Epilogue | Michael
The music pouring into the arena is soft and sensual.
“What is she doing?” I ask Delaney.
The little girl shrugs. “I wanna dance with mommy.”
“You do?”
She nods excitedly, “Yeah. I wanna do like mommy does.”
The little girl with the curly red hair glides in her socks across the floor of the office.
“Wow, Del. You’re really good at that.” She curtsies and waves just like her mom does at the end of a set.
“You wanna go see her finish?”
She cheeses and bounces up and down, “Yeah, let’s soo-pise her.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Let’s soo-pise her. Come on.”
We’re about to head out into the arena when a big body blocks the exit.
He clears his throat and looks down at the little girl.
“So…” Zane says. “I heard from your cousins that you want to be a figure skater. Is that right?”
Delaney giggles as she looks up at her uncle and nods. Her curls bouncing as she does.
“Well, lucky for you. I think I found the perfect skates.” He pulls out a box and bends down to give them to my daughter.
“Happy birthday, Del.”
She squeals and plops onto her butt to open the box.
I look inside. “Don’t you think those are a bit fancy for a three year old, Coach?”
“Shut up, Fergie. She’s my niece. I get to spoil her however I see fit.”
“Daddy, can you please put them on. Pease daddy!”
The tiny pink skates lined with white fur look exactly like something her mom would wear.
“Oh and that’s not it.”
“You got her more?” I ask. “Zane you already got her a pony, a remote start car, and a full-size robot.”
“That robot will pay for itself, twice over,” he shuts me down.
“Ok, but seriously, no more gifts.”
“Fine,” he says, stalking over to the closet and reaching in to produce a beautiful pink sequined ensemble. “Last one,” he tells Delaney. “For now.”
“Zane!’
He laughs as I tie up her skates and she asks me to slip on the pink dress over her head.
“Ready?”
The toddler gives me a thumbs up.
“Good, now let’s go soo-pise mommy.”
“I’m coming too,” Zane says.
We each take one of Delaney’s hands and she tip toes over to the opening of the ice.
There she is, gliding like an angel on blades—my gorgeous wife. Her hair is straightened and sleeked back into a ponytail. And when she does a tuck spin, the red blurs into a spinning vortex until she slows and stops along with the music.
She hasn’t noticed us yet. But the song ends and she straightens when she sees us. She skates over to the edge, where Delaney is trying to get on the ice.
“You did not,” Libby laughs.
“You can thank your brother,” I motion to him.
“Stop it, Z. She has enough things.”
“So your husband has already made that clear.”
“Good. Where’s Kes?”
“Working late. She’ll bring the kids by later.”
“Mommy can I do spinning with you?” Our daughter says looking up at her mom with admiration.
“Of course, my sweet girl. Come on.”
“What did your coach say?” I ask her as she takes Del’s hand and guides her across the ice.
“We should get the news any day now.”
“The news?” Zane asks, turning to me.
“The news,” I confirm.
The doors to the arena entrance swing open and Kesley and three mini-hers pop in.
“Oh my god, oh my god. You won’t believe the news we just got,” she says, waving a piece of paper.
“What?” We all say.
“Look whose name just showed up on the list of next year’s Winter Olympics finalists in the figure skating division!” She squeals out.
Libby stops skating. And all of us go silent.
“Are you kidding me?” I scream out, grabbing the paper she’s holding up. “Liberty Ferguson. Baby, that’s you! You’re on the list.”
“I’m on the list,” she whispers to herself. Then she looks down at Delaney. “Mommy’s on the list!”
Kesley and Zane’s kids are prepared with poppers that take us all by soo—surprise.
I run to my girls on the ice, only slightly losing my balance as Libby jumps into my arms.
“Oh my god, Michael. I’m going to the olympics.”
“You’re going to the Olympics!”
“I… I couldn’t have done this without you,” she says holding my face in her hands.
“I’m so proud of you.”
She kisses me and Delaney makes a fake puking and is quickly joined by her cousins.
“Oh stop it,” Libby says to them, sticking her tongue out.
“We need to celebrate,” I say.
“Zane, call the boys.”
Already on it, he says holding up the phone.
“Where should we go?” I ask her.
“Mmm… I’m kind of in the mood for rolls.”
I smile and kiss my girl.
“Rolls are always a good choice, butterfly.”
The love doesn’t end here…
If you love these characters—go read Ryker and Izzy’s story in Pucked Together. It’s a brother’s best friend, grumpy goalie meets sassy team photographer romance with all the laughs and love from our Heatwave boys.
Read Pucked Together on Amazon!
Here’s a sneak peek:
My brother’s best friend will do anything to win.
Even if it means pretending to date me–his sworn enemy.
But claiming my v-card wasn’t part of the plan.
He’s Goalie-zilla of the Houston Heatwave and the man I can’t stand.
Number 33. Ryker-freakin-Balinger.
The only things we have in common are the temporary roof we share.
And the arena where we both work.
Dealing with this muscular, tatted-up grump is the last thing I need.
But he needs good press.
And I want revenge on the team’s newest arrival.
So this relationship is all for show.
Or so I thought.
On the ice, he’s defending the goalposts.
At home, he’s coaching me on more than just trick plays.
But thisgame plandoesn’t just have our jobs on the line anymore.
Because the smokeshow in the next room is now my baby daddy…
Pucked Together is a spicy forced proximity, fake dating, pro hockey romance. It’s the first book in the Houston Heatwave series and can be enjoyed as a standalone. There’s heated banter, unexpected twists, and a happily ever after for our enemies turned lovers.
Read Pucked Together on Amazon!
Prologue
I want to wipe that stupid look right off his stupid face.
”Izzy, it”s not what it looks like.” His pants are still unbuckled as he chases me down the hall of my shared LA apartment.
I turn to him, shoving a finger into his face.
”Really, Trevor? That”s rich. It doesn”t take a rocket scientist to know what was just going on in my bedroom.” I throw the nearest thing I can find at him to stop him from following me.
A pillow. I find my fiancé cheating on me, and I throw a fucking pillow?
”Ow, Iz. Calm down.”
I can actually feel the fire burning from the pit of my stomach and climbing all the way up until smoke billows out my ears.
I turn to give him the full heat of my glare.
”Shit, that”s not what I...”
”Calm down,” I scream. “You want me to calm down?!”
Deep breaths. Breathe, Izzy. Breathe. This is it. I remind myself. This is my way out. We weren”t good together. Now, keep the air in my lungs.
I hear the footsteps of my roommate running across the hall to her room, trying to quietly shut the door.
That little—ugh!
Breathe. Breathe. Remember to breathe.
”Izzy, Baby. You need your inhaler,” Trevor”s voice is soft and worried.
But it”s too late. The fire has worked its way into my lungs. And I can”t breathe.
I grasp my chest, clawing at it. Gasping, the words barely make it out of me. ”I”m not...your fucking...baby!” The air comes in and out in short, uncontrollable bursts, and I drop to my knees on the floor.
”Fuck! Trish, where”s her inhaler?!”
He crouches to lay me down on the ground, putting the pillow I threw at him under my head.
”Izzy, close your eyes and breathe like this.” He tries to coach me and I slap him away.
”I can”t find it, Trevor!” Trish”s voice calls from the other room in a panic.
”Well, call 9-1-1. We need a fucking ambulance.”
I need to tell him to leave. I need to tell him he and his whore can go straight to—
”9-1-1, what is your emergency?”
”It”s my girlfriend. She has severe asthma, and she can”t breathe. I can”t find her rescue inhaler. Please, send help now.”
I gasp—mainly from the audacity that he just called me his girlfriend when he knows we”re supposed to be getting married.
I reach over my body and grab my other hand. It feels like a block of cement. My fingers are cramping, and the room around me is spinning. But I”m able to get it loose.
I try to speak, and the words feel like fuzz on my lips.
”The address is 804 Landfair Av...”
His voice is fading. With the last of my energy, I take the ring into my hand and throw it at his face before I collapse.