With only five minutes left on the clock, we were all thinking it—holy shit, we’re really going to win the Stanley Cup!—but no one wanted to say anything out of fear of jinxing it.
In fact, I wassoafraid of jinxing it, I almost didn’t want to leave when a man in a suit and tie came to fetch me from my seat.
“Ms. Capuano, would you please come with me?” he asked. The lanyard around his neck identified him as an NHL official.
“What? Why?” I asked.
“As owner, it’s your honor to be on the ice when your team lifts the Cup—”
The ladies whipped their heads around, shushing the man who dared jinx us.
“HEY!!!!!!!!!”
“SHHH!!!!!”
He chuckled. “My apologies, Ms. Capuano.In the eventthat the Sin win the Cup, would you like to be part of the on-ice presentation?”
I hesitated. I wasn’t wild about making myself part of the show … but the ladies nudged and pushed me from behind, egging me on.
“Go, sis!”
“You totally deserve it!”
“Yeah, you GOTTA be there! We wouldn’t even have gotten this far without you!”
“Okay, fine,” I said.
My heart hammered in my chest as the official escorted me down to the ice.
I’d just made it behind the bench alongside Coach Miller, Parker, and the rest of the coaching and training staff, when the crowd began to count down the final seconds.
“Ten … nine … eight …”
With the score still 4–0, we officially had this thing in the bag—and Vegas was getting the party started early. The boys on the bench hopped up and down on their skates, hugging each other and jubilantly cheering.
Then the crowd counted off the final seconds, culminating in a triumphant roar:
“Three … two … ONE!”
The horn sounded for the final time, and the party started forreal.Electricity charged the atmosphere as everyone screamed and hugged, and the Sin rushed onto the ice to form one giant team-wide hug, and streamers popped and fell through the air.
Everything was a blur. I congratulated our coaching staff, and they congratulated me, and then the two teams were shaking each other’s hands, and before I knew it, two men in white gloves were carrying the Stanley Cup onto the ice.
“Ottavia! Babe!” Dakota slid to a stop just in front of the bench. He’d traded his helmet for aVegas Sin Stanley Cup Championball cap. His face was flushed, and sweat dripped from the ends of his hair, but the look on his face was one of pure jubilation. He was a man on top of the world. “We won!”
“You did it!” I screamed, rushing to be closer.
“We fuckin’ did it!” He reached over the bench and pulled me into his arms. Our lips met in a salty, triumphant kiss; the culmination of his hard work and determination throughout the season.
The cheers of the crowd and the exhilaration of the victory surrounded us as we held each other close, savoring his achievement together.
“Get out here!” he said, motioning for me to join him.
“Me?!”
“Yeah, you!” He didn’t wait for me to leave the bench; he reached over and whisked me into his arms instead. Skating with me in his arms, we joined the party with the rest of his teammates at center ice, just as Rust, the team captain, raised the Cup to the sky.
His teammates cheered, howling like coyotes.
