Chapter 225: Once a rookie, always a rookie

The drive took nearly forty minutes, taking us far away from the hospital and downtown traffic toward a private estate tucked away along the coastline.

The SUV rolled through a set of heavy wrought-iron gates, pulling up to a stunning, secluded beachside lodge overlooking the grey water of the Sound.

"Alright, watch your step," Reid murmured softly, sliding out first and offering me a steady hand as I maneuvered myself and my crutches onto the gravel driveway.

The front doors of the lodge were thrown wide open. Before I could even ask another question, a deafening roar of voices exploded from inside the main hall.

"SURPRISE!"

Confetti rained down from the ceiling, dusting my hair and shoulders.

I froze in the doorway, my jaw dropping as I took in the sight.

The entire Seattle Serpents roster was crammed into the grand living room, alongside Coach Devin, the training staff, my entire family—including my parents, my brothers, and Marina—and even Reid’s father, Brad, no sign of Fidora though.

A giant banner hung across the timber beams, painted in teal, blue, and silver:

HAPPY RETIREMENT, CAPTAIN!STANLEY CUP CHAMPS FOREVER #14 & #7

"You guys..." I breathed, my voice instantly thick as tears pricked the corners of my eyes.

"Don’t start crying yet, Evans!" Gerald shouted from near the bar, holding a champagne glass high. "We’ve got forty-eight hours of food, drinks, and bad decisions planned for you two!"

Reid leaned casually against the door frame, crossing his arms and eyed the massive banner stretched across the timber beams with an exaggerated, raised eyebrow.

"I’m retiring too, you know," Reid drawled, his voice carrying easily over the chatter as he pointed a finger at the wall. "Where’s my banner? You put my number, but all I see is ’Captain’."

Miller, who was standing near the fireplace with a beer in hand, let out a loud snort. "Look closer, McCoy! Dont waste your functioning eyesight."

Reid narrowed his dark grey eyes, tilting his head to read the fine print stitched right beneath the big, bold word CAPTAIN.

Tucked right under the main title, in hilariously tiny, tiny lowercase letters that you had to squint to see, was the word: ^and ^his ^rookie.

I burst into a breathless, helpless laugh, my chest heaving as I clutched my forearm crutches for balance.

"How mean!" I wheezed, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye. "You guys are terrible!"

Reid looked at the tiny lettering, then back at the grinning team, a low, quiet chuckle vibrating deep in his chest despite his best efforts to look offended.

"Unbelievable," Reid muttered, though the fond, lopsided smirk playing on his lips completely gave him away. He slid his uninjured arm around my waist, pulling me a little closer against his side. "I win us the Stanley Cup in overtime, and I’m still just ’the rookie’."

"Once a rookie, always a rookie, McCoy!" Russo shouted from the kitchen island, raising his glass. "Now get the Cap over here so we can start the speeches!"

The music in the lodge lowered to a soft background hum, though laughter still echoed off the high timber ceilings as the Serpents gathered around the fireplace.

I was sitting comfortably in a plush, high-backed armchair near the center of the room, my heavy cast resting on a padded footstool, a glass of sparkling cider cradled in my lap.

One by one, the team took the floor.

Russo went first, rambling through an emotional, barely coherent toast about leadership that ended with him tearing up and hugging my footstool. Hilarious.

Gerald followed, cracking terrible jokes about my strict training drills before sincerely thanking me for teaching him how to survive in the league.

Miller went next, and then the others before Coach Devin.

He kept his words brief, his voice thick as he praised both of us for giving everything to the franchise and bringing the silver home.

Then, the room gradually fell quiet. The team stepped back, forming a wide semicircle around my chair as everyone turned their attention toward the side of the room.

It was Reid’s turn.

He stepped into the center of the floor, but he didn’t grab a glass or look at the crowd. He didn’t look at Coach Devin, or the team, or the silver glare of the Stanley Cup resting on the mantel. His grey eyes were locked entirely on me.

Slowly, deliberately, he walked over and sank down onto one knee right in front of my chair.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. My heart gave a violent, erratic thud against my ribs. "Reid... what are you doing?"

The others didn’t get this dramatic, I thought as I gulped.

From his pocket, Reid pulled out a small, velvet-lined box, clicking it open to reveal a simple, elegant band that caught the warm light of the room.

"I’m an idiot, Kain," Reid started, his deep voice carrying through the silent lodge, entirely devoid of his usual cocky edge. "I’m arrogant, stubborn, selfish, and a complete pain in the ass. I came into this league thinking I knew everything, throwing my weight around like I owned the world, trying to show off to you.. Just to get your attention."

A soft, tearful laugh spilled out of my throat, my hand instantly trembling where it held my glass.

"And yet," Reid continued, his dark eyes shining with a raw, terrifying honesty that made my chest ache, "you put up with me. You tolerated my worst sides better than anyone ever could. You challenged me, you protected me, and you showed me what it actually means to fight for something that matters."

He didn’t bring up the parts of making me bend to his will in bed, but we all know that isn’t necessary at a time like this. That was in the past, forgiven and forgotten.

He reached up, taking my free, trembling hand in his warm, calloused palm.

"I know I’m not perfect," Reid whispered, his voice cracking slightly. "But I promise to do better every single day. I promise to be the man you can rely on, the Alpha who stands in front of you when the world gets ugly. I love you, Kain. You’re my entire world and I can’t see myself spending the rest of my life without you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, as your husband, partner, and... Please..." The plea came out soft, fragile, almost desperate. "Will you marry me?"