EPILOGUE
“Don’t get mad, get quicker!”
I shake my head from the bench, watching Boston gently shove a pouty Bennett Black as he passes him, right after sliding the puck through his little legs. The Black brothers are all in Pittsburgh. Yes, you heard me right. All the Black brothers.
All three of them. Four, I think, in a way we can’t see.
I glance down the ice where Kane and Miller watch Boston with Bennett, one beaming with pride, the other exuding discomfort.
We were all surprised he accepted Boston’s invitation, but here he is.
Strangely enough, Miller is especially kind to me.
He’s a little cold to his brothers, but I often wonder if it’s easier to be warmer with people who haven’t seen the worst in you.
Neither Kane nor Boston call him on it, but when he gets a little testy, I swoop in to talk about Arizona or to ask legal questions about my business plans I’m starting to iron out.
Work seems to calm him down. Talking to him is oddly comfortable.
Remi is sitting beside me, smiling as Kent crashes into his Uncle Miller’s legs.
She particularly loves the way that her kids shove their love onto him.
They force him out of his shell a bit because they refuse to stop bothering him, and there is not much he can do but accept it.
Miller catches him by the shoulders and awkwardly lets him go.
But Kent, cute as a button, adjusts his helmet on his head and beams up at his uncle like he hung the moon.
He’s taken a liking to grumpy Uncle Mills. He follows him around like his shadow and imitates his movements like he’s the coolest guy in the world.
Moseley giggles in Remi’s lap, reaching for a strand of my blonde hair.
He has a fixation with my hair. I don’t know why.
I appease him every time and let him pull, twirl, or shove the ends of it into his mouth.
Whatever keeps him smiling. Mose is the happiest kid in the world.
Pure joy. I’m putty for him and he knows it.
“Ah, there he is!” Boston calls.
Declan Lowes slides onto the ice with his token, dimpled smile. He skates right toward Bennett, holds out a fist, and waits for the little guy to shake off his frustration and tap his glove to his hand.
Boston starts to set up some cones on the ice, since Bennett practically begged to work on his stick handling while he was down here.
As he gets things ready, Declan greets both of Boston’s brothers and offers us ladies (and Mose) a wave.
Bennett brightens within a few seconds, like he usually does, forgetting that he was just about ready to drop the gloves with his uncle thirty seconds ago.
He can’t be angry. Not in this arena. Not on this ice.
He’s about to be coached by his uncle and the best center in the league.
Any young hockey player, even one related to Boston Black, dreams of this kind of experience.
Those green eyes flip a switch and suddenly, the little superstar is in the zone.
He gets busy, his head down and face determined. Declan takes over as coach, encouraging and correcting him gently as he works. Boston, in his backward hat and windbreaker, decides it’s a good time to take a break and skates toward the bench.
When he reaches us, he leans down on his elbow and glances at his nephew.
“Taking care of the girls, Mose?”
Moseley glances at him, eyes wide, and starts to giggle.
Boston’s green eyes slide to mine. “Bored yet?”
“Watching you on the ice playing daddy? No chance.”
“Ew.” Rem grimaces, but Boston breaks into a grin.
I lean forward, reaching for the boards. Using it to haul myself toward him, Boston rests both of his arms along the edge, his hands immediately sliding to my elbows to keep me upright.
His eyes flicker to my mouth, and I angle my head, halting inches from his face.
“I like the sweater.”
I knew he would. Baby pink and fluffy, patterned with little hearts. I gesture to him. “I like the face.”
Remi lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head.
Boston’s grin grows into a full-on, beaming smile. “I should get back out there before Lowesy corrupts my legacy.”
I snort, reaching forward to wrap my hand around the nape of his neck. His grip tightens on my arms as I press my mouth to his, enjoying the soft feeling of my favourite lips. I quite like the way they make my stomach swoop. Still not used to that.
I pull back, my eyes flickering up to his. He keeps me close, pecking my mouth for a final time before actually allowing some space between us.
“Get a goal for me, Boston Black.”
He cocks a brow, skating backward. “Against a nine-year-old?”
I shrug. “He’s not in net.”
Rem smirks. “Put Kane in there and give him hell.”
Boston glances at her, then at me, and he shakes his head. “I don’t like this alliance that’s brewing between the two of you.”
“Tough luck.” Rem flashes him a wink.
His eyes slide back to mine, his smile gentle.
He loves the alliance. He appreciates it.
I see it every time I tell him that Rem and I were texting to talk about the kids, or sharing recipes back and forth.
It’s in the light of his eyes when he watches me chase his nephews around the farmhouse.
It’s in the heat of his stare when I slide out of bed before him while his family is here, so that I can take care of everything on the farm for him, allowing him to enjoy time with his brothers when he wakes up.
When we get home, we have a nice dinner that Kane and Remi cook, and I settle into the sounds of a loud, bustling family.
A house full of people. Lemmy arrives with dessert.
Store-bought, obviously. She doesn’t bake.
Carter and Arden come by with arms full of candy for the kids, much to Kane’s dismay, and they join us for a home-cooked meal.
Maybe one day, in this bright and lovely future of ours, there are two more members of the Black family at this table. Healthy. Healing. Ready to come home. I can’t know for certain, but I can hope for it. For them. For him.
I lean against Boston’s shoulder as he and Kane discuss farm life, and his hand absentmindedly slides to my thigh.
My eyes catch my brother’s from across the table, his arm draped over the back of Arden’s chair.
He smiles gently, and I smile back. Look at us.
Happy. Fulfilled in all the ways that matter.
I sold my house in California two months ago. I still live with him and Arden, but I’m certain my roots are being planted here now. That last tie to California was my final goodbye to my old life.
My heart aches in that good way, thinking about those two kids in that big, empty house, making handshakes and promising to be there for each other. Forever.
We did it, didn’t we? The both of us. Figured this whole life thing out together. Got to the finish line, side-by-side, proud of each other. Together.
He dips his chin, his throat bobbing, the same thoughts likely flooding his mind.
Yeah, we did it.
I nod back, a conversation without words, and snuggle into the side of the person who changed my worldview. Boston instantly tugs me closer, his grip tightening, and Carter smiles at the mindless gesture. Turning his head, he presses a kiss to Arden’s hair.
When the house quiets and the guests leave, everyone who is visiting from out of town heading to bed, Boston and I shut the door to his bedroom, exhausted and fulfilled. Three little gremlins and one grumpy brother are a lot to endure for a whole week straight, and we still have another week left.
I follow him into the bathroom, running a hand through my hair.
He glances at me as he tugs his shirt over his head. “Tired?”
“Exhausted.” I hop up on the counter. He pulls his pants off and tosses them in the laundry hamper, leaving him in a pair of black briefs that make his thick thighs and ass look remarkable.
Well, I’m a bit more awake now.
He slowly makes his way toward me, bracketing his hands on either side of my hips. “They love you.”
I smile through my exhaustion, angling my head. “They love you.”
And they do. The way they look at him warms my heart. Even Kane. They see him the way I do. All of his remarkable parts. They adore him.
His eyes shudder. Still getting used to that, I think.
Realizing he has a family who loves him as much as he loves them.
That he’s always had them, he only had to reach out his hand.
Realizing if you fight for something, sometimes it just might pay off.
It might fight for you just as hard. Look at who joined us this time.
The brother who never answers their calls.
The brother they thought was a lost cause.
Sometimes, people just need to know that you’ll never give up on them.
Boston smiles, leaning forward to gently press his mouth to mine.
“I love you,” he says against my lips.
“I love you more,” I respond the way I always do, because I don’t think it’s possible for another person to love someone as much as I love him. Scientifically, I believe I am the one person in this world who has ever loved someone as deeply as I love this man. It consumes me.
“Wrong,” he mutters, kissing me a bit deeper now. His hands go to my waist, and he slides perfectly into the pocket between my legs. “Can you believe that it’s our first birthday tomorrow?”
I pull back, breaking into laughter, sliding my arms around his neck.
I fall against him, thriving off the way he chuckles in that deep, hearty way I adore.
I referred to our anniversary as our first birthday one time last month, and Boston thought it was the funniest thing on planet earth.
He laughed so hard that there were tears in his eyes, and it’s since become his favourite thing to say.
“You getting me something pretty?” I ask, interlocking my fingers behind his head and leaning back.
“Mmm, maybe,” he says, “but I was thinking about getting myself something pretty, too.”
I raise my brows. “Oh?”