Page 134 of Coach's Temptation

He sees Blake breaking free from the box.

The pass is perfect. Blake's gone - nothing but open ice between him and glory.

The entire arena holds its breath.

Blake dekes once, twice... SCORES!

The horn blares. The crowd erupts.

"We've done it!" I shout, throwing a fist into the air.

The Stanley Cup is ours.

My team pours over the boards, sticks and gloves flying. Connor races the length of the ice to tackle Blake. Twenty years of work, of rebuilding after my injury, of proving everyone wrong… it all leads to this moment.

But I don't join the pile. I don't scream or jump or lose my mind like I always imagined.

Instead, I turn.

And there she is. Natalie. My fiancée.

Tears stream down her face as she stands at the bench, wrapped in my jacket. The back still reads "COACH'S FAVORITE", except now the last word is crossed out, replaced with "FIANCÉ."

In this moment of ultimate victory, she's all I see.

I vault over the bench, my legs carrying me straight to her.

Nothing else matters.

Not the Cup, not the cameras, not the roaring crowd.

Just Natalie.

Her eyes lock with mine, emerald green sparkling with tears and joy. She launches herself at me, and I catch her, lifting her off her feet. The world spins as I twirl her, my heart so full it might burst.

"You did it!" she laughs against my lips, breathless and beautiful.

"No, baby." I press my forehead to hers, breathing in this perfect moment. "Like I keep telling you...wedid it."

The celebration explodes behind us. My hands cup her face, thumbs brushing away happy tears as I kiss her like it's the first time. Like it's the last time. Like it's the only time that's ever mattered.

I've chased this dream for two damn decades. The Cup, the glory, the vindication of being tossed away like useless trash. But holding her now, feeling her heart race against mine, I realize something profound…

This, right here, is my real Stanley Cup moment.

"I love you," she whispers, fingers tangling in my hair.

My voice breaks, raw with emotion. "I love you too. You're my whole damn world."

The kiss deepens, and I pour everything into it. The cameras are rolling, green and gray confetti and streamers falling around us.

The whole damn world is watching, but I couldn't care less. Let them see. Let them all see that hockey isn't my everything anymore.

She is.

The media scrum descends like vultures, microphones thrust in my face. Cameras flash, questions overlap into a chaotic buzz. But I keep my arm firmly around Natalie's waist.

"Coach Brody!" A reporter from ESPN pushes forward. "The rumors are swirling—Team USA. You won the contract, sir. Any comment?"

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