Epilogue
ONE YEAR AND ONE MONTH LATER
Murphy
The sharp scrape of skates on fresh ice echoed through the rink, underscored by laughter and the kind of chatter that only came from kids loving every second of being out there. Murphy couldn’t stop grinning as he kept the puck sliding across the ice, stick to stick, between him and Patrick.
“You ready?” Murphy teased as Patrick leaned into his stride, his face lit with concentration.
“Born ready,” Patrick shot back, flicking the puck back to him with a proud little grin.
The sight never got old. Not when he thought about everything his brother had been through.
Not when he thought about the night he almost lost him.
Today wasn’t about that, though. Today was about joy.
About giving back. About skating with the Special Olympics team and remembering why he loved hockey in the first place.
Murphy glanced toward the stands, his heart pulling at the sight of Hillary sitting with his mom.
Finn was at their feet, tail thumping happily every time Hillary leaned down to scratch behind his ears.
That image—the two of them together, laughing at something his mom said, with Finn in the middle—hit him harder than any championship win ever could.
He skated another loop before calling out to Patrick, dropping his voice when they drew closer. “Hey, don’t tell anyone, but . . . I’m going to propose to her tonight.”
Patrick’s eyes went wide, a gleam of excitement sparking instantly. “No way!”
Murphy laughed, nudging the puck toward him again. “Yep.”
Patrick whooped so loud it made a couple of kids turn their heads, and Murphy couldn’t help it—he laughed harder, the sound bubbling out of him until his cheeks hurt. This was it. The life he’d always wanted. The one he hadn’t been sure he deserved until Hillary came along and proved he did.
The night air was cool, the kind that carried just enough bite to keep them close as they strolled down the winding path near his parents’ house.
A few streetlamps glowed warm in the dark, painting golden circles over the walkway.
Finn trotted happily ahead, leash slack between Murphy’s hand and his collar.
Murphy stole a glance at Hillary beside him, her auburn hair catching in the light, her hand brushing his every so often.
His heart hammered so hard it was almost funny.
He’d won a Stanley Cup, scored breakaway goals in front of packed arenas, and none of it compared to the nerves thrumming through him now.
He stopped walking. “Hil,” he said softly.
She turned, eyebrows lifting in question. “What’s up, Rookie?”
He smiled, shaking his head. “You know . . . I think I’ve loved you since that night at the gala, when you hit on me.”
Her cheeks flushed as she gave a disbelieving laugh and swatted his chest. “I did not hit on you.”
“You totally did,” he teased, grinning. But then the grin faded, replaced with something heavier. More certain. He reached for her hand, threading their fingers together. “But that’s not when I knew.”
Her breath caught, and suddenly the night felt impossibly quiet around them.
“It was when you came with me to Boston. When Patrick was sick, you didn’t even hesitate. You were just . . . there. That’s when I knew I wanted a life with you. A forever with you.”
Before she could speak, before his nerves got the better of him, Murphy let go of her hand long enough to drop down on one knee. Her eyes went wide, hands flying to her mouth as he pulled a small box from his jacket pocket.
“Hillary Lawson,” he said, voice steady now, as sure as he’d ever been about anything, “I love you more than I ever thought was possible. Will you marry me?”
Hillary’s yes rang in his ears all the way back to his parents’ house. He couldn’t stop grinning, couldn’t stop sneaking glances at her as they walked hand in hand, Finn trotting happily beside them like he’d been in on the plan all along.
When they stepped through the door, Murphy barely had time to take off his jacket before Patrick barreled into the living room with a grin wider than the Charles River.
“She said yes!” Patrick shouted, pointing at them like he’d just announced the winning goal.
“Patrick!” Murphy groaned, but it was useless. His family was already on them. His mom clasped Hillary’s hands, his dad clapped him on the back so hard he nearly stumbled, and Maddie squealed and jumped up and down.
Hillary’s cheeks were pink, but her smile was bright as Murphy slipped his arm around her waist and tugged her close. The house filled with cheers, laughter, and an impromptu toast with whatever soda cans were in the fridge.
Patrick was practically vibrating with joy, demanding to see the ring again, then holding it up like he’d been the one proposed to. His mom’s eyes shone with happy tears, and even his dad got misty.
Murphy looked down at Hillary in the middle of it all—his family, their family now—and felt the same awe he’d felt the first time he ever saw her across a crowded room. Only now, she was his.
Forever.