Page 174 of Game Changer
And it was over. Scott vaulted over the boards, nearly crashing into two of his teammates as the whole team spilled onto the ice together. Sticks and gloves and helmets flew in all directions as they made a beeline to where Bennett stood in front of his net with his arms raised in victory. Within seconds, all of the Admirals had piled onto their goalie in a joyous, thrashing mess of ecstatic hockey players.
Players took turns hugging each other and thumping each other on the back. Scott could hear Carter screaming “Yeaaaaahhhh!” behind him, and when he turned to embrace his friend he was nearly knocked over by the force of Carter jumping up into his arms. He wrapped his legs around Scott’s waist, forcing him to hold him for a second.
“We fucking did it, Scotty!”
“Hell yeah, we did.”
Carter released him and dropped back onto the ice. “Shit, we should probably go line up, huh?”
Scott glanced over at center ice, where the devastated Los Angeles team was waiting in an awkward huddle for the traditional handshakes.
“Right. Yeah. Let’s go.”
He called to his teammates to line up, and they quickly but respectfully shook hands with the L.A. players. A lot of the Los Angeles guys had tears in their eyes. Scott understood. He had been in their position before.
But not tonight. Tonight he had achieved the dream he’d held since childhood.
He waited impatiently as the Stanley Cup was carried out and the league commissioner gave a boring speech. Scott was announced as the playoff MVP, which was an honor, but wasn’t the trophy he wanted to be holding. Besides, it felt ridiculous to be singled out when his entire team had worked so hard to get here. Scott wasn’t a big fan of individual awards.
Finally,finally, Scott, as team captain, was handed the Stanley Cup. He took the giant silver trophy in his hands and it was...awkward to hold, actually. Heavy, but also hard to grip. But Scott certainly wasn’t going to let it slip out of his hands now. He kissed the Cup and then hoisted it triumphantly over his head, turning so the whole crowd could see it. It belonged to New York now: the teamandthe fans.
And that’s when the tears came. Scott let them happen. Everything about the moment was surreal and overwhelming and he had so many thoughts at once.
But mostly,I wish my mom was here to see this.
She would have been so proud of him. And it was her, as much as anyone, who had gotten Scott to this moment. All the hockey schools and trainers and agents in the world wouldn’t have gotten him to the NHL if she hadn’t laid the foundation with her support, and her long hours working at the grocery store so he could afford secondhand hockey gear.
Scott wasn’t religious, but he turned his eyes up to the rafters and quietly said, “This is for you, Mom.”
He handed the Cup to Carter, who kissed it, like, five times before raising it high above him. Scott found Kip in the crowd, across the ice, standing and cheering with everyone else. Scott gave him a little wave. He wasn’t sure if Kip saw it.
It was later, when the ice started to fill up with the wives and girlfriends and children of his teammates, that Scott started to feel it. Mixed with all of his happiness was a troubling feeling ofwrongness. He watched his teammates kiss their partners, and hoist their children up, and Scott wanted to be able to share this moment withhispartner. With the man he loved.
And what would be the harm in having Kip come down onto the ice? The place was a zoo anyway: hockey players and staff and reporters and photographers and family members. Who would even notice if Scott’s boyfriend was among them?
Decision made, he skated over to the glass near Kip. He waved his hands, which a lot of people seemed to notice, but not Kip. Then Scott saw Elena nudge him and say something to him, and point at Scott. Kip looked, and smiled. Scott’s heart fluttered. God, he loved him.
Scott gestured toward the penalty box. Kip made an exaggeratedwhat?face, and Scott gestured again. He saw Elena, again, say something to Kip, and then Kip nodded and pointed toward the penalty box. Scott nodded back, and took off to meet him.
From the box, Scott watched Kip make his way through the crowd. People seemed to be watching this little sideshow they were putting on with great interest.
So much for being subtle.
When Kip reached the glass that separated the seating from the penalty box, he was flushed and grinning and adorable.
And Scott knew he wasn’t going to be able to stop himself from doing something very stupid in a moment.
But...
“Climb over the glass!” Scott yelled. “I’ll catch you.”
“Okay!” Kip stepped onto the ledge and hoisted one leg over the glass. Scott helped him over, and Kip fell into his arms.
“You did it!” Kip said.
“I did it,” Scott agreed.
They stood there for a moment, still holding each other and smiling, and maybe it was the adrenaline pumping through him, or maybe the whole night had just felt like such a wonderful dream and there was only one thing that could make it perfect and that was...
