Epilogue
TRISTAN
Five years later…
The puck dropped. Cole won the draw, snapped it back to our defenseman, and drove hard toward the net. I flanked him on the right—we’d done this a thousand times and were so synched up, we moved as one.
The opposing defenseman committed to Cole. He slid the puck across the ice. I one-timed it.
The red light flashed.
“Fuck yes!” I crashed into Cole, and he wrapped his arms around me, laughing into my shoulder.
“That’s three!” he shouted over the noise.
“Hat trick, baby!” I shoved his helmet. “Fuck yes!”
Hats rained down on the ice as we skated back to the bench. Alek waited, professional mask firmly in place, but his hand lingered on my shoulder when I sat down.
“Good shift,” he said quietly. “Do it exactly like that in the playoffs.”
We were locked in, fighting for seeding now. This late in March, every game mattered.
I caught movement in the stands—Jordon Mitchell, the rookie we’d called up from the AHL last month. The kid was talented—eighteen years old, drafted straight out of high school, sitting with the staff because he wasn’t ready to play yet. But he would be.
Jordon reminded me of myself at eighteen—scared, out of his depth, the only Black player on a team that wanted to be inclusive but didn’t quite know how.
I’d taken him under my wing like Dr. Parker had taken me under hers.
The final buzzer sounded. We won 4-2, and the arena went fucking crazy.
I found Alek first in the celebration, our eyes meeting across the ice. He nodded once. We’d built this together, from the fucked-up mess we’d left in Yorkfield to this. He’d built this team from nothing, and I was fucking honored to be part of that.
Eva stood in the stands, her smile taking up her whole face, stunning even when she was exhausted from her residency.
Delaney sat beside her, cheering and grinning.
Those two had become unlikely friends when she’d sought shelter from her father with the bratva after Cole blew up their fake engagement.
Or real engagement but fake relationship. Whatever it was.
Cole appeared at my side, sweaty and grinning. “Ready to head home?”
“Yeah.” I glanced back at Alek, who was already talking to the head coach, debriefing the game. He’d be another hour at least. “Text him and tell him we’re bringing dinner.”
Cole’s grin widened. “Thai or Italian?”
“Whatever Eva wants.”
“Lebanese, then.”
I laughed. “Every fucking time.”
Eva’s car was already parked on the street when we pulled up to the brownstone. She’d beaten us home—barely.
Cole grabbed the takeout bags while I unlocked the door.
We found Eva at the kitchen table, surrounded by textbooks and notes, wearing my old Yorkfield hoodie and a pair of shorts so fucking short, they should have been criminal.
Her Mass General ID badge lay on the table, spilling out of her backpack.
She’d pulled her red hair into a messy knot, and she had that glazed look that meant she’d been staring at the same page for twenty minutes without absorbing anything.
She looked up when we walked in, and her whole face transformed with affection. “Hey.”
“Hay is for horses,” Cole teased as he set the bags on the counter. “You eat yet?”
“I had a granola bar.”
“That’s not food.” He started unpacking containers. “Brought home takeout.”
“I love you,” she said, and fuck, even after five years, hearing her say it so easily still did things to me.
I nuzzled her hair, inhaling her clean creamsicle scent, and pressed a kiss to her temple. “How was your shift?”
“Long.” She leaned into me. “Lost a patient, a seventy-two-year-old woman, to a stroke, but I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m here if you change your mind, kitten.” I squeezed her shoulder. We’d learned, over five years and a lot of therapy, when to push and when to just be there for each other.
Cole was already making her a plate. He knew exactly how she liked to start the meal—labneh, lots of fresh pita, and a pile of vegetables practically falling off her plate.
The front door opened, and Alek walked in, already loosening his tie. He looked at the three of us, and his expression softened.
“You took too long.” Cole handed him a beer. “We got two mixed grills, though, so there’s plenty of protein.”
“Spasibo.” Alek set his briefcase down and joined us at the table.
For a few minutes, we ate in comfortable silence.
Eva dipped a torn piece of bread into her labneh then looked at Alek. “So? Did you tell them?”
His mouth curved—not quite a smile, but close. “I accepted the head coach position. I’ll start next season.”
“Holy shit!” I reached across the table to grip his forearm, and instead, he drew me in for a hard kiss on the mouth that left both of us breathless. “Congratulations,” I murmured against his lips.
We toasted him, and I watched Alek try not to look pleased at the recognition. He’d earned this—two years as assistant coach, and now two years as associate—mentoring, developing players, and proving he was more than just muscle for the bratva.
“Nikolai sent his congratulations,” Alek said. “Dmitri as well. They’re pleased with how my career’s progressed.”
“Speaking of family,” Eva said, pulling out her phone. “Dad called today. He wants to know if we’re going to Yorkfield for Easter.”
“He does realize Easter is in two weeks, right?” Cole raised an eyebrow.
“He’s excited.” Eva’s smile softened. “He’s five years sober, Tris. He’s doing so well. And he—” She bit her lip, trying not to grin. “He has a girlfriend. Her name is Margaret. She works at the community center where he volunteers.” Eva’s eyes were bright. “He wants us to meet her.”
“Then we’re going,” Alek said firmly. “We’ll make it work with the schedule.”
Eva looked at each of us, her expression vulnerable. “You’re sure? I know playoffs are starting, and Tris, you have that trip planned with Jordon—”
“We’re going,” I interrupted. “If your dad wants us there, we’ll be there.”
“What’s the plan?” I asked, already mentally rearranging my schedule.
“I have to work the early shift on Friday, but I’m off Saturday and Sunday.” Eva consulted her phone. “If we leave Friday night after your game, we could spend the whole weekend?”
I squeezed her hand. “We’ll make it work.”
She looked at me with those gorgeous green eyes, full of love and gratitude, and my throat closed with emotion.
“How’s your shift tomorrow?” Alek asked, changing the subject.
“Rounds at six a.m. I’m on until eight p.m.” She rubbed her eyes. “Then, I have to study. Boards are in two months, and I’m—”
“You’re going to be fucking brilliant,” Cole interrupted. “Like always.”
“You have two months. You’ll pass.” Alek reached over and tucked a loose curl behind her ear.
She leaned into his touch, eyes already drooping. “I only have a few hours before I have to be back at the hospital. I should sleep.”
“Or,” Cole said, his voice dropping to that tone that made her shiver, “you could celebrate with us first.”
Eva’s eyes snapped open, suddenly alert. “Celebrate?”
“Tristan got a hat trick.” Cole grinned at her. “That’s worth celebrating.”
“And Alek’s going to be a head coach.” She bit her lip, and I watched her exhaustion war with want. Want won. It always did with us.
She stood, swaying slightly—from exhaustion or anticipation, I couldn’t tell. Cole caught her, steadied her. She looked up at him with those gorgeous eyes and said, “Bedroom. Now.”
“So fucking bossy,” Cole said, but he was already moving, sweeping her into his arms.
Our bedroom was exactly what you’d expect from four people who couldn’t keep their hands off each other—a massive custom bed, blackout curtains, and never enough closet space.
Cole set Eva down gently on the bed.
She stretched and smiled and, fuck, I loved this woman so much. Alek wrapped his arms around my waist and dropped his chin on my shoulder as we watched Cole reverently strip our girl.
Silently, he pressed a kiss into the sensitive spot where my neck met my jaw. He lifted my sweatshirt over my head, and then my t-shirt, his calloused hands running over my muscles.
“Keep watching them,” he murmured when I turned to undress him. Oh, this was hot. Alek slid my sweatpants down my legs, his hands leaving fire in their wake, then gently lifted each foot, kissing the back of my knee.
Every muscle in my body ached, but as he kissed his way back up my legs, my ass, and my back, I sighed with pleasure and settled into his care. Alek and I typically bossed Eva and Cole around in bed, and I both hated and loved how he knew that wasn’t what I needed right now.
Cole had settled between Eva’s legs and dug into his favorite meal. “Already wet, sparrow? Already ready for us?”
Eva moaned her agreement as she writhed and whimpered, begging him for more.
When Alek stepped away from me, I moved to join them on the bed so I could slide in beside Eva and take her nipple into my mouth. Cole rose for a filthy, wet kiss and turned my head so I could taste her on his tongue. Fuck, I loved him too.
He nipped my bottom lip before descending again, only for Eva to tangle her fingers in his hair and whimper so fucking prettily.
Alek smacked me on the ass, and I looked at him with accusation. “I’m busy,” I snapped, even though I knew what he was asking for.
“Up, Eva,” I said, and she moaned. “C’mon, kitten, on your hands and knees.”
“You’re not gonna let me lie here and just let you play with me?” she teased.
“Brat,” Alek said with affection as she huffily rolled over and lifted herself up. I positioned myself at her mouth, Alek behind me.
Cole didn’t wait—just slid right into her. She moaned, and her eyes rolled back and then she closed them, her mouth open, waiting for me to fuck her throat.
Instead, I teased her lips, let her chase me with her tongue as Alek prepared me, first one finger, then two, then fuuuuuuuuccccckkkk.
“Color?” he murmured into my ear.
“Fuck me hard, Coach,” I said.