Epilogue
AJ he’s looking at her the same way half the guys in this room are—like he wants to peel that dark green dress off her.
“Dude,” I say, as I turn back toward him. “Wipe that look off your face. If Coach catches you looking at his daughter that way...”
His head snaps toward me. “I wasn’t looking at her any way.”
“Uh-huh.” I take a sip of my drink, feeling like some puzzle pieces are clicking into place. Coach Wilcott leaving the locker room early before Game 7, AJ telling me post-game that his daughter was sick, Hartmann playing like shit. He knew, and that’s why he was distracted. “You have feelings for this girl?”
“What? No. She’s my best friend.”
“You keep saying that, but Renaud’s my best friend and I sure as shit don’t look at him the way you’re looking at her. Was she the reason you were so distracted in Game 7? The fact that she was sick?”
His guilty look is all the answer I need. “How’d you know she was sick?”
“How do you think?”
“I keep forgetting you’re with AJ. That’s still so . . . weird. How you hated her so much, until . . .”
“Until I didn’t.” I still haven’t told my teammates what changed, because there’s no way to talk about our history that doesn’t involve telling them about how AJ’s ex treated her, and that’s not a path I’m going down. I’ll figure it out, eventually. Right now, things still feel new and somewhat fragile, even though she basically lives with me. Even Tabitha has moved over to my condo, and I don’t know what AJ was talking about—that’s the most friendly, loving cat I’ve ever seen. With Abby and me, at least.
“You’re staring at her again,” I warn Hartmann as I follow his gaze to where AJ now stands talking to the Wilcotts. She’s in a cream suit, the slim cut of her blazer barely showing the pearl-lined cream corset beneath. With her long wavy brown hair falling over her shoulders, she looks sexy and powerful. “Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“I’d like to meet your best friend, Lover Boy.”
“Dude,” Hartmann says, “do not call me that in front of her or I’ll never live it down.”
“She doesn’t know your reputation?” I ask as we make our way toward the entrance of the huge auditorium.
“She does,” he says, his words practically a groan. “But just because women flock to me doesn’t mean I’m doing anything to earn that reputation.”
I think back to earlier this spring, when it first came out that Colt and Jules were engaged, and he told me that just because I’d seen him talking to a lot of women didn’t mean he was actually sleeping with them. I wonder if the same applies to Hartmann? “Huh.”
As we step up to the Wilcotts, I slide my arm around AJ’s waist and press a kiss to the crown of her head. Even with those three-inch nude heels she’s wearing, I could still rest my chin on the top of her head.
“Still not quite used to this,” Coach says with an awkward laugh.
“You’ll get there,” AJ and I say at the same time, and I chuckle as I pull her tighter against my side.
All I want to do, all the time, is to be close to her. Sometimes I worry that I’m being too clingy, always needing to have some part of my body connected to hers. When I told her I was afraid she was going to get sick of my constant need to touch her, she just laughed and said, “Never.”
Hartmann introduces us to Eva, and as she extends her hand to shake ours, AJ tells her how much she loves her nail polish. I wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t said something, but it’s a matte forest green that matches her dress. Her dark hair is slicked back into a high, fluffy ponytail that bounces as she talks, and her dark eyes with long eyelashes stand out against her pale skin. Standing next to golden boy Luke, with his light brown hair and blue eyes, they strike me as total opposites. While he’s outgoing and talkative, she’s measured and reserved. She’s the dark to his light.
“I’m so sorry to hear you were sick a few weeks ago,” AJ tells her as her parents move on to chat with someone else. “You feeling better now?”
“Yeah, I was just exhausted and dehydrated,” Eva says. “The end of competition season really did me in.” Her sideways glance at Hartmann has me wondering if there’s a bit more to the story than that.
“She’s doing fine now,” Hartmann says as he brings his hand to her lower back. “But?—”
The announcement asking everyone to please take their seats interrupts us.
“Where are you guys sitting?” AJ asks them.
“Our parents have a box over there,” Eva says, nodding her head toward the side of the room, where theater-style box seats line the circular perimeter, facing the stage.
“Okay, we’re on the floor,” AJ says, “we’ll see you later then.” Taking my hand, she leads me toward the front of the auditorium.
“That was weird,” I say.
“What was?”
“You don’t think there’s something going on with those two?”
“Pretty sure they’re like siblings,” she says. “Frank talks about her like she’s his daughter. There’s a picture of her and Luke in his office from when they were toddlers.”
“Okay.” Now isn’t the time to dig into how he absolutely was not looking at her like she was his sister, much less his best friend. When I think about it, though, she was cool and detached. Nothing she did made me think she had feelings for him. But I am absolutely giving him shit about it later, because nothing will ruin their friendship faster than him pining after her.
We take our seats next to Colt and Jules. Colt is receiving the Goaltender of the Year award tonight, and I don’t envy him having to make his way up the stairs to the stage on those crutches. Luckily, he doesn’t need surgery, but he’s going to be on crutches for another week and in that knee brace for a couple more weeks after that. He’ll be out of the brace just in time for Jameson’s wedding later this summer.
All things considered, he’s damn lucky. In his mid-thirties, a knee injury could have ended his career, and I know he really wants to finish out the last year of his contract next season. After that, I wouldn’t be surprised if he retires. He’s already one of the longest-playing guys in the league.
As the lights dim and the program begins, I think about how I normally hate shit like this. Unlike other awards shows, everyone already knows who’s won each award. There are no surprises; it’s simply an opportunity to celebrate people’s accomplishments.
Nine years ago, when I won the Rookie of the Year award, I hated every minute of the experience—getting dressed up, everyone congratulating me, having to go up on stage to accept the award, and having to give a speech. The only thing that made it tolerable was sharing that evening with Sloane and Grandma.
For a guy who spends a couple of days a week playing hockey in front of twenty-thousand fans, I really don’t like being in the spotlight. But what I do really love is seeing AJ get the recognition she deserves. Which is why I love being here with her. And why, when her name is announced as the GM of the Year, I stand with her in celebration and pull her into a huge hug, whispering, “Good job, Sunshine,” into her ear and watching the goosebumps rise across her neck.
I clap and cheer for her as she takes the stage, the red soles of the sexy heels I bought her catching my eye with each step. And when she stands at the podium, facing a sea of hockey’s biggest supporters and holding her award, her eyes land on me before she looks out at the audience.
“For someone who’s known they won this award for a few weeks now,” she says, “I still find myself struggling to find the words to explain how much it means to me. It’s impossible to stand here as the first female GM of the Year without saying that, while I might be the first, I won’t be the last.”
The thunderous applause is a shock in the best way possible. She’d been worried how people would respond when she brought up her gender, and the role of women in hockey, but I’d encouraged her to mention it, no matter the response.
“The road to this stage wasn’t easy, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the women who helped me get here—whose friendship, assistance, and advice allowed me to grow and flourish both in this role, and as a person. This year, especially, I’ve come to realize the importance of friendships between women who want to see each other succeed in all aspects of life. The world is stronger when women work together instead of against one another, and I’m working hard to surround myself with these types of women, in my personal life and at work as well.
“I also owe a particular debt of gratitude to three men in my life. First, Joey Connelly, the other nominee for this year’s award, who was the most amazing mentor I could have hoped for. He took a chance on me when I was coaching D1 women’s hockey, bringing me on as a scout and then promoting me to being the first female assistant GM in the league. And then, he encouraged me to spread my wings, to look for a GM position when he could have easily kept me exactly where I was, working for him.
“Second, Frank Hartmann, the owner of the Boston Rebels, who gave me the opportunity to lead this organization. He’ll tell you I deserved the job, but when I started at the Rebels, there wasn’t a single woman in upper management, and I know he took a leap of faith bringing me on, knowing I’d shake things up, and trusting me to do so. I wouldn’t be standing here without him in my corner for the past six years.
“And finally, Ronan McCabe, who has steadfastly stood by me through some of the most trying times in my life.” Her eyes are back on me, and I wonder what she sees reflected back on my face. I didn’t know she was going to say anything about me tonight. I didn’t expect it, and I’m not sure I deserve the adoring way she’s looking at me right now. “I might still be standing on this stage even if it weren’t for you, but I wouldn’t be the person I am today. And for the first time in my life, I really like that person—the one who understands that vulnerability is a strength, not a weakness. I’ll forever be grateful that we took a chance on each other, when it would have been easier to walk away. This award means so much more to me because you stood next to me when I won it.”
I’m not sure why my eyes are all wet like this, but as I shake my head at her, I can’t stop smiling. The woman I love just accepted the most important award in her field, and I couldn’t be happier for her, or for us.
If anyone had told me before this season started that it would end this way—me navigating fatherhood, AJ and me living together, a new agent and a contract for three more years with the Rebels making more than I’ve ever made, and being here with AJ as she accepts the GM of the Year award—I’d have been certain they were crazy.
And maybe that’s what this life is...crazy, but beautiful. Maybe the beauty is in the unpredictability—in accepting changes you weren’t ready for, and being open to possibilities you couldn’t imagine. Because I never could have envisioned being this happy.
AJ
“ G od, you were so fucking amazing tonight.” Ronan’s breath is hot against my ear, his head dipped to whisper as I stand, leaning against the wall of the hotel elevator with my eyes closed. I’m exhausted in the best possible way, after what is quite possibly the most amazing night of my life.
Getting to stand on that stage tonight, to thank the people—especially Ronan—who helped me get where I am, and knowing that I’m paving the way for other women to do the same...it was everything.
“I hope you know I’m going to marry you someday,” I mumble, not even able to open my eyes because I’m so tired.
“I was already planning on it, remember?” His low chuckle fills the space, and his chest shakes against my arm as he reminds me about how he said he was going to ask Frank for my hand when the time came.
“Oh, related to that,” I say, cracking my eyes open. “Guess who texted me about an hour ago?”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Who?”
“My father.”
To his credit, Ronan doesn’t say any of the things he’s probably thinking. Instead, he traces my jaw with his thumb and says, “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. He congratulated me on the award and said he and my mom would like to see me again sometime soon.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“Worried.”
“Why?”
“Because either he’s extending an olive branch, or it’s a trap. And I’m not sure I want to explore either option.”
“The beauty of being an adult is that you don’t have to if you don’t want to. But if you change your mind, I’m happy to be there with you...if that’s what you want.”
“I don’t know what I want, and I’m too tired to think about it right now.”
“There’s no rush, Sunshine. You don’t owe them anything.”
The doors open on our floor and he sweeps me into his arms, carrying me down the hallway. I don’t even protest, because while I’m in love with these gorgeous nude patent leather heels, my feet are killing me, and I’d rather be in his arms anyway.
“Maybe going out for drinks after the awards ceremony wasn’t the best idea,” he says, brushing his lips against my forehead before he sets me down at our door so he can find the keycard in his pocket.
“I’m not drunk, I’m just tired.”
“I know. But I’ve been watching you all night in those sexy heels and that pearl corset you’re wearing, and all I can picture is seeing you in nothing but those tonight.”
I lean against the door frame as he taps the keycard on the lock. “That can probably be arranged.”
“Not if you’re too tired,” he says, his tone making it clear that he’s looking out for me, not that he’s disappointed.
“I can rally,” I tell him as I unbutton the single button on my blazer, then step through the door that he’s holding open for me. I let the jacket slide off my shoulders and down my arms, dropping it in the hallway as I walk into our hotel room. It’s not a full suite, but it’s got an entire sitting area, with a couch and chairs next to the wall of windows overlooking the lights of Las Vegas.
“Alessandra, really.” Coming up behind me, he places a hand on each bare shoulder to stop my progress mid-way across the room. “You’ve had a big night. Let’s just go to sleep.”
I look over my shoulder at him, taking in his close-cropped beard and that dark hair that’s perpetually a little messy, and noticing the way his bright green eyes are focused on my lips. The dull ache low in my abdomen is growing hotter, spreading like a fire that wants to consume me. Flames lick through my body until I’m just a touch less tired and a lot more turned on.
It’s amazing to me that just looking at this man can have this effect. Or is it the way his thumbs are running back and forth along the tense line of my shoulders, trying to soothe me? Or the way I can feel the heat rolling off his body and warming my mostly bare back?
My fingers meet at the waistband of my pants, and I’m thankful that the cast came off a few days ago as I quickly undo the single button and drag the zipper down before pushing them past my hips. With the wide legs of these suit pants, they pool at my feet, and I carefully step out of them, wearing nothing but my corset, nude thong, and the heels he loved so much he insisted on buying them for me.
I walk toward the window, sweeping my hair over my shoulder to give him the full view of my body. “You can go to sleep if you want, but I’m going to admire this view.”
He huffs out a laugh as I approach the window, leaning one shoulder against the metal frame that runs from the floor to the ceiling, supporting the huge panels of glass. “Yeah, this view is really something.”
I hear him undo his belt, then the drag of his zipper and the swishing of his clothing as he strips it off. And in the next few seconds, he’s behind me, his hard, hot, muscular body cradling mine as one of his palms slides across my belly, pulling me against him.
“I hope these windows are mirrored on the outside,” he says.
“Why?” I ask coyly, turning toward him as I drop to my knees, grasping his cock in my hand and bringing it to my mouth. “Afraid someone’s going to see us like this?”
He groans as I swipe my tongue over the sensitive skin on the fat head of him while my fingers grip his shaft. “This view...you on your knees for me...” He loses his words when I take him to the back of my throat, sucking him between my tongue and the roof of my mouth as I swirl along him repeatedly. “These moments...” he grits out, “...are ours .”
I slip my thong to the side and run my fingers through the slickness between my legs, using it as lubrication as I bring them to my clit, trying to soothe the throbbing ache there. He hits the back of my throat again, and it makes my eyes water as I look up at him.
“You are a fucking vision,” he says, bringing his hand down to the base of my skull. “Look at you fingering yourself while I fuck your mouth. You want me inside you, Alessandra?”
“Umm hum,” I murmur, and his entire body is wracked with a shiver from the vibration.
“Take your top off,” he says. “I want to see you play with your tits, and then I’ll fuck you like you want.”
My inner walls clench in need, and I moan as he slides himself into my mouth at a faster pace.
“You like that, huh? You like thinking about your pussy being so full of me you can barely breathe?”
With my eyes on his, I nod as I bring my hands behind my back and undo the clasps along the seam, then toss it to the side. He doesn’t even have to ask again; my hands cup the sides of my breasts, pushing them together as I pinch my nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. The sensation has me moaning again, and that’s when he pulls out of my mouth, steps back, and sits on the couch facing the window.
“Lose the underwear, then get up here.”
I never thought I’d like being bossed around, but as it turns out, I like it a whole lot in the bedroom. I’m eager to please him because he always leaves me satisfied.
I stand and, hooking my thumbs into the straps of my thong, I bend at the waist as I drag it down my legs, leaving it on the floor at my feet. Then I plant one knee on either side of his waist, and look down at the man of my dreams, lowering myself until he’s filled me, until we’re joined and moving together as one, until his hands and his mouth are everywhere and nothing exists except our pleasure and the love we share. I ride him until my legs are about to give out, and then he brings his thumb between us, slowly pressing into my clit with every rock of my body, bringing his lips to my nipple and teasing me, until he’s tipping me over the edge.
When I come, it’s not with his name on my lips, it’s with the words “I love you so much.”
And when he finds his release, he presses his forehead to mine, whispering, “I love you more.”
I think I fall asleep before he even cleans me up and carries me to bed, because the next morning, that’s where I wake up to the angry buzzing of my phone. I panic, worried that it might be Nicholas or Nicole telling us that something is wrong with Abby.
But when I pick my phone up from the nightstand, I see that I’ve missed several texts in a group chat with Charlie and Frank. I tap on the most recent message.
Filling my screen is a photo of a man’s left hand, a gold wedding band circling his ring finger. The woman’s hand, laying over the top, has one of the biggest diamond rings I’ve ever seen. I’m so focused on the size of that ring that I almost don’t notice the matte green nail polish.
And then, another message pops up.
Frank
We have a BIG problem.
THE END