My team swarms, congratulating me on the goal and celebrating the lead that just closed out the game, 4–2. The Revolution wins. The stands are going wild as everyone tosses hats onto the ice. I look up into the stands, searching for the box Mac is watching in, and there she fucking is—my girl, in my jersey, with my family, screaming her lungs out. Mine. Fuck the rest of the world. Fuck what they think or expect. This is it. This is what I want. Her. This team. This town. This family. But it all starts and stops with her, and it’s about time she hears it.
