Page 116 of Right Pucking Daddy

The buzzer blared, and the horn sounded.

And the announcer yelled through the PA system, “With a snipe, Mercer sinks a puck, scoring a goal in his NHL debut and taking the W for the Hawks!”

My linemates surrounded me, thumping my shoulders and back. The bench emptied, Nighthawks pouring over the boards. Players and coaches rushed us.

And there, coming through the gate, was the man of my dreams, Hawk walking proudly at his side. This sort of chaos put him through a wringer, but Alex strode across the ice toward me like we were the only two people in the building.

I pushed through the madness, pulling the bucket from my head. Dropping the helmet, my stick, and finally, gloves to the ice as I made my way toward him. The man I loved beyond measure, who made me feel loved and seen in ways I never would’ve thought possible.

As I reached him, he pulled me into his arms. My skates lifted me so we were nose to nose.

“I love you, baby boy,” he murmured against my lips as he kissed me right there in the middle of the ice for all the world to see.

THE END