My Hockey Heartthrob: A Promise in Overtime

Chapter Forty-Five

The team celebration runs long into the night, the locker room and then a private hotel ballroom filling with the specific, loose euphoria of a championship won, and it's nearly midnight before Adrian finally slips away from it, finding Mara waiting exactly where he asked her to — the same small courtyard behind the arena where everything between them finally, honestly began.

He's still in his suit from the postgame ceremony, tie loosened, a champagne-adjacent glow to him that Mara suspects has less to do with actual champagne and more to do with the specific, total joy of having just won the biggest game of his career.

"You found me," he says, crossing the courtyard toward her, something soft and certain in his expression.

"You told me exactly where to look." Mara stands as he approaches, and for a moment neither of them says anything else, just standing together in the quiet courtyard, the distant sound of the ongoing celebration barely audible from here.

"I meant what I did tonight," he says, finally. "The gesture, with the stick, in front of everyone. I know it wasn't subtle. I don't think I wanted it to be subtle. I'm tired of being careful about this, Mara. I'm tired of five years of careful."

"I noticed," Mara says, smiling. "Half the arena noticed, probably. There's likely already a headline about it."

"Let there be a headline. I don't care anymore. I spent five years so afraid of what the world might do if it saw us together that I let the fear cost us everything. I'm not doing that again. Whatever comes — more headlines, more speculation, whatever — I'd rather have all of it, publicly, with you, than one more day of careful, private silence."

Mara feels something in her chest c***k open, warm and total, and closes the remaining distance between them, resting her forehead against his the way he did on a stairwell six years ago, the way he did in a courtyard weeks ago, the specific, grounding gesture that has apparently, somehow, survived everything that's happened between them.

"I love you," she says, quiet, the words arriving easily now, five years of careful restraint finally, fully given way. "I never stopped. I want you to know that clearly, without any ambiguity. Whatever else happened, whatever pain either of us caused, I never stopped loving you."

"I never stopped either," Adrian says, voice thick. "Every single day, for five years, whatever careful version of myself I performed for the rest of the world. I love you, Mara. I loved you in that stairwell six years ago, and I love you now, more than I think I even understood I was capable of, and I am never, under any circumstances, going to let five years of silence happen between us again."

They stand together in the quiet courtyard for a long moment, both of them crying now, the specific mixture of joy and grief and hard-won relief that comes with finally, fully arriving somewhere you'd almost given up believing you'd ever reach.

"I have something for you," Adrian says, finally, pulling back slightly, reaching into his jacket pocket with hands that aren't entirely steady. "I've been carrying it around all tournament, actually. I wasn't sure when, or if, I'd ever have the courage to give it to you. But I think tonight's the right night."

He produces a small velvet box, and Mara feels her whole chest go tight, recognizing it instantly, even before he opens it.

"Is that—"

"The same ring. From the stairwell." He opens the box, and there it is, small and simple and exactly as it was six years ago, aged slightly with time but otherwise unchanged. "I never got rid of it, even when I thought I should have. I mailed you a scarf once, anonymously, years ago, hoping some small piece of us might survive even if the rest didn't. I could never bring myself to do the same with this. I think some part of me always knew I wasn't done with the promise it represented, even during the years I was too much of a coward to say so out loud."

"You mailed me the scarf," Mara says, understanding suddenly landing, the small unresolved mystery from weeks ago finally, fully explained. "I never knew who sent it. I kept it anyway, all these years, without knowing why it felt important."

"I'm glad you kept it. I'm glad, somehow, some part of both of us kept holding onto pieces of this, even during the years we couldn't hold onto each other." He looks at her, something enormous and certain in his expression. "I'm not asking you to marry me tonight. I know we still have real work to do, rebuilding trust, learning how to actually be honest with each other day to day, not just in the big, dramatic moments. But I want you to have this back. Not as a proposal. As a promise, renewed, that whatever it takes, however long it takes, I want forever with you. The same forever I promised you six years ago, except this time, I intend to actually keep it."

Mara looks at the ring, small and simple and carrying six years of complicated history, and feels something in her chest settle into place completely — not blind hope this time, not the total, unguarded faith of a twenty-one-year-old who'd never yet been taught how badly promises can break, but something steadier, more hard-won, the specific certainty of someone who's survived enough to actually know the weight of what she's choosing.

"I want that too," she says, quiet, certain. "The same forever. Renewed. Earned this time, instead of just promised."

He slides the ring onto her finger, hands steadier now, and kisses her again, slow and certain in the quiet courtyard, and Mara feels, for the first time since a stairwell six years ago, genuinely, fully whole.

They stay in the courtyard a long while after, talking quietly about everything and nothing, the distant sound of the championship celebration finally beginning to wind down somewhere behind them.

"I should call Selene," Mara says, eventually, glancing at the ring on her finger with something like disbelief still settling into place. "She's going to want to know about this immediately."

"She already knows," Adrian admits, a little sheepish. "I asked her permission, actually, before tonight. Not because I needed it, exactly, but because I wanted her blessing, given everything she's meant to both of us."

"What did she say?"

"She cried. Then she told me if I ever hurt you again, she'd personally make sure I regretted it, which I fully believe and fully respect." Adrian laughs, warm and genuine. "Then she told me she was proud of both of us, and that she couldn't think of anyone else she'd rather have as family, officially, rather than just informally."

Mara feels tears rise again, warm and grateful, thinking about the family she's built, against every reasonable expectation, out of the wreckage of the worst year of her life — Selene, who found her in the woods and never let go; Adrian, who broke her heart and, somehow, against all odds, found his way back to keeping the promise he made in a stairwell; and herself, finally, fully whole, standing in a quiet courtyard with a ring on her finger and an entire honest future stretched out ahead of her.

"I love you," she says again, simply, watching the words land on his face with the same warmth they always seem to now.

"I love you too," Adrian says, pulling her close. "Forever, this time. I promise."

And for the first time in five years, Mara believes, completely, that the promise is going to hold.