arms around my neck. My hands around her waist.

The kiss is everything. Fire and relief. Real and raw.

Behind us, the celebration rages on. But right now it’s just her.

My win I never saw coming.

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