One second I’m defending my goalie, the next I’m slammed into the boards by two hundred and twenty pounds of Waters. We both scramble, grabbing each others’ jerseys to keep from going down. There’s a whole lot of noise from the crowd. I drop and take Waters with me. My head hits the ice; thankfully the helmet does what it’s supposed to, but the impact still stuns me. I try pushing him off, but he’s heavy, and I don’t have much leverage, ice being slippery and all. Finally he rolls off and gets to his knees.

“Miller?” Waters drops his glove. For a second I think he’s going to hit me. Then he snaps his fingers in my face. “You all right, man?”

I give my head a shake. “I’m fine. Just don’t go punching me in the face again.”

I grab his jersey instead of his hand, and he loses his balance again. A whistle blows, and the buzzer sounds.

“Stop trying to make out with me and give me your hand, Butterson.”

I drop a glove and manage to take his outstretched hand this time. “Stop trying to hump me on the ice.”

He grunts as he pulls me to my feet. Then he laughs and keeps a solid hold on my jersey until I have my balance. “You were supposed to get out of the way so I could score.”

“Fuck that.” I butt my head against his. “I wanna win more than I want you to like me.”

He raises my arm in the air, boxer style. “Nice save. Next time you won’t be so lucky.”

It’s then that I realize stopping the goal won us the game.

It’s a whirlwind of excitement and activity as players flood the ice. The high is almost as good as when we won the Cup. I skate over to the bench and get Michael out on the ice. We carry him around on our shoulders like he’s the Cup. In a way he is. He’s the reason we all came together for this—and the reason things just keep getting better between me and Sunny.

She’s waiting for me when I step off the ice, looking adorable in her too-big jersey. There’s local media waiting to interview me. I haven’t prepared a damn thing, and Amber wanted it that way. They can wait, though, because Sunny’s more important. She’s my best everything.

As soon as I drop my gloves and helmet, she takes my face in her hands. Her nose scrunches. “You’re sweaty.”

“I’m gonna kiss you anyway.”

She laughs when I grab her around the waist and lay one on her. Cheesy music from the eighties blasts through the speakers about walking on sunshine. The flashing cameras don’t ruin the moment. Not for me, anyway.

“What is this?” she asks against my mouth.

“It’s our song now. I thought it was appropriate and way less depressing than You Are My Sunshine. Waters isn’t the only one who can pull off cheesy moves.”

Her smile is all the best sunrises put together. “I love you.”

“I love you back.”

There are no refunds and no exchanges with love. It comes with flaws and imperfections. It’s raw, unfiltered, and sometimes it isn’t easy. But I’ve found the best things in this life are the ones I’ve had to work hardest for. Especially Sunny.

THE END