Epilogue
You're getting nicknamed
Logan
The booth’s full with the crew, the table’s loaded, and Gary’s already threatened to kick us out twice. So it’s a normal night at The Rink Rat.
Except Lulu’s late, and my leg’s bouncing hard enough to shake the table.
Jake notices first. “You gonna wear a trench in the floor, Miller, or are you just trying to summon her with your knees?”
I check my phone again. “She said she was leaving ages ago.”
Before he can respond, Gary appears at the booth table, holding two large baskets of fries.
“Tell your girl to stop sending me videos of that damn dancing otter,” he says, tossing the fries into the middle of the table. “I don’t know what the hell ‘main character energy’ is, and I don’t want to.”
Charlie leans over Jake to grab a fry. “She sent it to me too, and said it reminded her of Logan and Dusty.”
Jake wipes his hands on a napkin. “No offense, but that otter’s way more coordinated.”
“Can we not compare me to an aquatic rodent tonight?” I mutter, checking my phone again.
Zoe arches a brow. “Still nothing from Lulu?”
I shake my head, jaw tight.
“She said Betty was making her try on her fur coats a while ago,” Zoe continues. “She texted me a photo of her in this amazing floor length one. Like, full mob wife energy.”
A groan escapes me, and I drag a hand down my face. “That woman’s a menace.”
“Relax,” Chase says, kicking my shin under the table. “Your girl’s got flair. You should be thrilled she’s letting the menace dress her.”
“She’s not dressing her,” I mutter. “She’s activating her.”
“Dude,” Eli says, “your leg is bouncing like a jackhammer. Why do you look like you're about to propose again?”
“I’m not,” I bite out. “I did that already.”
Eli doesn’t even look up. “Just keep your pants on this time.”
Charlie immediately splutters into her drink and Zoe coughs into her elbow. Jake groans, clearly wishing he hadn’t been told about the rock sex in the first place.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.
Chase leans back with a grin. “Man’s whipped.”
“I’m engaged,” I correct.
Charlie nods. “But to be fair, you were twitchy before the ring.”
“And you’re worse now,” Zoe adds. “Which is honestly kinda sweet.”
I take a long drink of beer so I don’t say something embarrassing. Like the fact that she’s been gone for less than an hour and it already feels like the night’s missing a piece.
Lulu does that—walks in and changes the temperature of a room without even trying. I didn’t think I’d be the guy who needed that kind of thing, but here I am. Craving her.
“You’ve gone soft,” Chase says, shaking his head with mock horror. “Might have to revoke your Storm jersey.”
“Pretty sure scoring two goals last game bought me a few credits.”
“That’s true,” Jake says, pointing a fry at me. “You’ve scored in nearly every game since the engagement. Are we all in agreement this man is powered by sex and pool inflatables?”
Zoe lifts her glass as Eli groans. “Cheers to that.”
I flip them all off and take a long sip of beer.
Tamara laughs into her drink. “The more he denies it, the deeper he’s gone.”
Can’t argue with that. I’m scoring better than I ever have, finally told my old man to fuck off after years of trying to earn a single compliment, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m waiting to be replaced.
I’ve got the girl. The dog. The ring. A team that feels like family. The best sex of my life on a daily basis, and a therapist who reminds me I’m not actually responsible for how my dad treats me.
So yeah, I’m allowed to miss Lulu when she’s late. I’m allowed to twitch.
Eli’s quiet at the end of the table, eyes sharp. Watching like he always does.
We’ve made our peace, mostly. But I can still feel the static, the part of him that’s still not sure he trusts me with her heart. I can’t blame him for being protective, but he doesn’t know what I’d do to keep her heart safe. Maybe he’ll never fully understand, and that’s fine.
So long as she does.
“How long’s it been now?” Chase asks.
I check my phone. “Forty-two minutes.”
Jake whistles. “Reid’s knee rehab sessions are shorter.”
“Speaking of,” Zoe says, “he texted the group chat earlier. Complained about the team physio openly berating him. And that doctor. What’d he call her again—Doctor Doom?”
“Yeah.” I take a sip. “Says she’s ruining his life.”
Charlie grins. “Which probably means he’s in love with her.”
“Man’s too grumpy for that,” Chase says.
I’m only half listening as I glance at the door again. Still nothing.
“She probably stopped for fuel,” Tamara says lightly, sensing the tension. “Or maybe they ran into Betty’s latest boyfriend and had to stage an escape.”
Zoe smirks. “Did she tell you about the time Betty once faked a British accent to seduce a French winemaker?”
“I thought he was Italian?” Jake asks.
“No, that was the guy she met in the customs line,” Charlie says.
Chase grins. “Icon behavior.”
I’m about to respond when the front door swings open.
Lulu steps in first, hair swishing, lips glossy, a red fur coat thrown over one shoulder. She spots me immediately, and as her lips curve into a smirk, she mouths: Miss me?
Behind her, Betty enters like she’s crashing a press junket.
She’s wearing a leopard-print wrap dress, oversized sunglasses inside, and a fur stole that looks vaguely illegal.
“Christ,” Chase whispers. “It’s the apocalypse.”
Gary looks up from behind the bar—and freezes.
For the first time in recorded history, Gary loses his words.
Betty clocks him just as fast, sliding her glasses down her nose. She smiles slow, like a tiger stretching.
“Well, well,” she purrs, “you must be the man with the jukebox that only plays Nickelback.”
Gary wipes his hands on a bar towel and blinks. “And you must be the one with the gin problem and no filter.”
“Buy me a drink and I’ll show you what else I’ve got.”
Jake coughs into his fist. “Oh my god.”
“Should we intervene?” Charlie murmurs.
“Absolutely not,” Tamara says. “I want to see how far this goes.”
Betty strolls over to the bar like she’s been coming here for years, drops her bag onto a stool, and leans in. “What’s your name, handsome?”
Gary doesn’t blink. “Gary.”
“Mmm. Figures.”
“I make the rules in here.”
“Oh, good. I love men with control issues.”
“Sweet hell,” Eli mutters. “I need stronger liquor.”
Chase nearly chokes on his drink. “She’s gonna break him.”
Zoe’s grinning wide. “He’s already broken. Look at his ears—they’re pink.”
Lulu finally reaches the table, and I loop a finger through her jeans, tugging her onto my lap. She laughs quietly as she settles in, one hand finding the back of my neck, fingertips stroking gently.
“Hi Pookie.”
I kiss her temple. “You’re late.”
“Was making an entrance.”
“You always do.”
She hums, leans in, and presses a kiss just below my ear, letting it linger softly. “You good now?”
I nod, clearing my throat, my arm tightening around her. “Better.”
She smiles against my skin. Just the smallest breath of warmth, the kind of smile I feel all the way through—quiet and sure and fucking mine.
My hand slides slowly up her back, under the hem of her top, until my palm settles between her shoulder blades. She sinks into it without hesitation, like she knows exactly where she fits. With me.
“Do you mind?” Eli mutters. “Some of us are trying to eat.”
“Let them have their moment, man,” Chase says, practically lounging. “It’s true love. You saw the ring. You heard about the rock sex.”
Jake groans again. “Please never say rock sex out loud ever again.”
Lulu turns back to the table like none of it fazes her, casually steals a fry, and plucks a beer from in front of Zoe. Her gaze catches back on the scene at the bar. “Should we be concerned?”
“I think we’re witnessing the start of a natural disaster,” I say. “Named Betty.”
At the bar, Gary’s pouring her a whiskey on the house. She clinks her glass against his without breaking eye contact.
This cannot possibly end well, but we’re drawn back to the table when Zoe claps her hands.
“Okay. The time has officially come. You’re getting nicknamed.”
Lulu lights up. “Oh God, yes. Let’s go.”
“I don’t want one,” I say immediately. “We don’t need a couple nickname.”
“Not a fucking chance.” Chase points a finger at me. “You were front and center for Chaz. You invented Jarlie. You don’t get to tap out now.”
“Yeah,” Jake agrees. “Your choices are participate or perish.”
Lulu’s eyes sparkle. “What about… Lulo?”
“Sounds like a tropical yogurt.”
“Pogan?” Zoe offers.
“Sounds like a diet.”
Jake leans forward, grinning. “Luggy.”
“No.”
“I think we go classic—Lulogan,” Charlie offers. “It’s cute.”
“Basic,” Chase says. “Loglu. Way punchier.”
Tamara snorts. “Sounds like a prescription.”
“Could be,” Jake says. “For rage. Taken twice daily by Eli Parnell.”
Eli glares. “Kill me.”
“LoLu?” Zoe tries.
“Sounds like a YouTube kids channel,” Lulu says, wrinkling her nose.
“I’ve got it!” Chase practically howls. “PooLu.”
Jake points at him, triumphant. “That’s the one!”
“No,” I say flatly.
“Too late,” Zoe sings. “It’s perfect.”
“It’s a bodily function.”
“It’s love,” Lulu counters, and presses a kiss to my jaw right in front of her brother.
Eli groans. “I’m gonna be sick.”
“You’re just mad your name is so much worse than theirs,” says Chase.
“E.T.,” Jake chimes in.
“Stop reminding me,” Eli hisses.
Lulu curls into my side and sighs like she’s never been happier.
The table breaks into another round of chaotic argument about whether “Chaz” should still be trending, and across the room, Gary is now pouring Betty a gin with the kind of reverence usually reserved for presidential visits.
And in the middle of it all, I sit there with the girl in my lap who said yes twice. Once with a plastic pink ring, then with a diamond.
She catches me looking, leans in, and kisses me. Soft and certain and completely unbothered by the room around us. No more secrets or sneaking or hiding. No tension in my spine wondering who might see.
I rest my forehead against hers for half a second, breathing her in.
She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, and I don’t even try to play it cool. I just hold her there, my thumb brushing her hip. Heart steady in my chest for the first time in too long.
“PooLu forever,” she whispers.
I groan, but she’s grinning, and somehow that’s it. That’s the whole thing. The whole damn world could fall apart and I’d still feel like the luckiest idiot in existence.
“PooLu forever,” I murmur back.
And I don’t care who hears it.
Because fuck, it feels good to love her out loud.