Epilogue #2
My mom barely gets the words out before she’s pulling me into her arms, giving me a tight hug, and when my dad steps in behind, he wraps his arms around both of us.
For one tiny moment, I feel it.
Complete.
I’ve been spending years trying to get my parents’ approval, and I think I might’ve just got it.
“You were absolutely beautiful up there,” Mom says, her voice breaking enough to know she’s holding back her emotions.
When she pulls back, her eyes are glossy, and her smile is trembling with the kind of pride I’ve spent my entire life watching her reserve for Noelle.
“I knew you had an amazing voice,” she adds softly, “but I’ve never heard you sound like that. ”
“It was so professional,” Dad says, his grin wide and unmistakably real. “you were made for that, honey.” He squeezes my shoulder, grounding me. “We are so proud of you.”
I inhale, my breath slow and shaky when I feel my emotions about to take over.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
They’ve praised me before—when the schedules allowed them to come and see me—but most of that felt forced. How great can you really be when you’re playing donkey number three?
This is different, though. This is the first time I’m not shrinking under their compliments. This is the first time I’m standing here thinking, Yes. This is me, and what I was born to do.
And I’m thinking like that because for the first time, I’m actually proud of myself. I love my parents, but they could’ve acted the same way they did for me in high school, and I’d still feel the same.
I was born for this, and I have Scotty to thank for realizing it.
“Thank you,” I manage to get out, holding back my emotions. “That means—that means everything.”
A roar erupts from the arena as the game is set to begin, and all I can think about is Scotty. He’s out there now, and I want to be out there rooting for him.
The crowd chants something unintelligible, and Dad glances back toward the entrance.
“We should probably get to our seats,” I say. “Don’t want to miss the game.”
“Good call. Wouldn’t want to keep our future son-in-law’s parent waiting.”
“Dad,” I groan, heat flooding my face. “Please don’t say things like that.”
He raises his hands and chuckles. “Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it. He brings out the best in you.”
“You’re reading way too much into it,” I say, holding back the smile, and thread my hands through my parents’ arms. “Come on. Let’s go.”
I wish my parents good luck with Scotty’s and check my phone before joining Lyss and Reign in our usual seats.
No missed calls, but I have a bunch of messages from my theater friends Lana, Curtis, Danny and Jo. I don’t bother responding to them immediately, I have better things to do tonight, and that’s watching my boyfriend play.
Lyss and Reign are sitting in our usual season seats as I climb up to join them, not even missing the face off.
“You killed it,” Lyss says, handing me a hot chocolate. “As per usual.”
“Thanks.” I settle in, wrapping my hands around the cup. “I still get nervous every single time.”
“You don't look it,” Reign points out. “You look like you were born to do this.”
Maybe I was.
Six months ago, I would have laughed at that idea.
Now? Now I'm starting to believe it.
The puck drops, and the game begins. Scotty glides across the ice with that effortless, impossible grace that still manages to take my breath away.
It takes almost everyone’s breath away honestly.
He might have an NHL deal lined up, but he plays his heart out every game.
That’s why he’s having the best season ever.
“He's on fire tonight,” Lyss observes as Scotty steals the puck and speeds down the ice.
“He always is when Laura sings,” Reign adds with a knowing smile.
I don't deny it. I agree. Scotty and I… well, we just fit.
I felt it the first night I sang the national anthem, and clearly everyone else can see it too. We push each other to be better, to chase our dreams, to remind each other of the things we’re capable of.
Scotty takes a shot. The puck rockets off his stick and slips cleanly past the goalie’s glove. The red-light flashes, and the arena erupts.
Hendricks! Hendricks! Hendricks!
The crowd chants his name and he throws his arms up before his teammates swarm him, tapping his helmet and slapping his back with their gloves.
When Scotty looks up, our eyes meet across the ice.
Yeah. We fit.
By the time the first period ends, I’m ready to go down a few seats to say hello to Scotty’s family when the lights suddenly dim and the jumbotron flickers to life.
“Coming in two weeks,” the announcer’s voice booms. “The spectacle you’ve been waiting for. Evermore on Ice.”
Spotlights sweep across the rink, illuminating a miniature winter wonderland set up. Fake snow starts drifting from the rafters as dramatic orchestral music blasts through the arena.
“What’s happening?” Lyss asks.
Suddenly, out of the rink door, a figure bursts out.
A white fox.
Full costume. Ears. Tail. Headpiece with glittery eyelashes.
The crowd erupts in laughter before the announcer even finishes:
“Featuring the unforgettable antics of… Mr. Nibbles!”
Scotty’s teammates slam into the boards, dying laughing, because of course, of course, it’s Erik. When they called him back and said they couldn’t do this production without his antics, he asked me if it was okay, and I gave him my blessing.
Who knew he was born to play a furry, white fox?
He immediately attempts a cartwheel on the ice. It goes as well as expected: he lands on his butt, pops back up with a flourishing bow, and the crowd goes wild.
Then he starts a full choreographed routine with two dancers dressed as snowflakes. Unfortunately for the back up dancers, it’s clear Erik starts improvising.
“Is he—” Reign covers her mouth.
“Don’t say it,” I choke out, laughing.
“—doing the splits?” Reign finishes anyway.
He is. He absolutely is, and the crowd loses their minds.
Erik pops up, does a dramatic tail swish, and skates backward toward the center ice spotlight.
One of the Crushers Ice Girls skates out to hand him a prop lantern, clearly part of the routine. She’s a tall redhead, and even from here, I can see her scowling as Erik launches into a dramatic monologue with absolutely no microphone.
He drops to one knee, clutches the lantern to his chest, and howls mournfully like a fox with heartbreak.
The arena howls back.
Just as the music ends, Erik attempts a backflip, and…. Lands it.
The crowd explodes, cheering like he just saved a puppy from a burning building.
“Tickets on sale now!” the announcer roars as Erik strikes a final pose with jazz hands, tail swishing dramatically.
Lyss is wiping tears from her eyes. “I swear, he’s going to be more famous than you two.”
I laugh, breathless. “Honestly? He might be.”
Erik finally disappears back into the tunnel—still waving, still dramatic, still Mr. Nibbles—the entire arena is buzzing.
The lights come back up, the ice is cleared, and just like that, the energy shifts. The second period starts, and Scotty hits the hit like he never left it. He dominates every shift, scoring twice, assisting on another, and by the time the final buzzer sounds, the Crushers have taken the game 5–2.
The crowd goes wild, and I make my way down toward the tunnel where players will emerge after the locker room celebration.
I don't have to wait long.
Scotty appears, hair still damp from the shower, cheeks pink from the cold, and his whole face lights up when he sees me standing near his parents. He drops his bag without looking and pulls me into a kiss that makes the crowd noise fade into nothing.
“You were incredible,” I say when we finally break apart.
“So were you.” He keeps his hands on my hips. “Best anthem of the season.”
“You say that every time.”
“Because it’s true every time.” He presses a soft kiss to my forehead before turning to hug his mom, his dad clapping him proudly on the shoulder.
His mom beams at me. “You sang beautifully, Laura.”
“Thank you,” I say, cheeks warming.
We chat for a minute, warmth circling around us like a little family bubble, until Scotty’s parents are pulled away by Coach for photos. That leaves Scotty and me tucked against the wall, his arm around my waist, his breath warm on my hair.
“So,” he says gently, “winter break starts. We’ve actually got some time off.” He nudges me. “What do you want to do, Princess?”
My stomach twists—not with fear, but guilt. We’ve been skirting this conversation for weeks. And now, with his parents right there, with everything feeling so real… I can’t avoid it anymore.
“I, um… I might not be totally off,” I admit quietly.
His eyebrows lift. Not upset. Just curious.
“Remember those opportunities I was telling you about?”
“Yeah?”
“A talent agent in New York wants me to come in over break to record a demo. She thinks she can pitch it to some labels.” I pause, steadying myself.
Scotty’s whole face softens with pure pride.
“Laura,” he breathes. “That’s incredible.”
“I know. It just—it all hits at once. And we finally get a break, and I wanted…” I trail off, guilt tightening my throat. “I wanted that time with you.”
He cups my jaw, tilting my face up to his. “Hey. Look at me.” His thumb strokes my cheek. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”
My breathing stutters.
“You think I’m gonna be upset that the world finally noticed what I’ve known since the first night I heard you sing?” he asks softly. “Princess, this is huge.”
“But we barely get time together,” I whisper. “I don’t want to… I don’t want to lose that.”
“You won’t.” His forehead presses to mine. “We’ll still have time. And if you need to be in New York for a few days? I’ll deal. I’ll miss you, but I’ll deal.” He smiles at me, lopsided and adoring. “We’re strong enough for that.”
“You sure?” I ask, needing to hear it.
He laughs gently. “Princess, I’m not going anywhere. You go record your demo. You take those meetings. You chase whatever feels right. I’ll be here when you get back.”
My heart squeezes tight. “I’m proud of you too, you know,” I whisper. “The way you play… the way you carry yourself… I’m proud every single day.”
His expression cracks open with something tender and unguarded. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Scotty slips his fingers through mine, lifting them between us like a promise neither of us has to say out loud.
“Then we’re good,” he murmurs. “You’ve got big things ahead. I’ve got big things ahead. And we’ll face all of it together.”
Behind him, his parents wave, beaming like he just won the Stanley Cup.
Scotty leans in, kissing me once—slow and sure.
“Come on,” he says, tugging me gently toward the exit. “We should celebrate. Your performance. My win. Erik’s… fox debut.”
I laugh. “He’s going to be insufferable.”
“He already is.” Scotty grins. “But he’s preoccupied with that Ice Girl, so at least he’s not trying to meddle with us anymore.”
We step out of the arena into the crisp winter air, fingers intertwined, hearts steady. I don’t know exactly what comes next—New York meetings, demos, maybe even Broadway, but I'm not running from opportunities anymore.
I'm running toward them.
And for the first time in my life, that doesn't scare me. It excites me, because I finally understand what Scotty's been trying to tell me all along:
I'm good enough.
More than good enough.
And whatever comes next?
I'm ready for it.
THE END
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed Scotty and Laura's story.