Epilogue #2
“Fuck that,” Hartmann says. “I’ve had plenty of wins this season and two shutouts this series. This is your game. Probably your last game, ever. And there’s no way anyone but you should be standing between the pipes when the buzzer sounds. Get your ass out there, and finish our season for us.”
“You heard him,” Coach Wilcott says. “Go get ‘em boys!”
And that’s what we do. We show St. Louis no mercy, not even when they pull their goalie in a desperate attempt to score one more goal.
Instead, Coach makes a line change with thirty seconds left, and Drew sinks the puck into the empty net.
When the final buzzer sounds, we flood the ice amid the deafening cheers of a home crowd and the championship music blasting through the speakers.
It’s momentary chaos as gloves and sticks and helmets go flying before we all pile onto Colt in celebration, and then we’re lining up and shaking hands with St. Louis.
The Commissioner presents the trophy for the most valuable player in the series, and it’s only fitting that it goes to Luke Hartmann.
He stepped into his own this season, and in the playoffs he more than proved he’s ready to take Colt’s spot when he retires.
His two shutouts in this match-up against St. Louis really cemented that he deserves this award.
Then the Cup is brought out and presented to our team, and McCabe takes his turn skating a lap around the ice, holding it above his head.
As he hands it to me and I circle the ice, I soak in the moment.
Being injured last season seemed like one of the worst things that could have happened to me.
But in retrospect, maybe it was the best. Maybe everything would be different now if I hadn’t missed last season.
Maybe tonight’s victory wouldn’t feel quite so sweet.
After I pass the Cup to Walsh, my gaze flicks up to the luxury suite I know Morgan’s watching the game from, but it appears to be completely empty.
So my eyes search along the glass, hoping this means the families are already in the tunnel to be let onto the ice, and sure enough, I catch sight of Jules and Eva, but not Morgan.
I want nothing more than to share this moment with her now that I’ve had time to bask in this win with my teammates. Next to me, McCabe throws an arm over my shoulders. “Don’t worry, she’s probably just a few people back in that line.”
“Why would I be worried?”
“You get this look when she’s not around . . .”
I let myself stop searching for Morgan long enough to glance at him. “Oh yeah, what kind of look?”
“I don’t know,” he says with a shrug. “There’s a tightness in your face, almost like you’re in pain.”
Funny, that’s how it feels too. Her absence is a physical ache that only goes away when we’re together.
I assume it won’t always be like this. That gradually we’ll settle into being an “old married couple” and every moment together won’t feel quite so precious.
I kind of hope that’s not the case, because I know very well that nothing’s forever and I never want to stop valuing each moment I get with her.
I respond with something that sounds like Hmpf, and McCabe huffs a laugh.
“You ready?” I ask him.
He clears his throat, no longer laughing, and glances at the carpets laid out near the bench where AJ stands in a pale blue suit and heels, next to Frank and Tucker Hartmann, the entire Rebels coaching staff, the equipment managers, and our team doctor and trainers.
“More than ready,” he says. We wait for our teammates to finish their turns with the Cup, and then the boards are being opened to let our families onto the ice.
“Give me a minute to get back with Morgan,” I say to McCabe as I skate away.
“No promises,” he calls after me.
The families are walking out onto the ice, and it takes me a minute to find her.
But once I zero in on her strawberry blonde hair, I skate around a few people, then scoop her up into my arms before turning back toward the center of the rink.
She laughs as she tightens her arms around my neck while we speed across the ice.
“Congratulations.” Her voice soft as she plants a kiss on my cheek.
“Thanks. Couldn’t have done it without you,” I say as I navigate my way around other players.
“Yes, you could have.”
“Wouldn’t have wanted to, though.” I glance at her quickly, hoping she can see the sincerity in my eyes before I have to focus back on the ice so we don’t run into anyone.
She squeezes my neck in a quick hug. “Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see.” I come to a quick stop at center ice, right near the carpets that were rolled out from the bench, just as McCabe sinks down on one knee. AJ’s hands fly to her mouth and it feels like the entire arena takes one collective gasp.
“You knew?” Morgan asks as I set her on the ice to stand next to me. With me in skates and her in sneakers, she only comes up to my armpit, but she snakes her arm around my waist, squeezing me to her side even though I must smell terrible.
I squeeze her back, knowing she appreciates being here to see two of our closest friends get engaged. There’s a lot we can communicate these days even without words.
AJ sinks onto her knees facing McCabe, nodding as tears fall down her face.
It’s too loud for Morgan and me to hear what they’re saying to each other, but we watch as McCabe unties a ring from his lace where he’s tucked it into his skate and slips it onto her finger.
The fans and our teammates erupt in cheers, and then I turn toward Morgan.
“I’ve got something for you, too.”
Her eyes widen as she looks up at me. “Don’t you dare.”
My chest shakes with a laugh. “Not only do I know you well enough to know you’d hate a public proposal, but I had no desire to follow that,” I say, reaching my hand up under my jersey.
Her brows knit together as she watches my fingers fumble behind the fabric, and then I’m pulling out a gold charm bracelet that I’d hooked onto my shoulder pads for the game.
There’s only one charm on there . . . for now. I secure it around her wrist and she lifts it to get a closer look.
“An anchor?”
“Because you’re my anchor.”
She cocks her head as she looks up at me. “Weighing you down?”
“Holding me steady, no matter what storms may come,” I say, and her lips curve up in a smile.
“Sometimes, I think about that anchor getting stuck in Bermuda, and how things might not have happened the way they did otherwise. We might have gotten back to that beach in time to get on that boat before it left. We might not have ended up in that cave together. And if we didn’t, maybe you wouldn’t have agreed to go out to dinner with me that night.
” I gulp as I think that, despite all the obstacles lining our path, there were also a lot of small moments that pushed us together.
“If we’d been a one-time hookup before the wedding, maybe we could have kept resisting each other once we got back to Boston.
In a lot of ways, that anchor led us here. ”
Her eyes are filled with tears as she stares up at me, and I bend to press a kiss to her forehead.
“I never could have resisted you for this long. We were always going to end up together.” Her words tumble out on a choked laugh as those tears slip down her face, so I cup her cheeks and wipe them away with my thumbs.
“Maybe,” I say, “but I’m glad that anchor got stuck and helped us along.”
She chuckles, then presses up onto her toes to give me a kiss. “I love the bracelet, thank you.”
Then you’re really going to love the ring, I think to myself.
She thinks we’re going back to Bermuda next week.
She has no idea we’re leaving tomorrow afternoon—a plan that was helped along by Eva, who secretly packed a suitcase for Morgan a couple days ago, just in case we won tonight, and Luke, who was able to coordinate the use of one of his family’s private jets last minute.
She thinks we’re staying at a hotel just outside Hamilton, and has no idea I’ve rented a house with its own private moongate that overlooks the ocean, and its own private beach with a cave that’s only accessible at low tide.
She has no idea that she’s leaving Boston as my girlfriend, and returning as my fiancée.
Or maybe she does? I’ve made no secret of the fact that I want to marry her as soon as possible.
Because if there’s one other thing I’ve learned over the past ten months, it’s that when you finally get what you want, you hold on with both hands.
Which is what I plan to do, with Morgan, forever.