Epilogue
REN
I cut across the ice, blades slicing through the frozen surface with speed.
My thighs burned as I pumped my legs and dodged an attack coming from my left.
The player from the opposing team missed me, slamming into the boards, but my focus was the puck sliding against the taped blade of my stick as I headed toward the net.
The goalie faced me, legs spread and arms at the ready, but he wasn’t prepared.
I hit the puck and it cut through the air before sliding into the top shelf.
The buzzer blared through the arena, and I tossed my hands up as I rounded the back of the net.
My team threw themselves at me, laughing as they crashed against me and nearly tipped me over onto the ice as the final buzzer of the third period blasted when the countdown hit zero.
Adrenaline pumped through my veins, the rush of blood roaring in my ears as I hugged my new buddies.
“Fuck yeah, Boo.” Rocky slapped me on the back of the helmet, laughing. “You fucking rock, dude.”
It’d been three months since I’d joined a beer league, and despite it mostly being for fun, these guys took the game seriously. They liked winning as much as I did, and I’d had the pleasure of finding release through the roughness of the sport.
Our home crowd was standing, clapping enthusiastically at our win, and I caught sight of KC and Oli in the stands beside Luke and a reluctant Quain. I waved at them, and my boyfriends sent me air kisses in return.
On the team bench was Ripley, his arms crossed as we skated toward him and our coach.
He looked the same as always with his short brown hair all over the place.
A few strands stuck up here and there, probably from him running his hands through it anytime I did something he thought was dumb.
Winter scruff had taken over his face, and I was a little surprised to see he’d grown out a mustache.
He happened to be in town for his own game against the Blizzards, and he’d promised to join me and cheer on my teammates.
As soon as our coach had seen him, though, he’d invited Ripley onto the bench.
As one does.
When the crowd had spotted Ripley, they’d gone bananas. Even though he wasn’t a Blizzard, he was still a pro, and it wasn’t often you found an NHL player at a beer league match.
I reached the boards in front of the bench and grinned at my old friend. “What do you think? Do I still have it?”
“No,” Ripley said without missing a beat. He chuckled anyway as he opened the door for us.
I clapped him on the shoulder as my team stepped in and down the hallway to reach their lockers.
The arena we played our home games at wasn’t the same as the Blizzards’, but it wasn’t small, either.
New Gothenburg loved hockey, even if it was minor leagues, and they showed up in full force to support all their teams.
“It’s good to have you here.” I winked.
“Fuck off.” Ripley knocked his arm against mine anyway. “As long as you show up for my game tomorrow night.”
“Sure, but I’m a New Gothenburg guy now. I’ll be rooting for the Blizzards,” I teased.
He grunted out a half laugh because we both knew it wasn’t true. I’d always been a Waves fan, and Ripley was my boy, in a nonsexual way.
“Wait for me outside the locker room and I’ll take you to meet my boyfriends.”
I ignored his grumble as I made my way through the hallway to the locker room. Most of the other guys were in varying stages of undress, talking excitedly about the game and Ripley fucking Thorne being there and watching them.
“How’d you meet him?” Rocky asked from his cubby, half undressed and staring at me in awe. His brown hair was wet from sweat and falling around his eyes. He brushed the locks off his forehead.
“School. We played together in high school.” I shrugged, smiling.
“Is he really one of the biggest assholes in the league?” Petey asked.
“Yes,” I answered. Ripley could be a real asshole outside of hockey, too, but when you grew up in a family like he did, I wouldn’t expect anything less.
I answered other questions they threw at me, but otherwise I kept to myself as I shed my uniform and protective padding. I was the first one in the showers, and I moved with speed, washing off the sweat and grime until I was clean, the smell of the cheap soap thick on my skin.
Ripley was waiting for me in the hall outside the locker room.
“Were they jerking off to me in there?” Ripley smirked. Cocky motherfucker.
“You know it.” I chuckled as we walked down the hall together.
KC and Oli were bundled up and waiting for us outside the arena, and they straightened when we exited the door.
Blustery winter air smacked me in the face.
Quain and Luke were gone, thank fuck. Luke and I still weren’t on great terms, but we were working our way toward a better relationship.
I’d met Uncle Errol and he was as crazy as advertised.
Luke and I talked on occasion after sharing contact details, but we had a long way to go.
It was a far better scenario than I’d imagined when I’d first started talking to him.
KC and Oli were well on their way to forgiving me, and we’d reached a point where I thought we were good for each other.
KC had found a nutritionist to work with him alongside his trainer, and he’d also started seeing a psychologist to help sort out the issues he was having with food.
Oli’s tattooing skills were improving under my supervision, even if it was a hell of a lot slower than I wanted.
Luke had forgiven him for working with me.
They were back to being close. Our problems weren’t completely solved, but we were heading in the right direction.
Which was why I wanted them to know more about my life and meet one of my good friends.
After I gave them each a kiss on the lips, I threw a thumb in Ripley’s direction. “Sweethearts, meet my buddy from high school. Ripley Thorne. Rip, this is KC and Oli.”
Ripley shook their hands, a smirk twisting the corner of his mouth. “Boys. Nice to meet you. Ren’s told me about you. Nice to see two someones put a leash on this dog.”
“Still prettier than you,” I shot back, earning a laugh from him.
“You’re talking to the second sexiest man in the NHL.” The smug bastard pressed his tongue into the inside of his cheek. I couldn’t argue with that, especially when the vote had been published in multiple magazines.
“Not first, though.” I raised my eyebrows, and the smirk slipped off his mouth.
“Asshole.” He punched me in the shoulder with enough force to make it sting. “We’re not going to talk about who was first.”
I held up my palms.
KC and Oli watched us carefully.
It was KC who spoke up. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve seen this side of Ren yet.”
Ripley made a sound in the back of his throat as he crossed his arms again and rocked on his feet. “Yeah, well, we’ve known each other for a long time. When you both get sent to the shitty boarding school we went to, you bond over things you enjoy, like hockey.”
“And violence.” I stepped into Oli’s and KC’s space and curled my arms around their shoulders, dragging them closer. They both leaned into me almost instinctively, and I savored their warmth and the weight of them against my sides. “We’re going out for dinner. Are you coming?”
“We want to know stories about Ren in school so we can give him shit.” Oli’s smug grin lit up his entire face, a confidence blooming in him that I enjoyed seeing. He was extra adorable because the wind had made his cheeks rosy.
“I wish I could, but I have practice early in the morning and Coach is up my ass about being there. We’ve got a fucking curfew like we’re kids.
” He eyed a group of girls walking past us, and they giggled as they pointed at him.
They hesitated, stopping, and he shook his head sharply in warning.
He had a reputation for being the asshole of the NHL for a reason.
The girls quickly walked off in the direction of the parking lot.
“But if you get Ren, here, to give you my number, we’ll talk. I’ve got a lot of stories.”
“Fuck you,” I grumbled, then laughed.
I wasn’t surprised that he said no. During the season, he was always on the go. If it wasn’t practice and games, it was traveling and spending the small amount of time he had fucking randos. He was a busy guy, but that was what happened when you made millions playing a pro sport.
I released Oli for a second to hold out my fist to Ripley, and he tapped his knuckles against mine. “You should come and hang out in the off-season.”
Ripley frowned. “You’ll still be around this shit hole then?”
I glanced from KC to Oli, taking in their wide, concerned expressions, and smiled. “Yeah. I have a reason to stay.”
“Whipped,” Ripley said, his tone light and teasing. He slapped me on the shoulder and inclined his head toward KC and Oli. “I’ll see what I can do about summer and visiting. Maybe you can all come to LA.”
“I’ve never been to California,” Oli said.
Ripley opened his arms. “That’s done then. My place is big enough and I live on the beach. You can come out and visit me and spend as much time as you want.”
“As long as you don’t flirt with my guys,” I hit back.
He chuckled. “As cute as they are, you know I’m a pussy dude. Never been interested in a cock yet.”
Yet. That was the thing about Ripley. While he claimed he was straight and had never been attracted to a man, he wasn’t willing to say never. He was open-minded.
“Text me.” I gave him a loose hug, slapping his back, and he returned it.
He nodded in goodbye to KC and Oli and strutted toward his black Porsche Taycan.
The group of girls from before were still hanging around, and they rushed over to him with their phones at the ready.
This time he let them take their photos.
I noticed him lean in closer and use his seductive smile, and I laughed because I knew he was going to end up in an orgy.