Page 69 of Slap Shot
"I love you," he said, the words still feeling new and precious.
"I love you too."
Charlie chose that moment to pad into the bedroom, apparently deciding his humans had been alone long enough. The dog settled beside the bed with a contented sigh.
"I think he approves," Heather said.
"Of course he approves. Charlie has excellent taste."
"Must be why he picked you."
"And why I picked you."
"Technically, I picked you first. That day in the coffee shop when I decided you were exactly the expert I needed."
"Technically, Travis picked us both when he decided to destroy everything we cared about."
"Let's not give Travis credit for this." Heather shifted to look at him directly. "We chose each other. Despite the obstacles, despite the danger, despite every reason not to. That's what matters."
Oliver studied her face in the dim light from the street outside. She was right. They'd chosen each other when it would have been easier to walk away, when professional obligations said they shouldn't, when their own fears and past traumas argued against trusting anyone.
"Yeah," he said. "That's what matters."
Tomorrow would bring media attention, team meetings, the slow process of rebuilding after betrayal. But tonight, they were just two people who'd found each other in the midst of chaos and decided to hold on.
It was, Oliver thought as Heather dozed off against his shoulder, more than he'd ever dared to hope for.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Heather
Three weeks after Travis's arrest, Heather stood in the tunnel watching the final seconds tick off the clock as the Chill secured another victory. The arena erupted as the buzzer sounded, twenty thousand fans celebrating a team that had transformed from crisis-management mode to legitimate contender in the span of a month.
Oliver skated toward the bench with his helmet off, sweat-dampened hair catching the arena lights as he grinned at teammates who'd just witnessed him record his second hat trick of the young season. His confidence on the ice had reached levels she'd never seen before, not the careful competence of someone trying to prove himself, but the relaxed dominance of a player who knew exactly where he belonged.
"Hell of a game," she murmured to herself, packing up her laptop while keeping one eye on the celebration unfolding below.
She spent game nights splitting attention between security monitoring and watching the game, though lately she'd been doing more of the latter. The systems were stable, Travis and Kai were both in custody awaiting trial, and for the first time since she'd taken this job, she could actually enjoy hockey instead of constantly scanning for threats.
Tonight, she'd found herself watching Oliver more than her screens. The way he'd threaded that impossible pass to Kane for the second goal. The patience he'd shown setting up Dmitri's power play marker. The pure skill of his hat trickgoal, a backhand top-shelf that had left the opposing goaltender looking like he'd witnessed magic.
"Heather." Coach Vicky appeared beside her, still wearing her game-day blazer despite the controlled chaos of post-victory celebrations. "Outstanding work on the zone entry analysis. That adjustment in the second period was exactly what we needed."
"They executed it perfectly," Heather replied, noting the satisfaction in Vicky's voice. Three weeks of victories had done wonders for the coach's public standing, but more importantly, they'd proven that the team's chemistry had emerged stronger from their shared adversity.
"Oliver's playing the best hockey of his career," Vicky observed, watching him sign autographs for young fans leaning over the glass. "Whatever you two went through together, it unlocked something in him."
"He's always had the talent. Now he has the confidence to use it."
"Confidence that comes from having someone who sees all of him and chooses to stay anyway." Vicky's smile carried the wisdom of someone who understood that the best partnerships transcended their individual components. "That's rare in this business, Heather. Don't take it for granted."
As players finally headed toward the locker room, Heather made her way through the emptying arena toward the parking garage. They'd driven separately to the game. She'd come straight from debugging a system update that had run late. But the post-game routine of heading home together had quickly become her favorite part of game nights.
She was scrolling through her phone when familiar arms wrapped around her waist from behind, Oliver's warmth and the scent of his post-shower soap immediately making her relax against his solid chest.
"Hey, beautiful," he murmured against her ear, his voice carrying the satisfied exhaustion that came from an hour of elite-level hockey. "Miss anything good?"
"Just some guy scoring three goals and showing off for the cameras," she replied, turning in his arms to face him properly. "Though I have to admit, that backhand for the hat trick was pretty impressive."
