Epilogue
Author’s note: Since this is the final book in the More Than a Game series, I thought it would be fun to visit each of our couples one last time.
If you haven’t read all of the books yet, feel free to skip around to which ones you have!
Thank you for reading. This whole series was so fun for me to write, and this final book was no exception.
Be sure to read to the end to see what’s coming next! All my love, AC
Brock Jones
Three months later
I tap my fingers on the balcony railing.
The mountains dotted with fall foliage spread before me, and the sky is painted with a fiery sunset, but I can’t enjoy the view.
I’m too nervous that something is going to go wrong.
Ariel should be here soon, but I have no way of knowing exactly when.
Sutton told me when they left Charlotte, but since she’s driving, she couldn’t update me.
And I can’t talk to Ariel because she thinks I’m managing an all-day shoot with a magazine that’s featuring the Rockets. I don’t want to make her suspicious.
Right now, she thinks that she and Sutton are heading to the cabin for a girls’ trip while Shaw and I work.
In reality, I’m about to propose. I turn around and take in what I’ve set up for her.
The room is glowing with twinkle lights and filled to the brim with flowers that Miles’ wife, Ellie, arranged.
There’s a pathway through the flowers that leads to the balcony.
The place she always goes when she arrives here. The place where I’ll be on one knee.
It looks beautiful, but it doesn’t feel like enough.
Sutton assured me that though Ariel is a romantic, she wouldn’t want anything over the top.
I trusted her, as well as my instincts, and went with proposing in her favorite spot during the sunset.
At least, I hope it will be while the sun sets.
If they don’t get here soon, it might be dark out.
That would still be romantic, but it’s not what I envisioned.
I push my hands into my hair, then groan when I realize I probably just ruined all the careful styling I did to it earlier.
What a waste of time. Tires crunch on the gravel driveway.
My heart leaps into my throat. I quickly try to smooth my hair back and double check that the ring box is still in my pocket.
Then I press play on the playlist I made of Ariel’s favorite songs.
The one we danced to in my kitchen a few months ago, “Willow Tree,” begins to play right as she opens the door.
She looks gorgeous in her signature black dress.
It hugs her curves and shows off her legs.
Her hair is down in soft curls, and I have to resist the urge to cross the room to her and run my fingers through each one of them.
Surprise writes itself all over her features.
Her gaze bounces around the room, taking in the lights and flowers, until it finally lands on me.
The smile that takes over her face is mesmerizing.
Sutton stands a step behind her, phone in hand as she takes photos and films. Shaw and the rest of our friends are at a rented cabin a few minutes away, waiting to celebrate with us. Assuming she says yes. She could say no. My stomach clenches at the thought.
Ariel rushes toward me and throws herself in my arms. I smile and wrap myself around her. This feels like a yes.
“You tricked me,” she says near my ear.
“I had to. You love surprises.”
She giggles and pulls back to look up at me. “Only when they’re from you.”
I dip my head and steal a kiss. Then I take her hands in mine and gaze into her perfect blue eyes.
“It’s been less than twenty-four hours since I last saw you, and it feels like too much,” I say. She smiles. “I hate being apart from you. I’m better with you.” I squeeze her hands. “I want to say goodbye less.”
I get down on one knee. Her eyes become glassy. The sunset frames her beauty even better than I imagined.
“Ariel, I love you more than anything. I love your smile, your wit, and your loving heart. I want to spend the rest of our lives challenging each other and loving with a love so intense it shakes the foundations of the earth. Will you marry me?”
I let go of one of her hands to pull out the ring box, and open it. She gasps at the sight. Tears trickle down her face, and she uses her free hand to wipe them away as she nods.
“Yes, yes, I’ll marry you,” she says through her tears.
I slide her teardrop diamond ring onto her finger, then spring up to pull her into my arms where she belongs. Our lips crash together and we kiss through tears and laughter. When we finally pull apart, I press my forehead against hers.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” I ask.
“Hm?”
I smirk. “Soon I’ll be able to call you my wife .”
She fists the fabric of my suit. “How do you feel about eloping?”
Shaw Daniels
Ten Years After The Golden Goal
“All right, boys, you’ve worked hard all season for this. You know what to do, you just have to execute,” I say to the team of gangly little boys in hockey pads staring up at me.
“What does execute mean?” one of the boys, Dylan, asks.
“It means chop off someone’s head,” Carson shouts from the back of the group.
I rein back a smile. “It can mean to kill someone, but it also means to follow through. Which is what I need you to do tonight if you want to win the championship.”
They nod, their helmets bobbing in unison.
“So we shouldn’t kill them?” my son, Griffin, clarifies. Deep brown eyes just like his mom’s stare up at me.
A chuckle slips out. I can’t help it. “Not literally, but metaphorically, sure.”
“What does–”
I cut Dylan off with a clap of my hands. “Time to get on the ice. Who wants to do the chant?”
Griffin shoots his hand into the air. I try not to show favoritism, but I also have instilled a good work ethic and ambition into him that has him headed toward being a captain one day.
He volunteers for everything, even the things that no one else wants to do, like clean up the trash left behind in the locker room.
At just seven years old, he’s already showing great promise.
Pride swells in my chest as I put my hand in the middle. “Go ahead, Griff.”
He places his glove on top of my hand. A slew of others tops ours.
“‘Kill the Hawks’ on three,” Griffin bellows, and my eyebrows shoot up. “One, two, three.”
“KILL THE HAWKS!” my team of elementary school kids screech in unison. I might join in. No one will ever know. Except Brock, who’s appeared in the doorway to laugh at us.
“That’s some chant you’ve got,” he comments as we file out the door.
“If it helps them win, so be it,” I say with a shrug.
“You’ll win. No one can compare to Griff.”
I grin. “You’re biased.”
“Nah, I know hockey. That kid is going places. He’s better than you were when we were kids.”
“He better be, considering how many hours we’ve put in.”
As soon as Griffin could wear skates, we were on the ice together.
I did as much as I could to help him with my schedule, but our time together increased after I retired.
I didn’t expect to step back from playing, but after a season riddled with injuries and missing my kids, I knew it was time.
I did all that I could to help my team get one final Cup, then hung up my skates.
My first year of retirement has been better than I could have imagined. I’ve gotten to watch our daughter, Stella, dance her heart out at her recitals and competitions. And I took over as coach for Griffin’s team. Getting to watch them grow up is better than all the wins I’ve ever had, combined.
We reach the end of the tunnel. Brock smacks me on the back, then goes to give Griffin a fist bump before heading to his seat next to Ariel, their daughter Isla, and Stella.
Another great part about retirement has been moving back home to North Carolina.
We get to see family more, and the kids love having their little cousin around to play with.
The team skates out onto the ice to warm up.
I head to the players bench, where my beautiful wife is waiting for me as always.
She used to sit right behind the bench, but she had a habit of climbing over.
Eventually, she started staying there full time.
None of the other parents question it. I’m pretty sure they’re all afraid of her.
I give her a brief kiss as I enter. She smiles and tucks herself into my side after.
“How do you think they’ll do?” she asks as we watch them skate around half the ice while the Hawks assume their places on the other side.
“I think they can do great if they work together.” I let out a laugh. “Your son takes after you with his killer instincts. He led the team in a chant about killing the other team.”
She grins. “That’s my boy. I’m looking forward to watching it happen.”
“Me too. I’m proud of him. He’s worked hard this season.”
“I’m proud of both of you. The way you’ve been coaching them…it’s amazing, Shaw.”
My throat tightens. “Thank you.”
“It’s also incredibly hot.”
A smirk tugs at my lips. “Yeah?”
“It’s got me thinking we should try for another.”
Desire flares within me. I look down at her teasing smile. “Careful, Love, I might hold you to those words.”
“I’m counting on it.”
Miles Day
Five Years After The Perfect Putt
“It’s just another day on the course,” Fitz says as we walk to the green. I can barely hear him over the sound of my blood rushing in my ears.
“It’s the last hole during the tournament that will get me a calendar year grand slam.”
I’ve won three majors this year. Now, I’m on track to win The Open Championship. But I can’t leave anything up to chance. I need to make this putt to get birdie and secure my win against the golfers after me.
“Like I said, just another day.” He grins and hikes the golf bag higher on his shoulder.
We make it onto the green, where my ball is lying five feet from the hole.