Epilogue
T he Snake Pit loomed in front of me, a stone fortress that mirrored the cold, relentless nature of its occupants. The rink's steel girders crisscrossed like a skeletal cage, and the fluorescent lights above cast a sterile glow that bounced off the ice, making it shimmer like a frozen lake under moonlight. The walls bore scars from countless clashes, and the air held a faint metallic tang mixed with sweat and ambition.
I wasn’t sure if coming here was the right decision. Hell, nothing about this felt right. But something had to change; staying stagnant would be worse. I clenched my teeth at the thought of her .
No.
Not right now.
I'd wasted so much time thinking about her.
Miss Adams saw through me too easily, and I hated it. Her eyes cut through my defenses like a blade. She seemed to read every hidden intention, every buried emotion. It made me feel exposed, vulnerable—things I’d long sworn off feeling.
Damn her.
But as much as I wanted to hate her for it, a part of me respected her ability to peel back layers that no one else had managed to touch. And maybe that was what scared me the most.
I pushed open the heavy doors and stepped inside. The cold air hit me first, sharp and unforgiving. My footsteps echoed on the concrete floor as I made my way toward the locker rooms. Players were scattered around, some prepping for practice, others lost in their own worlds.
As I approached the front desk, a young woman with auburn hair and bright eyes looked up from her paperwork. Her gaze settled on me, recognition flashing across her face.
"Oh, Mr. Crowder," she said, a touch of surprise in her voice. "Welcome."
I let a slow smile spread across my face, leaning slightly on the counter. "Well, howdy there," I drawled, letting my Southern accent pour out like honey. "I'm here for a psych eval."
Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she quickly gathered herself. "Of course, Mr. Crowder. Dr. Livingston's office is on the third floor. Just take the elevator to your left and follow the signs."
"Much obliged," I replied with a wink.
She giggled softly before nodding and returning to her work. I turned toward the elevator she indicated, my steps making a steady thud on the polished floor. The lobby was mostly empty at this hour, something I was grateful for.
I reached the elevator and pressed the button, watching as the numbers descended slowly from above. When it finally arrived with a soft ding, I stepped inside and pressed '3.' The doors slid shut with a quiet hum, enclosing me in a metallic cocoon.
The elevator moved smoothly upward, each floor passing with a muted click until it reached its destination. The doors opened to reveal a hallway lined with office doors, each bearing neat plaques with names and titles.
Following the secretary's directions, I navigated through the corridor until I found Dr. Livingston's office. The door was ajar, revealing a room filled with bookshelves and certificates framed on the walls.
Taking a deep breath, I knocked gently on the doorframe before stepping inside.
"Dr. Livingston?"
A young woman looked up from behind the desk, her eyes widening slightly before a flicker of annoyance crossed her face.
"Actually, no, he's on sabbatical, but I…" Her voice trailed off as she stared at me, realization dawning in her eyes.
I blinked. Something about her seemed familiar.
"Jared Crowder?" she asked, a scoff escaping her lips. "Of course. I knew I should have prepped before taking over for Livingston."
A slow grin spread across my face as I stepped into the room. "Well, as I live and breathe," I said, unable to hide my amusement. "Isla."
Isla Sawyer. Ava's kid sister. She'd grown up since the last time I'd seen her, that was for sure. I remembered Kash mentioning she went to school for psychology, but I'd never kept up with her. Not when my focus had always been on Ava.
Isla straightened in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. "What are you doing here, Crowder?"
"Needed a psych eval," I replied casually, leaning against the doorframe. "Didn't expect to see you here."
She raised an eyebrow, skepticism written all over her face. "Really? You need a psych eval? Why does that not surprise me?"
I shrugged. "Orders from the top."
Her eyes narrowed slightly as if she was trying to read between the lines of my words. She always had that sharpness about her, even when she was younger.
"Fail." Isla's voice cut through the air like a knife. "You fail."
I chuckled, spreading my hands wide in mock surrender. "Come on now, sugar. Give a man a chance."
"A chance?" Her laugh was sharp, bitter. "You forget, Crowder. I know you. I know you all too well." She stood up, her hands planted on the desk. "Let's see... There was that time you convinced Kash to jump off Miller's Bridge. Ava had to fish him out. Or when you talked him into stealing Old Man Peterson's truck. And who had to patch him up after that? My sister."
I clicked my tongue. "Now, those were just youthful indiscretions?—"
"And what about the time you two decided to race dirt bikes through the county fair? Ava was there trying to keep an eye on me, and I had to watch her patch up both your sorry asses. Or that summer you thought it'd be fun to break into the abandoned asylum?" She shook her head. "Poor Ava, always trailing after Kash because she liked him, dragging me along because she had to watch over her baby sister."
"Well now," I drawled, channeling every ounce of Southern charm I possessed. "That's ancient history. We were different people back then. Young, foolish, full of vinegar and bad ideas." I took a step closer to her desk. "But you'll find I've grown quite considerably since those days of misspent youth."
"Have you?" Her eyes narrowed. "Because from where I'm standing, you're still that same reckless boy who never thought about consequences. Just older, with better clothes and a bigger playground to wreak havoc in."
I studied her face, searching for traces of that quiet kid who used to trail behind Ava like a lost puppy. The memory hit me square in the chest — their first day in Alabama, Kash pointing out the new neighbors. Ava with her long red hair and fierce eyes, already catching my brother's attention.
Mine too.
And behind her, little Isla, clutching her sister's hand, eyes wide and wary in a face too small for them.
But this woman? The fire in her eyes knocked me back on my heels.
"Well, damn." I let out a low whistle. "Look who found her voice."
Her jaw tightened. "Found it? I always had it. You just never bothered to listen."
The sharp edge in her tone caught me off guard. Gone was the awkward first-grader who hid behind books and whispered responses. In her place stood someone who commanded attention, who wore authority like a second skin.
"Fair enough." I settled into the chair across from her desk, curiosity getting the better of me. "So tell me, doc. How'd you end up here? Last I heard you were heading to Stanford."
"You really want to know?" She leaned back, arms crossed. "Or are you just killing time until you can find another way to get close to my sister?"
The question hit like a sucker punch. Smart girl. But there was something else there—a challenge in her eyes that made me want to push back.
"Maybe both." I matched her posture, letting my drawl thicken. "That gonna be a problem?"
"For you? Absolutely." A smile curved her lips, but it held no warmth. "Because unlike when I was six, I see right through your act, Crowder. And I'm not about to let you mess with my family again."
The California girl was gone, replaced by someone who could hold her own in any room. Someone who'd learned to bare her teeth and mean it.
I wasn't sure whether to be pissed or intrigued.
Usually when it came to those two things, though, I was both.