Epilogue
MICAH: ONE YEAR LATER
“Oh my god, we can’t…fuck. Baby. This is such a bad idea!”
“No. Is very good idea. Best idea I have ever have.” He thrust harder, and the world spun, my feet almost losing their grip on the bathroom floor.
The entire house was nonslip, and Vanya and I had been testing out each room repeatedly over the last year since we’d moved in. The place was perfect—and it finally felt like ours.
Not just mine. Not just his.
There was an adjustment period, of course, where I wanted to throttle him some days because in spite of the fact that I literally had no eyes, he tended to forget I couldn’t see his fucking house shoes in the middle of the living room floor.
But he was good about everything else. He understood everything had to have a place. That if I wanted to live in my own home without struggle, we couldn’t compromise. And he never made me feel like shit about it.
He just embraced me: all of me. Everything I was.
Every side of me—even the ones that probably didn’t deserve to be loved as hard as he loved me.
And when moments like this happened, where I needed to be overwhelmed by his tongue, his hands, his cock—where I needed to feel pleasure and pain—he gave that to me.
“I don’t—uhg,” I gasped, my back arching, “I don’t think I sh-should attend my retirement—oh god—with my ass full of come.”
“Mm, I think is exactly how your retirement should go. Pretty cheeks painted red.” He slapped my ass hard, sending sparks of ecstasy through me.
“Asshole sloppy from me.” He gripped my hair hard and laid a wet, messy kiss against the back of my neck.
“Bruise on your nipples.” His free hand reminded me of just how much attention he’d paid that area right after I stepped out of the shower.
“Vanya,” I gasped. I knew I was facing the bathroom mirror, and I couldn’t help but wonder if we looked as good together as we felt.
I nearly asked him, but the next thrust hit my prostate, and words became impossible.
He knew the sound of that gasp and quickly began to hammer his dick into me so hard, I couldn’t breathe.
I was going to come. I was going to let go untouched, entirely his.
Exactly the way I wanted to be.
Bowing my head, I had just enough strength to fuck back on his cock once—only once—but that was all I needed.
My orgasm coursed through my body, my dick kicking hard as it spilled all over the counter in front of me.
My knuckles ached from how hard I was gripping the marble, and for a moment, I couldn’t fill my lungs with air.
“My love, my pretty little goalie,” he murmured. He took me into his arms, fucking deep in me, chasing his own climax as I sagged helplessly in his arms.
I was bruised and fucked out and loved beyond all measure. I had no idea what to do with this feeling in my chest.
“Marry me,” I blurted.
His entire body froze, and then he fucked into me once very hard, and I felt his spill. His fingers spasmed on my hips, then suddenly, his arms came around me, and he gathered me against his chest.
His dick was still pulsing inside me as he said against my ear, ragged and unsure, “You serious? Not just fucking talk?”
I turned my head, searched for his lips, and found them. The kiss he gave me was awkward and uncoordinated, and maybe also the best kiss of my life.
It was a kiss that meant yes.
A kiss that meant forever.
A kiss that meant I never want to live without you.
“I mean it,” I whispered.
He pulled out of me with a squelch and turned me in his arms, pressing my sore, aching ass to the counter as he lifted me. My legs went around his waist, and then he had me propped up at the edge of the sink, his hands cupping my face.
“I am so in love,” he said very softly. He repeated himself in Russian—words I was just starting to understand. “I say yes, of course. Always yes. Was wanting to ask you, but I didn’t think you wanted that.”
“To marry the love of my life?” I asked, brows lifting.
“It seemed…” I heard him swallow, the sound catching in his throat. His fingers were restless against the sides of my jaw, a nervous tic I hoped he never got rid of. “There are a lot of things you don’t like. And I could live like this—as we are—forever. But I have wanted. I still want.”
“Not every normal couples thing is for me. Or us,” I agreed. “But making you my husband?” I couldn’t help a small laugh as I dipped my head forward and nuzzled him with my nose. “That is the only future I want.”
“Then I am yours. But I always have been, pretty goalie.”
“Not going to be a goalie much longer,” I reminded him.
“Yes, you are. My heart is your net,” he said. “You defend.”
“Oh my god, stop,” I groaned.
He laughed and swung me off the counter, carrying me into the bedroom where he dropped me on the bed and pressed his massive body over mine.
“I will never stop. Not when it make you laugh just like this.”
I grinned for him, wide and unrestrained, exactly the way he liked, and he kissed me absolutely fucking breathless for it.
And hell, I think I lied before. Because that was the best kiss of my life.
I’d been to exactly zero NHL retirement ceremonies, but I knew about them. It was all a lot of music and lights, and the crowd was there because it’s usually before a game—or after, depending on when in the season they happen.
There were tears, and they would raise their jersey to the ceiling for the world to see.
It was not the same for us. What would be the point for a bunch of blind men who couldn’t see it hanging there? I knew it took the league a while to figure out what would be the best way for us to be honored, so we had a corridor, with braille tags and tactile photos. And I would be there soon.
I walked out onto the ice, my hand holding Vanya’s arm, my feet following along the carpet rolled out so I didn’t fall on my ass.
It was surreal and uncomfortable. I was never a fan of people watching me, especially when I wasn’t going to be in the crease with my mask on, my focus on stopping the puck.
“You okay?” Vanya whispered halfway through the speech Ben was giving.
I nodded. It was emotional, but not in the way most people were thinking. I kept that to myself, of course. I couldn’t help but wonder if things might have gone differently had Hunter not decided to target me.
Would I have played longer?
Would it have taken me years more to figure out that this was what I needed?
Would I still have Vanya?
I hated thanking that fucking fuck for anything, but I couldn’t quiet the little voice inside my head that said all the bullshit that went on had been for a reason. I’d still have my condo, and Vanya would have his brownstone.
Maybe we would have fallen in love, but I didn’t know if I would have been brave enough to take the leap and move in with him. I didn’t know if I would have rolled over with an ass full of come, lips swollen with his kisses, skin painted red by his painfully tender hand, and asked him to marry me.
And if I had done all of that, would I have meant it with the ferocity I meant it today?
My hand slid down his arm and found his fingers, squeezing tightly. Luckily, I wasn’t expected to give any speeches. I just had to wave and thank everyone and hug Ben, which was very easy to do.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered fiercely against my ear as he pulled me close. “It shouldn’t have happened this way.”
I pulled back a couple of inches. “What do you mean?”
“I should have done more. I should have tried harder to find that fucking guy before he—” His voice died in his throat. “I’m just sorry. Losing you is the worst, Micah.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I reminded him. “And this wasn’t about him. Or you. You didn’t fail at anything.” I took a breath, then said, “I’m happy. Like…actually happy, and I can’t remember the first time I could say that and mean it.”
He was silent for a long time, and then he slowly let me go. “I know you are. Promise me we’re still friends.”
“I’m like a barnacle on a whale’s ass, bud,” I said with a grin. “You pull me off and I’ll just reattach.”
“You’re so fucking weird,” he said, and I could tell he was smiling. “I’m happy for you.”
I heard the honesty in his voice, and when Vanya took my hand again to lead me to the line of my team—no, my former teammates—I finally felt like maybe I was going to lose it.
The Fury won that night. We didn’t stay for the game though, and I knew they’d understand. The people who weren’t dicks had my number, and the people who were didn’t care that I walked away early.
Vanya said he had a big surprise for me, which I knew was a party with everyone we loved. The Glaciers’ season opener wasn’t for another two weeks—the gap created so our playoffs didn’t run over each other—which meant I had him all to myself for a short while.
Well, mostly.
Tyoma had flown in last night, so I knew tonight was the night. I was a little pissed that a party was the first time I’d get to meet his terrifying brother, but maybe that was for the best.
“We’re home,” Vanya said.
I was tempted to let him have the surprise, but I was still on edge from everything, and I knew he’d forgive me. “How many cars in the driveway?”
He groaned as the car came to a rolling stop. “How did you know?”
“Because while I love the absolute fucking shit out of you,” I said, “you’re terrible at keeping secrets.”
He groaned again but reached over and tugged me into a kiss. “Fine. Is everyone we love, okay?”
“My brothers?”
“Mm. Jonah and Alexio get everything set up. Caleb even coming over.”
There had been an undeniable shift between all three of us since our mom left, but it was finally starting to repair. Especially now that for me, hockey was over.
We were all crawling on hands and knees toward something that made us who we were. Caleb had found part of his in his art and metal-smithing. Jonah was still trying to decide if hockey was something he loved or something he was using to escape.