Page 72 of Gravity
Hunter's eyes meet mine. I strip myself from the tangle of the Seattle players against the boards. Half the crowd is counting down the seconds—ten, nine, eight—and the other half are screamingOléat the top of their lungs.
I reach Hunter with five seconds remaining. We turn together and skate toward the Seattle goal. MacKenzie appears on my right. Slava on Hunter's left. Tears are streaming down Slava's face. MacKenzie is cursing at the top of his lungs. Behind us, Etienne is roaring.
Three. Two.
Hunter passes the puck to me, and it hits the blade of my stick as the clock passesoneand the buzzer blasts.
End of game. Montréal 3, Seattle 2.
We are the Stanley Cup Champions.
I fly toward Hunter and we collide. He throws his arms around me, and the force of our hug takes us both to the ice.Be my date when we win the Cup?I'd asked him months ago, had dared to dream that this moment could actually happen, and now it's here, and we're here, and he's with me. He's with me and we are the champions.
We're still on the ice, Hunter flat on his back, me draped on top of him. He's holding on to me with his face buried in my neck pad. He's shaking, sobbing, chanting my name. I can barely hear him through the cacophony of the arena.
Our teammates are everywhere. The bench is empty. Everyone is on the ice. Valery is hugging Janne, then MacKenzie, then Etienne. MacKenzie is bawling, skating from man to man and throwing his arms around each of us. Slava is on his knees with his forehead on the ice. Etienne has his head tipped back, the tears gliding down his cheeks glistening under the lights of the arena.
Hunter and I push to our feet, and in moments, we're surrounded. Valery, MacKenzie, Etienne, Janne, Karel. Slava, though he rises slowly and skates gingerly. Valery gets his shoulder beneath Slava’s arm to take the weight off his injured foot. Slava sinks against him and smiles. MacKenzie kisses Slava's temple.
We wrap our arms around each other until we're one great mass of brothers. We're all smiling. Most of us are crying.
“Allez Montréal!”I shout. My voice is strong and clear as it rings out over the ice.“Vive les Étoiles! Allez Montréal!”
“Allez Montréal!”my brothers repeat.“Allez Montréal!”
* * *
There'spageantry after a Cup win. Red carpets are unrolled, and there are handshakes and speeches, but all anyone cares about is the Cup. Seeing it, touching it. Holding it high over your head.
My senses have narrowed to a pinprick. All I am aware of are my brothers beside me and the Cup gleaming on its stand thirty feet away. Hunter has his arm around my shoulders, MacKenzie has his arm around my waist. Valery is on MacKenzie's other side, and our whole team forms one long, looping chain.
The league commissioner is standing on the red carpet beside the Stanley Cup, making his speech to the arena. “It has been twenty-one years since Montréal has hefted this Cup,” he says. He gestures to, but won't touch, the Cup. It's ours. We've earned it, and there's only one man who gets to touch it first after the winning game. “Join me in congratulating the Étoiles for their win tonight. And, even more inspiring than what they've accomplished this evening, I want to congratulate the Étoiles for their exceptional commitment to overcoming their personal hardships and challenges that they have faced, both individually and as a team.”
The arena erupts in applause. I feel Hunter start to tremble. MacKenzie slides his hand up from my waist and lays it on Hunter's arm. I lean my cheek against MacKenzie's shoulder, then against Hunter's neck.L'amour de ma vieet mon frères.
“Tonight, after a fantastic game, and on behalf of the National Hockey League, it is my absolute honor to invite the Montréal Étoiles captain, Bryce Michel, to come and hoist the Stanley Cup for his team.”
My vision blurs, turning to fractured diamonds as I skate across the ice to the commissioner. Roaring soaks my senses. Applause, cheers, theOlé. My name. My number. My heart is pounding. My hands are trembling. I can barely breathe. I put one hand on the Cup. Sparklers burst behind me, scattering embers across the ice. The cheering is deafening, skull-splitting. I turn back to my team, my brothers, andl'amour de ma vie—
I see joy, love, pride. Exultation. Glory. I see my teammates, my brothers, my family.
I keep the Cup low at my waist as I skate back to them. I don't want to lift this Cup alone. This isourvictory, and we are meant to celebrate together.
So when they surround me, when I am encircled by my brothers, when Hunter and I are looking into each other's eyes—
Only then do I heft the Cup over my head and unleash a scream.I want to be by your side when I heft the Cup.I said it, I meant it, and now the moment is here. My teammates have their hands on me, squeezing my shoulders, my arms, hugging me, kissing my cheeks. I keep staring into Hunter's eyes.Without you,mon amour, this wouldn't have happened. Without you, I would be nothing.Tu es l'amour de ma vie.Tu es mon rêve devenu réalité.
Hunter wraps his arms around my waist and presses his forehead to mine. Twenty thousand eyeballs are staring down at us and millions more are watching on television. I don't care.Kiss me,mon amour. Kiss me and let's show the world what true love means.
And, he does.
We kiss as I hold the Cup over our heads. Our teammates are shouting. Hunter's hand cups my cheek, and I smile against his lips as a million camera flashes strobe and sparkle.
“I love you,” Hunter whispers.
MacKenzie takes the Cup from me next. He holds it high and kisses the plating before he passes it to Valery. Valery and Slava hold the Cup together. The Cup passes from teammate to teammate, circling the two of us. My hands wrap around Hunter's waist. We are at center ice, at the center of the team, the center of my life. The center of my beating heart.L'amour de ma vie, pour toujours.
“Je t'aime aussi, mon coeur.”
