Sebastian POV
The Kings' locker room still smelled like the win. Sweat, old blood, wet gear, and the sharp edge of adrenaline that had not fully burned off yet. Stall after stall was packed with heavy pads and damp jerseys.
The Stanley Cup sat on the velvet-lined table in the center of the room under the hard fluorescent lights, its silver surface catching every flash from the phones the guys kept lifting.
Still damp from the ice and the champagne they had already poured over it
Laughter bounced off the walls.
Someone threw a wet towel across the room, and it slapped against a locker with a wet sound. Voices talked over each other about the hits from Game 7, the blocked shots, the final buzzer.
I sat in the captain's stall at the far end and worked on the laces of my sk
