Page 110 of Playing Dirty
He did it.
I've never been so proud in my life, knowing how hard he works, how much he trains, and how he carries the weight of it all but somehow still stays so easygoing once he steps away from the rink. I'm screaming and whooping, and when he spots me I can't stop smiling, my cheeks actually hurting from the effort.
Fiadh pulls me into another hug. "Thank you for coming, Margot. Seriously."
"I couldn't miss it!" I yell back, and that's when the broadcast camera finds us, the red light swinging our way, and there I am, forty feet tall on the jumbotron. I just keep jumping up and down, pointing at the Renegades jersey I'm finally wearing with zero shame. Let them fucking talk. Who gives a shit.
Down below, the handshake line is forming, and then the Cup comes out gleaming. They call his name and he takes the Cup and hoists it over his head, screaming at the rafters, and Iscream right back. And when they start letting families onto the ice, Fiadh grabs my hand and pulls.
"Come on, they're letting us down!"
We all surge forward in a chaotic, joyful rush onto the frozen stage, my sneakers finding little traction as we navigate the slick surface. The excitement is a physical thing, thousands of people in a blur of black and gold as the players' families begin to pour out from every gate.
I practically collide with Jonesy in the middle of the melee and pull him into a fierce hug, his exuberant shouting ringing directly in my ear. Then I spot Brittany, who's here for Betts, jumping frantically up and down; she grabs my shoulders and we share a breathless, exhilarated scream.
I pick my way toward Cillian, watching him as he's engulfed by his family in a beautiful wreck of limbs. His helmet is off now, dark hair damp and messy, and I hang back for just a heartbeat, letting them have their moment.
He turns to me then, and steps forward, and I know there's a camera somewhere, an audience of twenty thousand, the whole watching world, but it all seems to melt away into static; there is only him and the frantic, heavy beat of my heart against my ribs.
"I'm so proud of you, Cillian," I manage, tears falling and my voice thick with everything I'm feeling. "That was just... you were incredible."
He smiles at me, his own eyes bright and wet. "Ace, you've no idea how happy I am that you're here."
My heart feels like it might actually burst as I take a shaky step toward him. I almost lose my footing on a patch of ice, but he reaches out and catches me, his hold steady and sure.
"You alright there?" His Irish accent rolls through every word.
In an instant, I'm thrown back to the stone terrace and that first night at the launch party, back when he caught me on the cobblestones and I was convinced I hated him. I suddenly feel asthough time has folded in on itself, every step since that night leading exactly here, and I could almost laugh at how much has changed between that catch and this one. At howrightit all feels.
I've never put much stock in fate, or meant-to-be's, or any of it, but standing here on this ice, I think that in every lifetime, I'd find my way to him. Looking up into those deep blue eyes now, I'm so fully and madly in love, and it feels like every single thing has finally come full circle.
He smiles down at me, his gaze heavy and warm. "Ace?"
I look around at the chaos of the arena, the cheering crowds and the flashing cameras, but none of it registers. There is only him, his eyes locked on mine with a certainty that makes my heart ache.
"Listen," I say, needing to get the words out. "I need to apologize for everything."
"You don't need to say a word," he murmurs, brushing my cheek.
"I do," I insist, feeling flustered and a touch frantic. "It wasn't fair of me to shut you out just because I let a panic attack turn into a total meltdown. I know it's not how a relationship works, and I love yousomuch, and the last two weeks were just... ugh. I mean, now probably isn't the time for a full debrief, since the whole world is watching, and you just won the Cup, I mean I don’t even know why I’m trying to say all this now when?—"
He pulls me in close, smiling down at me with a tenderness that makes my knees weak, and I finally stop my babbling to just look up at him.
"Margot," he says, his voice low and certain. "I am completely and madly in love with you. The rest, we'll figure out together. All of it."
"I love you too," I whisper, laughing through the tears. "Madly. Completely."
I smile up at him, my soul finally finding its center, and thenhe leans down and kisses me. It's warm and hungry and deep, a private world in the middle of the screaming crowd and the families bumping into us. His arm pulls me in tight, and I kiss him back with everything I have. It feels like home, like all is right in the world at last.
EPILOGUE
Cillian
Four months later
Connemara, Ireland
The view over the Atlantic is nothing short of grand. Jagged cliffs plunge into a sea so vibrant it looks painted, the surf thundering against stone while the wind carries salt and the distant, lonely cries of gulls.
