Epilogue
Minerva
“Holy shit, you guys.” Knova turns on the spot, admiring the open floor plan of our new house. “This is amazing.”
“You have a pool!” Viktor points to the backyard, which is visible through the large doors on the far side of the dining room. “I want a pool. Knova, why don’t we have a pool?”
“Your parents have a pool,” Knova reminds him.
“Yeah, a normal one! Why does Tristan get saltwater?” Viktor presses his face against the glass like a puppy watching all of its friends run through the grass outside.
Knova rubs her forehead. “Because he bought one, baby.” She rolls her eyes toward the heavens for a moment before turning to me. “Is it weird living here? Like…so grown up. Do you miss the condo?”
Tristan shrugs. “The condo didn’t have a pool.”
Viktor lets out a pathetic whine.
“I have my own lab in the house,” I add. “It’s fantastic. No regrets.”
Tristan wraps his arm around my waist. “And Kepler and Curie have their own habitat outside the house.”
Curie noses sleepily against Kepler’s side, her white-tipped tail twitching.
Tristan surprised me with her the night after the conference keynote—“a lab partner for your lab rat,” he’d said, holding out a sleepy baby ferret like the world’s most chaotic bouquet.
I cried for twenty minutes. She wasn’t a replacement for anything.
She was proof that good things keep showing up now.
At the moment, the ferrets are sacked out in their indoor play space. It’s the same one he built for the condo, though he’s made a few modifications. I don’t like to leave them outside unsupervised, for obvious reasons.
At least Kepler’s more comfortable around people now. He and his girlfriend are splayed out on their bed, limbs akimbo, wrapped around each other like a couple of happy noodles.
“Aw.” Viktor squats down in front of the habitat. “Did you know their ferrets have matching bowties? Knova. Babe.”
Knova crosses her arms. “Absolutely not.”
“What if…?”
“What do you think Savage would do with a ferret?”
“Right.” Viktor straightens up. “We should get a dog instead.”
“Not in the condo.” Knova turns to me. “Can I help you carry anything out?”
We spend the next half hour setting up tables and laying out food.
Friends trickle in: Marley, who still refuses to bring her partner to team events; Violet and Bowen, who instructed me not to open their housewarming present of a physio ball until Tristan and I are alone, for some reason; Camden and Dot, along with their gorgeous baby, Delilah, who brought a gift basket brimming with ferret treats; Sophia and Knight, who provided a platter of the legendary cannolis made at the Puck Drop; Coach Ranger, who’s taken it easy this season since he’s still recovering from an accident the year before; Coach Metcalfe, his wife Viv; Viv and Viktor’s parents, Molly and Noah, the latter of whom is also a coach; plus Briggs Sawyer and his wife Layla, who also happen to be Violet and Lenyx’s parents.
He’s also the head of player acquisitions.
It’s strange to have a house full of people, none of whom are related to me by blood—especially in a group that’s so, shall we say, close-knit.
This seems like the kind of event our families would attend.
But that’s the thing I still can’t get over—this is my family.
Loud, inappropriate, snack-carrying, emotionally constipated, wildly loyal.
People who show up because they want to.
Not because they want to manage me, shape me, or auction me off.
Tristan’s family is the best, but they couldn’t make it from Canada on short notice, and mine… well, obviously, mine will never be here.
A soft knock sounds at the front door before I can chase the thought away. I’m not expecting anyone else, and Tristan’s already in the kitchen. Curious, I slip away from the noise and open it.
A delivery driver stands there holding a massive bouquet of white lilies and soft green eucalyptus. Elegant. Expensive. Not Tristan’s style. Not anyone’s here.
“For Minerva Marino?” he asks.
My stomach dips. “Yes.”
He hands over the arrangement and leaves before I can ask who sent it. There’s a small envelope tucked between the stems. My name is written in my mother’s sweeping handwriting.
My breath snags.
Stepping back inside, I close the door quietly so none of the chaos behind me spills into this strange, fragile moment.
I open the envelope.
Minerva,
You were right to leave when you did. You’re so brave, braver than I ever was. I’m sorry I didn’t stand up for you until that day. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you. I hope this new life you’re building is kind to you. You deserve that and more.
If there ever comes a day when we might be able to find our way back to each other, if forgiveness is even a sliver of possibility, my door is open.
—Mama
The words blur for a second. I set the note against the flowers, steadying myself. It doesn’t fix everything. It doesn’t erase the years she stood by and let my father’s control eclipse everything else. But it’s… something.
A crack in the wall I thought was sealed shut.
Tristan’s laughter carries from the kitchen, warm and familiar. I take a breath, tuck the note back into the bouquet, and head toward the noise—toward the family I chose.
I sip a glass of wine, lost in thoughts about my mother, until someone taps my elbow. I turn to see Dante, who opens his arms wide. “Congratulations on the new house, cupcake!”
“Where did you come from? I didn’t see you arrive!” I wrap my arms around my godfather and lean into him. He gives surprisingly good hugs.
Julie’s right behind him with a hug of her own. “You look great, honey.” She, too, gives me a loving squeeze.
I hang on for a beat longer than is probably polite, nostalgia overwhelming the moment.
Memories rush through me. Good ones. Before my father became more powerful and everything unraveled.
It frustrates me to continue to crave something I know I’ll never have, but at least I have Dante to fill that need for approval.
When I finally release her, Julie kisses my cheeks.
Dante leans in, lowering his voice to that conspiratorial growl he saves for “family business.”
“Remember what I told you before about Luca Bianchi, cupcake. Let’s just say I took him to a nice farm upstate. Plenty of room to run… and nobody ever hears from him again.”
I stare into his eyes until we both blink. “Thank you… I think?”
“Do you think Cannoli and Calamari would like matching jerseys?” Dante announces. “I can totally make that happen.”
Julie gives me one last smile before following him off to the living room.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. When I glance down, I see “Dubois Family” flash across the screen with a cluster of Canadian flag emojis.
“Min! Put us on speaker!” Tristan’s mom calls the second I answer. His sisters crowd into the frame, already teary-eyed.
“Show us the house! Show us our girl!” Maria demands.
Tristan takes the phone and angles the camera toward me. “She’s right here, Maman.”
His mother clasps her hand to her heart. “You look happy, Minerva.”
And I am. God, I am.
Ellie waves wildly. “We heard you’re working with the WHL! You’re famous!”
“Totally,” Jules adds.
Tristan grins, tugging me against him. “Told you she was a genius.”
My heart squeezes. I belong to someone’s family. Not by blood. By choice. By love.
We chat for a while, then I let Tristan say goodbye. I refill my glass and meander back into the kitchen with Tristan trailing after me. Knova, Viktor, Dot, Camden, and Coach Abbott are there.
“What did we miss?” I ask.
Viktor holds out his phone with the screen pointed toward me. “We’re getting a dog!”
“Oh.” I blink at him. “But didn’t Knova say…?”
Knova lifts her wine glass in a toast to me. “Good to know that someone listens.”
“Our realtor just called. Our offer was accepted. We’re getting a house!”
Knova, midway through a sip of her sauvignon blanc, chokes and sputters. “Which offer?”
“The one we made in our parents’ old neighborhood. Isn’t that great?” He thumps Camden’s back a few times. “We’re gonna be neighbors. And we’re getting our own pool!”
“That’s great, sweetie.” Viktor’s mom, Molly, clasps her hands under her chin.
Knova blots her spilled wine. “Seriously? I only agreed to the offer because I never thought it would be accepted.”
Viktor pouts. “I thought you’d love it!”
“I will love it. You’re going to hate it.”
Viktor turns his entreaty toward his parents. “What’s to hate? We grew up in that neighborhood. We love it there.”
Knova immediately starts ticking things off on his fingers. “My dad will become obsessed with our lawn, too. You’ll need to learn how to maintain a pool. And there will be no sex outside. Not with our parents three doors down.”
Molly cackles at the last point, but Noah holds up his hands and backs away. “I’m out.” He turns and almost walks smack into Dante, who has brought Briggs to the kitchen with him.
“You’re leaving?” Dante asks. “I just arrived.”
Noah lets out a world-weary sigh. “Trust me, with these conversations, you’ll be leaving soon, too.” He makes a break for freedom. Molly follows at a more leisurely pace.
“Okay, who scared off Abbott?” Dante looks around the circle of us. As soon as his eyes land on Knova, he nods. “Never mind. Mystery solved.”
Knova laughs, but doesn’t disagree.
Dante sidles up to Tristan’s other side. “Dubois, nice place. Of course, you can afford it, since your agent re-negotiated that contract. But what can I say? You’re worth it. Your playing has never been better. And I’ll pay top dollar to get the magic back.”
Sergio, who must have arrived with his parents, stops in the doorway. “Wait. I didn’t approve any contract extensions. Mom!”
Dante tuts at his son’s dramatics and follows him back out of the kitchen, presumably to run damage control.
Camden picks at the label on his beer bottle, which is coming loose with its cold sweat. “You think Sergio will ever figure out he’s more of a figurehead than an actual COO?”
Tristan shakes his head. “He hasn’t yet.”
I bob my head in agreement. “Current trends predict an ongoing lack of self-awareness and denial.”
Tristan smiles fondly down at me. “Nerd.”
I smile back. Because now, when I look at him, I don’t see danger. I don’t see expectations. I see the man who built me a home.
And a ferret kingdom.
And a life.
Every carefully labeled cabinet, every ferret-safe plant, every night he turns on the lamp because he knows I hate coming into a dark room — that’s the place I’ve learned to recognize. The one I get to choose, every day, without fear of it being taken away.
Later tonight, when everyone’s gone and the house is quiet except for ferret feet skittering in their tunnel system, I’m going to hang a new whiteboard in my lab. Not for tracking danger or escape routes. Not color-coded for survival.
Just a list of things I get to want now.
At the top:
1. This life.
2. This love.
3. This future—ours.
###
Thanks for taking the journey with Tristan and Minerva. Their story is one of survival, softness, and choosing love when the world has taught you not to trust it—and I hope it hit you right in the chest.
And if you’re not ready to leave the Vegas Venom just yet…
If you’re craving another emotional gut-punch wrapped in found family, heat, and high stakes…
If you want a hero who doesn’t say much—but feels everything…
Then you’re ready for what comes next.
Meet Owen.
The Venom’s quiet, unshakeable goalie.
The man who guards his crease like it’s sacred ground.
The one who never looks for trouble… but won’t back down when lines are crossed.
One viral clip.
One misunderstood moment.
And suddenly, the story being told about him isn’t the truth.
Enter Remy.
The team’s socially fluent, razor-smart fixer.
Brought in to protect the narrative.
To smooth the edges.
To make sure the league doesn’t decide who Owen is before anyone actually knows him.
She lives in a world of optics, people, and spin.
He lives by instinct, boundaries, and silence.
They were never supposed to collide.
But when the pressure mounts—and the line between perception and reality starts to blur—Owen will have to decide whether to retreat into the quiet that’s always kept him safe… or trust the one woman willing to stand beside him when the whole world is watching.
Bluffs & Brawls is a story about being misread. About protecting what’s yours.
About a man who only reacts when his boundaries are crossed… and the woman who sees the truth behind the noise.
The crease is sacred. The stakes are high. And love doesn’t always arrive quietly.