Page 148 of Cold Feet
Goal.
The arena exploded. 4-3 Slashers, with thirty-one seconds remaining.
"What a goal by Cameron Murphy!" the play-by-play announcer shouted over the roar of the crowd.
His color commentator chimed in, "Looks like someone's found their center off the ice, too. That engagement ring might be the best equipment upgrade of the season."
Cam's teammates mobbed him, a tangle of teal jerseys and sticks raised in triumph. When he emerged from the pile, he skated to the glass directly in front of where I stood, pounding the logo on his chest twice before blowing me a kiss.
I caught it, pressing my hand to my heart, not caring who saw or what they thought. This was our moment – real, unscripted, and perfect.
The final half-minute was a blur of defensive plays and cleared pucks, and when the horn sounded, sealing the Slashers' victory, the celebration was deafening.
In the post-game media scrum, reporters crowded around Cam, microphones thrust toward him as camera lights bathed him in artificial brightness.
"Cam, great game," one reporter said. "What's changed in your approach?"
Cam, still in his jersey, sweat dampening his hair, smiled. "I'm just playing like I'm home. When you're with the people who matter – your team, your family – everything becomes clearer. The ice feels right. The puck feels right. I'm just... right where I belong."
A reporter fromHockey Nightasked, "Your decision to stay with the Slashers despite Montreal's significant offer has surprised many. Was that decision influenced by your relationship with Lana Decker?"
I watched his eyes on the TV screen in the VIP box. "Lana is the most important person in my life. So yes, she was a factor. But so were my teammates, the organization, and the city of St. Pete. This is home. And I just finally realized that home is worth a lot more to me than a bigger paycheck."
After the interviews, after the showers and changed clothes, the team gathered at Ocean Prime – a team tradition after important victories. In a private room with views of the bay, players, coaches, and staff celebrated not just tonight's win, but the journey of the past week.
Logan raised a glass, the captain's voice cutting through the chatter. "To the Slashers – and to Cam & Lana who FINALLY figured out what the rest of us have been seeing all along."
"The Slashers," everyone echoed.
As the night wore on, I found myself sitting beside Zayne, who had been uncharacteristically quiet.
"You okay?" I asked, bumping his shoulder gently with mine.
He nodded, watching Cam across the room, deep in conversation with Coach Rocco. "Yeah. Just thinking."
"About?"
"How things change." He turned to look at me directly. "For the better, I mean."
I smiled, warmed by the rare openness in my brother's expression. "They do. Sometimes when you least expect it."
Zayne sipped his beer. "You know, when I first saw you two at the NHL awards, I was ready to kill him. More than a decade of friendship, and I was ready to throw it all away."
"I remember," I said dryly.
"But watching you two together – it's different than what I thought. He's different with you." Zayne set his beer down with surprising gentleness. "He loves you. Not just saying it. I can see it."
"I love him too," I said softly.
"I know." Zayne's lips twitched in what might have been a smile. "And as weird as it is to say, you both deserve this. To be happy. Together."
Before I could respond to this shocking and unprecedented display of emotional openness from my brother, Cam appeared beside us, sliding an arm around my waist.
"Everything okay here?" he asked, looking between us with slight concern.
"Fine," Zayne said, resuming his usual gruff demeanor. "Just telling Lana that you better make me best man. And I guess I'm going to need a date for the wedding."
Cam's eyebrows shot up, and I felt my cheeks warm. "The wedding?"
