Page 132 of Puck Struck
"I know, I'm weird."
"You're perfect."
We sit in silence for a while longer, Cam's hand lost in myhair, my body finally calm for the first time in weeks. The future feels uncertain but not scary. Not anymore.
My phone buzzes with a text from Mike.
James pled guilty to all charges. Got fifteen years. Thought you'd want to know.
I feel the surge of relief soak into every cell. "It's really over," I tell Cam, showing him the message.
"All of it?" My heart melts at the hopeful look on his face.
"All of it. James is going away for a long time. William Keating's career is finished. The media has moved on to other stories. We can just be normal now."
"Normal is overrated," Cam says with a smirk. "But peaceful sounds really good about now."
"Peaceful sounds fucking perfect."
I let my eyes drift closed, imagining the future we’re building. Morning coffee together. Cam's hockey schedule. My graduate classes. Ethan's school events. Tessa's work. Family dinners and quiet evenings and all the beautiful, mundane details of a shared life.
A charmed life.
For someone who spent fourteen years living for the adrenaline rush of professional sports, the idea of ordinary happiness should feel boring.
Instead, it feels like the best possible prize.
epilogue
CAM
NINE MONTHS LATER
The team’s off-season training has been brutal, but worth it. After our early playoff exit last year, everyone came back hungrier and more focused. The past season was kind of like a redemption tour. This time, we made it to the second round before falling to the Stanley Cup champions, the New York Renegades.
But that's hockey. Win some, lose some, get better, try again. And hopefully don’t lose to your arch rivals next time around.
I wait in my car outside the new sports medicine clinic where Logan just finished his first day as a graduate student intern. It's been six months since he started the program at UCSF, and watching him find a new passion has been nothing less than incredible.
He walks out of the building looking tired but satisfied, wearing blue scrubs and carrying a backpack full of textbooks. When he spots me, his face lights up with a smile.
"How was day one, Dr. Shaw?" I ask as he slides into the passenger seat.
"Graduate student intern Shaw," he corrects. "And it was perfect. Exhausting but perfect." He leans over and plants a kiss on my lips. "I worked with a junior hockey player today who's been playing through a shoulder injury for months. Sound familiar?"
"Did you tell him he was an idiot?"
"I told him he was risking his future for short-term gains. More diplomatically than that, obviously."
"Obviously."
He settles back in his seat, and I notice the ring glinting on his finger. The promise ring I gave him nine months ago after his surgery. It's simple platinum, and it matches the one on my own hand.
"How was practice?" he asks.
"Good. Ryan and I are finally clicking on that power play setup Coach has been drilling into us." I pull out of the parking lot and maneuver the car into traffic. "Speaking of which, he wanted me to invite you to his engagement party next weekend."
"Ryan's engaged? No shit.”
