Epilogue Clark
June
The Stanley Cup sits in the back of my Jeep, secure, but I’d be lying if I denied that I feel like I’m making a getaway with stolen goods—its chaperone follows me in a sleek sedan to protect the trophy and ensure that it’s handled properly.
Yet we won it fair and square and today is my day to spend with it.
The Nebraska Knights are Stanley Cup Champions. I can practically still feel the confetti raining down from the arena ceiling. Glimpse Coach Badaszek’s rare smile. The entire team dog-piling on the ice. The weight of the Cup in my hands as I lifted it over my head while the crowd roared.
But that’s not why I’m grinning as I navigate through Cobbiton’s morning traffic.
I’m grinning because today is The Barkery’s grand opening, and I’m about to ask April Hansen to marry me.
“Ready?” I ask Moose, who’s riding shotgun. He tilts his massive head and pants in what I choose to interpret as an affirmative.
I bought the engagement ring the day after we got back from Kansas City, right after we stopped being Dumb and Dumber (these are April’s words after I made her watch the movie by the same name), then admitted that we loved each other.
It’s elegant with a center stone surrounded by smaller diamonds, delicate but substantial. Like April herself.
Also, it’s huge. I think her mother would approve.
I stop to pick up balloons—adding yet more chaos to the interior of the Jeep.
My phone buzzes with a text from my oldest friend, but not my best friend—April holds that title, along with beloved, floof wrangler, girlfriend, hopefully soon to be fiancée, and the one woman in the world who can make me splooch inside.
Whitaker: Are you nervous?
Me: As nervous as that dream I used to have about showing up to school with my underwear on the outside of my pants.
Whitaker: Good. That means you’re not completely stupid. You got the ring?
Me: In my pocket. Along with backup plans B through F.
Whitaker: What’s plan F?
Me: Wing it and hope the dogs distract everyone if I mess up.
Whitaker: Solid strategy. See you there.
After I get back on the road, I pull up to The Barkery—our Barkery, since I invested as a full business partner last month, so April could expand it to include not only the bakery and training center, but the “Paw Spa,” an extension for doggy grooming when an adjacent space opened.
My chest swells with pride. The storefront is transformed with more silver and lavender balloons, a massive GRAND OPENING banner, and what looks like half of Cobbiton already gathering on Main Street.
The entire Knights team helped with the industrial-chic, dog-friendly build-out, supervised by Mikey’s family’s crew, just like they did for Fletch and Bree’s Victorian house and Juniper’s salon. Even Whitaker showed up to help paint.
It’s more than a building now. It’s a community project. A labor of love.
Inside, April is probably overthinking, organizing things that don’t need organizing, checking lists she’s already checked three times.
She’s been up since five a.m., too nervous and excited to sleep—I only know this because she showed up at my place to walk the dogs at dawn, even though I assured her I’d do it.
I let myself in through the back entrance, and sure enough, I find her in the training area, adjusting agility equipment that’s already perfectly positioned for the demonstration later.
“Hello,” I say softly.
She spins around, and even stressed and nervous, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her curls are tucked behind her ears, she’s wearing a sundress and sneakers, and her eyes are as big and bright as ever.
“Clark! I thought you were bringing the Stanley Cup?”
“It’s in the Jeep and under heavy guard.”
“The dogs?”
They troop in as I pull her into my arms. “How are you doing?”
“So excited, I might barf.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Exactly how I feel before I hit the ice. Every. Single. Time.”
“Is that normal?”
I chuckle, “I think so. April, this place is incredible. You’re incredible. This is going to be the best day.”
She leans into me, and some of the tension siphons out of her shoulders. She looks up at me through her long lashes. “We’ve got this?”
“We’ve got this,” I confirm.
She pulls back and the dimple in her right cheek appears—the smile she saves just for me.
“I love you,” she says.
“I love you too. Now come on. We have a grand opening to win.”
She laughs and I help her finish getting ready, including displaying the Stanley Cup—this is hockey town and while some of the guys said they want to take it to the spa, bring it out for dinner, or host a parade, I want it to be at the Barkery with what I love more than Hockey—April.
By ten a.m., Main Street is packed. The entire Knights team showed up in full force—some with wives and kids, others with dates, all wearing Barkery t-shirts that April had made.
Liam, Jack, and Hayden post up around the Cup.
Margo and the WAGs transformed the street front into an overflow party.
The Busy Bee provides catering, and the Milk Mustache truck is parked outside, serving specialty cookies with paw prints on them.
My parents flew in from Oregon with Claudia and the twins. Even April’s sister, Elise, made it, though her parents—predictably—didn’t. April handled the news with grace, but I saw the flicker of hurt in her eyes before she covered it with determination.
The Love at First Wag campaign coordinator, Sandra, set up an adoption station in the courtyard adjacent to the building with a dozen dogs and cats looking for homes. Even Abigail from Channel Nine is here with her cameraman, catching it live.
“This is amazing,” April says as everyone gathers.
“You did an amazing job.”
Just before the official ribbon cutting, I catch Whitaker’s eye across the crowd. He nods once and taps his nose—our signal.
“Ready?” April asks, holding the oversized scissors.
“One second. I need to get something.”
I disappear before she can question it and return, leading a parade down Main Street. All five of our dogs—Moose, Scout, Buster, Purdy, and Lulu—plus Ranger, Bark Wahlburger, Baloo, and every other WAG dog wearing “Furever Family” bandanas.
Behind them, Mikey and Liam are carefully carrying the Stanley Cup.
The crowd goes absolutely wild.
April’s hand flies to her mouth. “Clark Culpepper, what are you doing?”
“Grand opening parade. Only the best for The Barkery.” I hand her Lulu’s leash. “Plus, I figured if the Stanley Cup can visit bars and pools and random fishing holes, it can definitely visit the best dog bakery in Nebraska.”
She’s laughing and crying and hugging me while dogs bark and people cheer and someone—probably Aunt Louise—is definitely filming this for social media.
Purdy yaps and a husky-lab mix pokes her head out of the pack.
“Oh, look. I think one of the puppers escaped from the adoption area,” April says, crouching down.
Whitaker’s smile glints in the sunlight as everything goes to plan.
“Oh, wait. It looks like she has a collar.” April fiddles with the tags and then goes very still. She glances over her shoulder. “The tag says her name is Blossom.”
I nod slowly, wondering how long it will take her to understand what’s happening. “Today has been perfect, well, except for one thing.”
“What’s that?” Whitaker calls.
This is it. The moment I’ve been planning for weeks.
“Hey, April?”
“Hmm?”
“Where does this belong?”
She looks confused. “Where does what belong?” She looks from the dog to me.
I drop to one knee and point to the engagement ring attached to the dog’s collar.
April’s breath catches and her eyes go wide.
“This. Us. Where do we belong?”
“Clark—?”
“I’ve been asking myself this question for ten years.
Where does April Hansen belong in my life?
Friend? Best friend? Something more?” I remove the ring from Blossom’s collar and it catches the light.
“Turns out, the answer was always the same. You belong with me. Forever. As my partner. My best friend. My wife.”
Tears drift down her face, both hands over her mouth.
I present the ring. “April Hansen, will you marry me?”
“Yes!” She practically tackles me, and we both laugh as I catch her. “Yes, yes, yes!”
I slip the ring on her finger—perfect fit, thank goodness—and kiss her while our audience cheers.
When we finally break apart, she plants a kiss on my lips. And then again and again. I count them—ten, maybe one for each year we denied our feelings for each other.
She adjusts the engagement ring on her finger. “It’s beautiful.”
I smooth a piece of hair behind her ear and whisper, “Not as beautiful as you.”
Mom is crying. Dad is grinning. Claudia wolf-whistles. The twins are making gagging noises. The WAGs are already planning the wedding. Coach Badaszek nods approvingly from his spot near the Stanley Cup.
And April—my fiancée—is radiant as she finally cuts the ribbon for the Barkery.
Later, after the crowds thin and the dogs are exhausted and the last adoption paperwork is signed, April and I stand in the middle of The Barkery surrounded by the remnants of the best day of our lives, along with our pack—six dogs now. Enough to populate a hockey team.
“We did it,” she says softly.
“You did it. This was your dream.”
“Our dream now.”
I pull her close. “So what do you think of becoming Mrs. Culpepper?”
“I think it has a nice ring to it.” She holds up her hand, admiring the actual ring. “Literally.”
“Terrible pun.”
“You love my terrible puns.”
“I love everything about you.”
“And what about Mr. Finch and your sister? Do you think they can bridge that gap? I saw them talking earlier instead of fighting like cats and dogs.”
“I say that was unexpected and wonder if my mom saw it coming.” I’ll have to ask her.
April laughs.
Outside, we prepare to take the dogs home. The June evening is warm and perfect. The irises and daffodils from spring have given way to summer blooms. Everything is growing, thriving, alive.
Including us.
She tilts her face up for a kiss, and I oblige because I’m a gentleman and because I plan to kiss this woman every day for the rest of my life.
Ten years ago, I was a scrappy kid daydreaming about becoming a pro hockey player and panicking about my lost golden retriever.
Then I met April.
Today, I’m a Stanley Cup champion, a business owner, and engaged to my best friend.
She looks up at me and says, “Never mind a pinch me kind of day, this is a pinch me kind of life.”
“How’d we get so lucky?”
“When we started being honest with ourselves and with each other.”
She’s right, and from now on, I can’t stop. Won’t stop—giving this woman my heart, my everything.
If you want more hockey hugs in book form, be sure to check out the other books in the Nebraska Knights Holiday Hockey romance series. These are shorter in length and focused on the team, true love, and the holidays.
There is also the Love in Hockey Town series—full-length romantic comedies, set in Cobbiton with happily ever afters.
Also, I have two books featuring the Ice Breakers, set in the small town of Maple Falls in a multi-author series.
Get your hockey romcom fix with closed-door content, open hearts, and all the feels!