Page 145 of Player Misconduct
"Okay," I whisper, pressing a hand to my belly. "We can do this."
A little while later, Juliet peeks through the curtain separating us from the tunnel. "They're about to make the announcement."
The arena noise hums in the distance, thousands of voices layered into a low roar. Then it drops, the announcer's voice booms through the speakers.
"Ladies and gentlemen, during this intermission, the Seattle Hawkeyes have something special for you…"
My heart hammers. Vivi squeezes my hand. Isla presses a tissue into my palm just in case.
The announcer continues: "Please stay in your seats as we celebrate the marriage of Dr. Kendall Hensen and right winger Aleksi Mäkelin!"
The crowd explodes.
Cheers. Whistles. Applause so loud it shakes the walls. Through the curtain, I can see the Jumbotron glowing with a massive Hawkeyes crest overlaid with two interlocked wedding rings.
My hand flies to my mouth, half-laughing, half-crying.
"Guess the secret's out," Vivi says, her eyes shining.
Juliet grins, holding the curtain wider. "Ready to get married on the ice, Dr. Mäkelin?"
The name lands warm and strange andright.
"Ready," I whisper.
The Zamboni doors swing open, and the players glide onto the ice—not in jerseys, but in black tuxedos, skates gleaming under the spotlights. They form two perfect lines flanking a long red carpet that stretches from the tunnel to center ice.
At the end, beneath a white arch strung with fairy lights and Hawkeyes-blue roses, Aleksi waits.
And I can't breathe.
"Ready?" Isla asks softly.
I nod. "Let's do this."
The music swells—a cinematic orchestral version of the song that played in that Nevada bar before the storm, before the motel, before everything changed.
The girls walk first, arm in arm with their husbands: Isla and Kaenan, Vivi and Trey, Peyton and Hunter, Cammy and JP. They all walk down the red carpet with Penelope standing at the end with Aleksi, the crowd roaring as each couple passes.
Penelope got her officiant license so that she could marry us on her ice.
Then it's my turn.
I step onto the red carpet, and the world tilts.
The crowd rises to its feet—eighteen thousand people standing, cheering, phones flashing like a galaxy of stars. The noise is deafening, overwhelming, yet beautiful.
But I don't hear it.
Because across the rink, Aleksi is watching me.
His eyes are locked on mine, his expression open and raw and trembling with something that looks like he's holding back tears. He's in a perfectly fitted tux, hair slicked back, hands clasped in front of him like he's afraid if he moves, he'll wake up and this will all be a dream.
He looks at me like I'm his whole world.
I start walking, slow and careful, and with each step, the fear melts away. The headlines, the board, the months of silence and distance and doubt… all of it fades until there's only him.
Only us.
