Epilogue
SCARLETT
YEARS LATER.
I’m in the family section of the arena, surrounded by other players’ wives and girlfriends. They’re all wearing jerseys with their partners’ names on the back, just like me.
Gabriel’s first professional game is about to start, and I’m here to capture this moment for us.
I adjust my camera and check the settings. I’ve been hired by the team to shoot some behind-the-scenes content for their social media, but tonight is personal.
The players skate out onto the ice, and the crowd cheers. I spot Gabriel immediately. He carries himself with the kind of confidence that comes from knowing he belongs here.
I think back to the first time I saw him when I was convinced he was responsible for my sister’s death, and when all I wanted was revenge.
I was so wrong.
My sister wasn’t struggling because of Gabriel. She was struggling because the mafia had gotten to her too. They’d been using her and forcing her to do things, and when she tried to get out, they made sure she couldn’t.
I didn’t see it at first because I was too busy blaming Gabriel instead of looking at who was really responsible, but I managed to track down some people who knew her and knew exactly what she was struggling with.
And they only agreed to talk to me when they were finally free of the mafia’s clutches.
Gabriel never bullied Carla. He barely knew her. But I needed someone to blame, so I made him the villain in my story.
Then I got close to him and realized he was different.
Now we’re safe, free, and together.
Niccolò kept his word. Once Gabriel got drafted, he sent us a message with congratulations and a bonus that was enough to set us up in a new city and help Gabriel’s parents when they got out of prison.
Gabriel’s mom and dad are out now and living in a small town an hour away. Gabriel visits them every few weeks. They’re starting over, just like we are.
The puck drops, and the game begins.
Gabriel moves across the ice with speed and precision. He steals the puck from an opposing player and passes it to his winger. The crowd cheers louder.
I snap a photo, and then keep taking more and more.
Halfway through the first period, Gabriel gets the puck. He skates toward the goal, weaving through defenders like they’re not even there. He winds up and shoots.
The puck flies into the net.
Goal!
People jump to their feet and scream. I’m up too, my camera forgotten as I yell Gabriel’s name.
His teammates swarm him, slapping his helmet and hugging him while he grins.
The game continues. Gabriel gets another assist in the second period, and his team is winning. By the time the final buzzer sounds, the score is four to two.
Gabriel’s team won, and he played like a star.
After the game, I head down to the tunnel where family members are allowed to wait. It takes a while for the players to come out. They’re doing interviews and cool-down exercises and all the other things professional athletes have to do.
But eventually, Gabriel appears. When he sees me, his face lights up.
“Hey,” he says.
I cross the distance between us and kiss him. I don’t care that there are people around or that cameras might be watching. When we finally pull apart, I’m breathless.
“You were amazing,” I say.
“You think?”
“Yep. You scored in your first game. Do you know how incredible that is?”
He laughs. “Yeah. I guess it is pretty incredible.”
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s get out of here.”
We head to a restaurant a few blocks away from the arena. It’s nothing fancy, just a small place with good food.
“I’m so proud of you,” I say.
“I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Yes, you could have.”
“No. I couldn’t. You saved me. You believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. You stayed when anyone else would’ve run. You’re the reason I’m here.”
“Gabriel—”
“I’m serious. You changed my life. And I don’t just mean the mafia stuff. I mean everything. You made me want to be better. You made me want to fight for something real.”
My throat tightens, and I reach across the table to take his hand. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
As we get our food, we keep smiling at each other.
“Do you ever think about your sister?” Gabriel asks quietly.
I do. All the time. But it’s different now. The anger and the need for revenge are gone. All that’s left is sadness and acceptance. My grief could’ve destroyed me, but it didn’t, and all thanks to Gabriel.
“Yeah,” I say. “I think about her a lot. I wish I could’ve helped her, and I wish I’d seen how much she was struggling. But I can’t change the past. All I can do is move forward.”
“I think about Lucas too,” Gabriel says. “And about what he would’ve thought of all this. My first pro game. You. Everything.”
“What do you think he would say?”
Gabriel gives me a small smile. “He would’ve made fun of me for being sappy. But I think he’d be happy for me. For us.”
“Yeah. I think he would be.”
Sappy or not, I’m just glad Gabriel’s with me and that I found him. Because I don’t know what I would’ve done without him.