Page 89 of The Boyfriend Zone

"You beautiful bastard!" Zach shouted in my ear, his face wet with what might have been sweat or tears or both. "I knew you could do it!"

"We did it," I corrected, my own voice rough with emotion. "All of us. Together."

The celebration seemed to last forever and no time at all—a blur of hugs and high-fives, the presentation of the championship trophy, the medals placed around our necks one by one. When my name was called as Tournament MVP, the honor seemed almost secondary to the team achievement, though the pride in my teammates' faces as I accepted the plaque was something I'll never forget.

In that moment of recognition, I found myself skating toward the glass where Lucas stood, holding up the MVP plaque and pointing first at him, then at my heart—a silent dedication to the person who had seen me at my worst and still believed in my best. Lucas's face flushed with happiness, his professional composure momentarily abandoned as he gave me an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

After the formal ceremonies, as we made our way back toward the locker rooms for a more private team celebration, I spotted Lucas waiting in the corridor. I had just enough time to set down my trophy before he launched himself at me, wrapping me in a hug that might have hurt if I hadn't been riding such an adrenaline high.

"You did it!" he exclaimed, eyes bright with unshed tears. "Sean, you were—I don't even have words, and I'm a journalist!"

I laughed, holding him close despite the various aches making themselves known now that the game was over. "I had a pretty good feeling about it when you said you believed in me."

Lucas pulled back slightly, his expression shifting from excitement to concern as he noticed my wince. "Your shoulder—how bad is it? Should we find Dr. Shaw?"

"Hurts like hell," I admitted, the honesty coming easily now. "But I'd do it all again in a heartbeat."

Despite my assurance, Lucas flagged down Dr. Shaw as he passed, his protective instincts in full force. The doctor led me to the training room for a quick examination, confirming what I'd suspected—a minor strain, painful but not serious, nothing that rest and proper care wouldn't heal.

"Ice for twenty minutes, alternating with heat," Dr. Shaw instructed, fashioning a temporary sling to immobilize the joint. "And actual rest this time, Mitchell. No 'light workouts' or 'just keeping limber' nonsense."

"Scout's honor," I promised, enduring his skeptical look with a sheepish smile. "I've learned my lesson, I swear."

Lucas, who had refused to leave my side during the examination, nodded firmly. "I'll make sure he follows instructions."

"See that you do," Dr. Shaw replied, his stern expression softening slightly. "Congratulations on the win. That was one hell of a shot, injury and all."

As we prepared to rejoin the team celebration, I pulled Lucas aside into a quiet alcove, taking his face in my hands with a tenderness that belied the adrenaline still coursing through me.

"Thank you," I said simply, trying to infuse the words with the depth of what I was feeling.

Lucas chuckled, his hands coming to rest lightly on my waist. "For what this time? The list is getting pretty long."

"For everything," I replied seriously.

The kiss we shared was gentle. When we broke apart, Lucas's eyes were soft.

"So, MVP," he said lightly, though his gaze remained tender. "Where are you taking me to celebrate?"

I laughed, glancing down at my sling. "Anywhere you want. But you might have to help me carry this trophy around since I'm down an arm."

"Deal," Lucas agreed, picking up the heavy championship trophy with exaggerated effort. "Though I might need to add weight training to my journalism curriculum if this is a regular occurrence."

"Planning to date a lot of championship winners, are you?" I teased.

"Just the one," Lucas replied, his smile softening. "He's more than enough for me."

We rejoined our friends—Zach in the process of dumping a cooler of sports drink over a laughing, protesting Nate, Ava capturing it all with her camera—and I was struck by how perfectly everything had aligned. The championship was the culmination of years of work, yes, but the real victory was this: finding my place in a circle of people who loved me not just for what I could do on the ice, but for who I was off it.

As Lucas passed the trophy to Tristan and returned to my side, slipping his arm carefully around my waist, I knew with absolute certainty that whatever came next—pro hockey, graduate school, some combination of both—the most important part was already secured. We had built something together that transcended sport or school or career, something that would endure long after the shine on the championship trophy had dulled.

And that was the greatest win of all.

Chapter 29: Lucas

The university's banquet hall had been transformed for the hockey team's thank-you dinner, with table centerpieces in team colors and a highlight reel from the season playing on a projector at the front of the room. I adjusted my tie nervously as Sean and I approached the entrance, his hand warm and reassuring at the small of my back.

"Relax," he murmured, guiding me through the doors. "Everyone here already knows you. They're not going to judge you for being my plus-one."

---