Beautiful Collide (Saints Of Redville #3)

EPILOGUE - HUDSON

I should’ve known Mason had something up his sleeve. He’d been talking about this for weeks.

A never endless tease of dragging me to some “epic” bachelor party.

Which in my opinion isn’t needed because I’m already married. His response . . . typical Mason: “You got hitched in Vegas without so much as a drunken karaoke sendoff. You owe me this.” The smug ass bastard.

Best part?

None of this was for me. Typical Mason. He just needed an excuse to throw a party.

Honestly, I’m not even mad.

It’s something I’d never would have agreed to, but now that I’m here, I can’t help but smile.

We’re in a quirky, oversized bowling alley-slash-arcade that also serves gourmet tacos.

Pretty much perfection.

Who knew such a place existed? Neon lights bounce off the walls, retro arcade machines hum in the background, and every now and then, a lane erupts in cheers as someone nails a strike.

“Man, look at you,” Mason grins as he hands me a drink. “A husband. A hockey god. And most importantly a guy who has finally learned how to show up on time.”

“Don’t push it.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I’m sure showing up on time will be short lived,” he says.

I look around the room and see that Dane and Aiden are already here.

Laughing and trash talking.

Got to love them.

“You suck,” Aiden calls after Dane launches the ball.

“Wow, sore loser much?” Dane fires back.

I shake my head, grinning, just as Mason sidles up beside me. “So . . . how’s Molly’s night going?”

“She’s probably bossing everyone around,” I reply, half-joking.

“Your girl is scary when she wants to be,” Mason says, but there’s no hiding the admiration in his tone. “Perfect match for you. Just as I suspected.” He winks.

The man has never stopped reminding me that he knew we would end up together. As I’m about to say something witty back, the doors swing open, and my head snaps around at the sound of familiar laughter.

What’s she doing here?

There, in the is Molly. And behind her? Josie, Cassidy, and half a dozen other women.

From beside me I can hear Mason let out a groan. “Fuck no. This was supposed to be sacred. No women.”

“Guess the universe didn’t get your memo,” I say, trying and failing to hide my smirk.

Molly catches my eye, tilting her head with that familiar, teasing smile. She’s in a pair of jeans and a Redville Saints hoodie, looking far too good and far too smug.

I open my mouth to speak, but my words are lounged in my chest at how gorgeous she is.

“Great. Now he’s useless,” Mason groans again as I cross the space and pull her into my embrace.

The guys erupt in laughter, and Mason throws his hands up. “I can’t with you two. You’re the most annoyingly in-love people on the planet.”

After a second, Molly pulls away, but I never take my gaze off her.

“What?” she asks.

“Nothing,” I reply.

Her expression softens slightly, just enough to let me know she sees what I’m thinking without me saying a word.

That this is what happiness feels like.

“You two make me sick,” Mason complains, walking over to the table before stuffing nachos into his mouth. “Let’s play already.”

The night turns into the kind of perfect mess I never saw coming. Dane bowls like his life depends on it. Aiden loses half his wallet to bets Mason goads him into. Molly kicks everyone’s ass in pinball because of course she does.

At some point, Mason drags me aside, shaking his head. “You’re disgustingly happy, you know that?”

“I know,” I say easily, because it’s true.

“Can’t even make fun of you for it.”

“Doesn’t mean you won’t try.”

“Fair point.”

But as I look around—at my friends, my family, and Molly arguing with Dane about whether her “lucky ball” broke the lane—I realize Mason’s right.

I’m disgustingly happy.

I spent so many years thinking life had to look one way, had to be just me and hockey and the grind. And then Molly barreled into my world, and nothing’s been the same since.

It’s better.

It’s home.

When I glance back, she’s watching me again, head tilted, that soft smile pulling at her lips.

“What?” I call over the noise.

“Nothing,” she replies, echoing my words from earlier.

But I know what she’s saying.

It’s everything.

And it’s ours.