Epilogue
Six Weeks Later: The Final Game of the Regular Season
Tanner
Ten seconds remaining. The clock above center ice isn’t a clock anymore. It’s a countdown to a detonation.
Ten. Nine. Eight.
My heart is pounding so loudly I’m surprised the crowd can’t hear it. Sweat stings my eyes, blurring the edges of my vision, but I don’t blink. I can’t. The puck is in the corner, Gino battling for it with two Dallas forwards. He slams one into the boards with a bone-rattling crunch.
Seven. Six.
I drop into my butterfly, my knees dug into the chopped-up ice. My adductors are screaming. My hamstrings are tight wires ready to snap. I’ve faced forty-two shots tonight. Nothing has gotten past me. That’s not gonna change now.
Five. Four.
The puck squirts loose. I track the black blur.
Three. Two.
The shot comes. High glove side. It’s a desperation heave, but it’s fast. I react. My glove hand snaps out, catching the puck with a satisfying thwack.
One.
I hold on to that damn puck like it contains the secrets of the universe, freezing the play for the final second.
Zero.
The horn sounds, long and loud, as eighteen thousand screaming Seattleites roar as they lose their minds with excitement. The glass rattles, the boards shake, and the very bones in my body seem to be vibrating with the tidal wave of joy that has descended over the arena.
I’m still on my knees in my crease, the puck still clutched in my glove hand. I don’t even get a chance to raise my arms before I’m swarmed by the five guys on the ice with me.
We did it. We clinched a playoff spot.
Usually, this is the part where I calculate my stats. Save percentage: 1.000. Goals against: Zero. Playoff probability: 100%. But right now, all I feel is joy.
More bodies crash into me as the bench clears.
“Sinc! You’re a fuckin’ wall, man!” That’s Jamie, dogpiling onto my back.
“Get off him, you dumbasses, you’re gonna crush him!” Gino’s voice is rough and loud.
Hands are patting my helmet, slapping my pads. I’m buried under a mountain of Sasquatch jerseys. It’s heavy and suffocating. It’s the best thing I’ve ever felt.
Eventually, the weight lifts. The guys are scrambling onto their skates. I push myself up, but my arms and legs feel a little like Jell-O. I get my skates under me and stand, swaying a little.
I flip my mask up to wipe the sweat from my eyes, looking toward the bench. The coaches are on the ice now, everyone grinning and laughing.
And Louis Tremblay is wearing the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on his face.
He’s not in his pads since McWhittier and I were the tandem for today’s game.
Instead, Lou’s wearing a navy blue suit that fits him like a glove, a crisp white shirt, and a red tie in the exact same shade of red as our logo.
He walks toward me with that familiar, loose-limbed, confident stride that’s just this side of too cocky.
The crowd noise changes from a roar of victory to a chant. LUUUUUUUUU.
But Louis doesn’t look at the crowd. He doesn’t look at the jumbotron. He doesn’t look at Rylan or Jamie or Austin.
He’s only looking at me.
My heart hammers a rhythm against my ribs that has nothing to do with the game I just played.
He stops in front of me, just outside the crease.
The contrast between us is almost laughable. I’m drenched in sweat, my hair sticking up in forty directions, stinking like the locker room, and encased in several pounds of pads and equipment, while Louis is pristine. He’s the polished image of success. The seasoned veteran. The respected mentor.
But when he smiles at me, it’s not his media smirk. It’s the smile he gave me in the cabin a few weeks ago when the firelight hit his face. It’s the soft smile that belongs only to me.
He extends his hand, and my mind flashes back to a few months ago, flat on my ass on the ice after he taped my skate blades. He reached a hand out to me then too. Back then, I thought he was mocking me. I thought he was pulling me up so he could knock me down again later.
But this time, I know what’s in his heart, and this isn’t just a “good game” handshake.
I look at his hand, then up at his eyes.
You’re not a guest here, Tanner. Not with me.
This man standing in front of me is so much more than the guy whose job I wanted to take from him only a few months ago.
He’s become my coach, my mentor, my closest ally—not only in hockey, but in life.
He’s the guy who tried to retire to make sure I stayed in this place where I was starting to feel like I belonged, where he knew I’d be successful.
He’s my best friend. The love of my life.
He’s my home.
I pull my blocker off my right hand and drop it to the ice, and then reach out and grip his hand. His grip is warm and solid, grounding me as he pulls me to my feet.
I don’t let go.
“You did it, Rookie,” he says, leaning close so I can hear him over the noise of the screaming crowd.
“You did it,” I counter. “You showed me I could. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have you.”
“Nah.” Louis shakes his head, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “This crease is yours, now, babe. Listen to that crowd. This is your house. I’m just gonna live here with you.”
I shake my head again, loving how he somehow manages to both challenge me and make me feel like I’m the best goalie that’s ever lived at the same time. I tug on his hand, pulling him so he’s standing on the blue paint with me. In the goalie crease. “There’s room in this crease for both of us.”
He shrugs, that cocky smirk that I’ve grown to love curling the side of his mouth. “I can live with that.”
I pull on him again, this time sliding forward on my skates a couple of inches until our chests are pressed together. Well—his suit is pressed against my pads.
I wrap my free arm around his waist, ignoring the gasp that ripples through the crowd. His eyes widen in surprise. “Really? You sure about this, Rookie?”
Hell to the yes, I’m sure about it.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything else in my entire life.” I at him. “I love you, Louis Tremblay.”
He stills, his mouth dropping open. We’d talked about maybe doing something to “come out” publicly after the season ends, but now that we’re going to the playoffs, we could be playing for a couple more months.
I’m the one who’s been hesitating. Lou’s been ready to shout about us from the rooftops, but until right this minute, I’ve been too busy working through all the different variables and scenarios, trying to figure out all the risks of what could happen.
But right now, with 18,000 people watching us, more than anything in the world, I want to claim this man as mine. This man is my home, and I want the entire damn world to know about it.
I crash my mouth down onto his. It’s not a tentative peck; it’s a claim.
Louis melts into me, his hand coming up to cup the back of my sweaty neck, holding me there like I’m the only thing keeping him upright.
The arena goes silent for a split second, like a collective intake of breath, and then it explodes. It’s louder than the win. It’s deafening.
I don’t know if they’re cheering or shocked or confused, and honestly, I don’t give one tiny rat’s ass. I kiss him until my lungs burn, tasting the coffee on his tongue and feeling the scratch of his stubble against my chin.
When we finally break apart, I rest my forehead against his. We’re both panting like we just played three periods of overtime.
Louis opens his eyes. They’re shining. He’s grinning like an idiot.
“So,” he says, breathless. “That just happened.”
I laugh, a ragged, happy sound that bubbles up from my chest. I look around the arena. The lights, the faces of the fans, our team surrounding us, catcalling and wolf whistling. It’s bright and loud and overwhelming. And it’s home.
“It sure as hell did.” I grin. “And it’s about to happen again.” I lean in to kiss him again when he pulls back slightly.
“I love you too.”
“I know,” I reply with a cocky smirk. Again, his mouth drops open in shock, right before a laugh bursts out of him, and he drags my head down to his in another scorching kiss.
We stay there, standing in our shared crease, our arms wrapped around each other as the crowd roars and our team celebrates around us.
And I’ve never been happier in my entire life.
Thanks so much for reading Louis. I hope you loved Tanner and Lou's story!