Chapter 198: Choose Me

Lena’s POV

Detective Harper’s voice cut through the noise inside the arena. For one terrifying second, I thought the crowd had not heard her. Then security officers began moving in every direction. Several gates closed, and arena staff quietly redirected fans without causing panic. The game continued on the ice, and most people had no idea that anything unusual was happening.

Ryan looked toward Detective Harper. “What is it?”

She walked over quickly. “We received another alert.”

“What kind of alert?” Ryan asked.

She lowered her voice. “Someone attempted to enter the restricted medical corridor using stolen credentials.”

Ryan’s expression became serious. “Did they get through?”

"No," she replied. “They were stopped before they reached the treatment area.”

I let out a slow breath. “So everyone is safe?”

“For now.” Harper’s answer did not reassure me. She noticed. “I have increased the number of officers assigned to both of you.”

Ryan nodded. “Thank you.”

She looked at him carefully. “How is your shoulder?”

“It hurts,” Ryan replied.

“I expected that.” She said.

“The doctor wants new imaging tonight,” Ryan said.

Harper gave a small nod. “Good.” She looked at both of us. “I will speak with you after the final whistle.”

Then she disappeared into the crowd.

Ryan leaned back against the bench. “I am tired.”

I looked at him. “You have every right to be.”

He smiled faintly. “I do not mean physically.” His words caught my attention. “I know my shoulder will heal.” He stared out at the ice. “I am tired of fighting people who keep moving the finish line.”

I understood exactly what he meant. Every time we uncovered the truth, another obstacle appeared. Every time we believed the worst was over, another threat arrived. I reached for his hand, and he intertwined his fingers with mine without looking away from the game.

“You do not have to fight every battle,” I whispered.

He looked at me. “I know.”

“Do you?” I whispered.

He hesitated. “I am trying.”

I took a deep breath. There were words I had carried for weeks. I had kept these words inside for maybe months because I did not want to add another burden to his shoulders. Tonight, I could not stay silent.

“Ryan.”

He turned fully toward me. “What is it?”

“I need you to listen,” I whispered.

“I am listening.” He said.

I held his gaze. “I fell in love with the man who always stood up for other people.”

His eyes softened. “I know.”

“I am proud of that man." I tightened my grip on his hand. “But I am afraid of something.”

He frowned. “What are you afraid of?”

“I am afraid that one day you will keep sacrificing yourself until there is nothing left,” I whispered.

He did not answer immediately. “I do not know how to stop caring.”

“I am not asking you to stop caring." My voice trembled despite my best effort to stay calm. “I am asking you to remember that your life matters too.”

He looked down at our joined hands. “I thought I was doing that.”

“You are trying." I nodded. “But sometimes you still believe everyone else should come first.”

He slowly exhaled. “I have spent my whole career believing that.”

“I know,” I whispered.

“I do not know another way.” He said.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You can learn.”

He looked back at me. “How?”

I felt tears gathering, but I refused to look away. “By choosing yourself sometimes.”

He shook his head gently. “That feels selfish.”

"No,” I said, speaking more firmly than I had expected. “It is not selfish to come home alive.”

Silence settled between us. The crowd erupted as play continued, but I barely heard it. Everything that mattered was sitting beside me.

I placed my free hand against his cheek. “I do not want a hero whose story ends too soon.”

His eyes filled with emotion.

“I want the man who laughs when he burns breakfast,” I whispered.

A faint smile appeared. “I only burnt it once. It was twice.” He laughed quietly.

“I cannot believe you remember that,” I muttered.

“I remember everything.” He said.

My voice softened again. “I do not want a martyr, Ryan.”

The smile disappeared.

“I want mornings. I want ordinary Tuesdays. I want arguments over groceries. I want vacations that have nothing to do with hockey. I want birthdays. I want anniversaries. I want the future we keep talking about.” A tear slipped down my cheek. “So please…” I took a shaky breath. “When life asks you to choose between proving something to the world…” I rested my forehead gently against his. “…choose me.”

Ryan closed his eyes. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I never realised that every time I tried to save everyone else…” He opened his eyes and looked directly into mine. “…I was asking you to live with the fear of losing me.”

I nodded. “You were.”

He lifted my hand and held it against his heart. “I cannot promise that life will never ask me to make another difficult choice.”

“I know,” I replied.

“But I can promise this.” His voice became steady. “When the next choice comes…” He paused. “I will remember that someone is waiting for me to come home.”

Before I could answer, the arena erupted with the loudest roar of the night. The game-winning goal had been scored, and neither of us had seen it happen.

The sound shook the entire arena. Ryan and I turned toward the ice at the same time; players in our team’s jerseys poured over the boards. Gloves and sticks were scattered across the ice as they rushed toward the goal scorer, and the scoreboard flashed. 4–3. There were only seconds left.

I laughed through my tears. “They did it.”

Ryan stood carefully, forgetting his sore shoulder for just a moment. “They actually did it.”

The final horn sounded. Confetti burst from the ceiling, and the crowd rose to its feet. Every person in the arena seemed to be shouting at once.

Ryan looked at the celebration with quiet pride. “I wish I could be out there.”

I slipped my hand into his. “You already are.”

He smiled. “I know.”

Coach Hartman hurried over from the bench, and his face was flushed with excitement. “There you are.”

Ryan laughed. “I have been here the whole time.”

The coach pointed toward the ice. “The league wants the captain for the trophy presentation.”

Ryan looked down at his shoulder. “I cannot skate out there like this.”

Coach shook his head. “They do not care; they want the man who carried this team all season.”

Ryan looked uncertain. “The players deserve that moment.”

Coach smiled. “They asked for you.”

As if on cue, Ethan skated toward the boards. He pulled off one glove and pointed directly at Ryan. Then he held up the captain’s “C” on his jersey before motioning for Ryan to join them, and the rest of the team began tapping their sticks against the ice. The fans noticed, and soon the entire arena started chanting.

“Ryan.”

“Ryan.”

“Ryan.”

I looked at him. “You should go.”

He searched my face. “What if my shoulder cannot handle it?”

“Then they will help you,” I whispered.

“What if I slow everyone down?” He asked.

I smiled. “They have waited all season for you.”

Ryan laughed softly. “You always know the answer before I ask the question.”

“I know your heart,” I whispered.

The team doctor stepped beside us. “I will walk with you.”

Ryan looked surprised. “Really?”

The doctor nodded. “You are not playing anymore. You are simply accepting something you earned.”

Ryan took a careful breath. “All right.” He turned toward me. “Come with me.”

I blinked. “This is your moment.”

Ryan shook his head. “It became our moment a long time ago.”

Coach Hartman smiled. “I think he is right.”

A member of the league staff approached us.

"Ms Morales.”

“Yes?” I whispered.

“The commissioner has approved your presence during the presentation.” The man said.

I stared at him. “Are you serious?”

“The players requested it.” The member replied.

Ryan squeezed my hand. “They know what you did for me.”

Emotion tightened my throat. Together, we stepped through the gate and onto the ice. The cold air hit my face immediately, and the noise became even louder. Thousands of fans stood and applauded; many of them were wearing shirts that read Stand With Lena. Others held signs thanking Ryan for speaking out about player safety.

I looked around slowly, and I never imagined standing at centre ice during a championship celebration.

Ryan leaned toward me. “You belong here.”

“I am just a physiotherapist,” I whispered.

He smiled. “You are the reason I am standing.”

The championship trophy rested on its table under the bright lights. Its polished silver surface reflected the celebration around us.

The commissioner stepped forward with a microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen.”

The crowd quieted.

“It is my honour to present this year’s championship trophy.” He reached for the trophy.

Then he stopped, a league official rushed onto the ice and whispered something into his ear, and the commissioner’s smile disappeared. He looked toward Ryan, then toward Detective Harper, who was already moving quickly across the ice, and my heart sank.

The commissioner lowered the microphone. “There has been…” He paused, struggling to find the words. “…an unexpected development.” The entire arena fell silent once again.