Epilogue #2
I’m too stunned to speak, my thoughts looping as I stare out over the rink.
Dee manages to calm herself down. “Oh, look, our men,” she says.
I follow her gaze and locate them in the distance: Cal, Dylan, Torin, a couple of others huddled in a corner, deep in talk.
Torin has his arms crossed, relaxed but confident as always, Cal buzzing as usual.
And Dylan, he’s smiling. The knot of guilt in my stomach unwinds instantly.
I guess he doesn’t need saving after all.
The noise picks up again, and before I know it, Harper and the other skaters are gliding right past us, not a dirty look in sight.
Of course not. Dylan made one thing very clear: that kind of behavior is not tolerated in his rink.
One strike, and she’s out. The minute he bought the rink, he cut ties with Harper’s father as a sponsor without so much as batting an eye, tired of being forced to smile and play nice in exchange for sponsorship dollars.
Harper quickly discovered she didn’t run this place anymore.
Dee’s smile drops into a resting bitch face. “Is that the girl who—”
“Yup,” I softly interject, resting my hand on her arm. “But you don’t need to give her the evil eye. I think she’s learned her lesson.”
“Hey, I’m always gonna have you, girl.” She nudges my shoulder. “Oh! Oh, I finished reading your manuscript last night.”
My heart skips a beat. “You did?”
“It was so good. I couldn’t put it down,” she says without hesitation. “And the title, The One Year Rule, is clever.”
Blushing, I giggle shyly. “Yeah, I thought it was a good fit. A woman who doesn’t want to fall in love with any man for an entire year . . . Ring any bells?”
“Hmm. Yeah. Just a little. So are you going to give your grandpa a copy once it’s published?”
“Uhh, no.” I pause for a second. “I don’t think he would understand a book about a woman falling in love with two men and experiencing double penetration.” I say the last part in a lowered voice, making sure the old couple next to us can’t hear.
“Yeah, I didn’t think of that. Probably wise not to.” We chuckle at the idea. “So,” she says after a moment, her voice softening, “how is your grandpa?”
My chest constricts immediately; each time he’s mentioned, it happens. It has been more than a month since he last remembered who I was, since he last lit up in my presence. The pain will always be fresh and raw, like a bruise that never fully heals, but I don’t want to poke at it, not right now.
“He’s okay,” I say lightly, forcing the words out. “Keeps bird-watching.”
It’s a lie, and we both know it. Dee doesn’t call me out on it. She just smiles knowingly and helps move the conversation along, as if she’s stashing my pain away in some safe place.
“Oh, by the way, you left two boxes at mine,” she says. “I can’t believe you moved out and left me.”
“I couldn’t live with you forever.”
“Who else am I gonna have midnight gossip sessions with?”
“I only live five minutes away. I’ll still come round for our sessions, promise.”
She smiles. “As long as you promise. I’ll get Cal to drop the boxes off later.”
“Thanks, Dee.” Hesitating, I turn to really look at her. My chest swells with emotion, gratitude pressing at my ribs. “Also . . . thank you,” I murmur. “For being such a good friend. For always having my back, no matter what.”
She can’t hide the way her mouth curves into a soft smile, the kind that gives her away every time.
“Ugh, same back to you, Fawn. I wouldn’t know what to do without you now, girlie.
” Her voice turns lighter, like she’s deliberately keeping it that way, so we don’t both crack open right here in the middle of the rink.
I don’t say anything else. I don’t need to. The look we share says enough — I’m here. I’ll always be here.
A deep voice suddenly rolls through the speakers, smooth and confident, and my heart does a small, stupid flip the second I recognize it. “The event will begin in five minutes. Please take your seats.”
It’s Torin. He sounds professional and confident, like it’s second nature to him. I glance around at the people beginning to find their seats, hearing hushed whispers of excitement.
Delilah rubs her hands together. “Ooooh,” she says, eyes lighting up. “This is gonna be good.”
I nod, my gaze drifting instinctively toward the ice. “Yeah, it will,” I tell her, warmth curling through every word.
****
Dylan
Okay, I need to fucking breathe.
Torin’s got someone to handle the lights and the music. The rink’s sound system has been tested. The team’s geared up and ready to go. Volunteers are in place, and everything is ready.
Fuck, maybe I forgot something?
Yes. No.
Ah, crap.
Simply fucking put, there’s too much going on. Sweat, men’s cologne, and nerves fill the air, making the locker room feel smaller than ever. My footsteps sound like they’re counting down to something as I begin to pace back and forth.
All I want is to make my mom proud. That’s all. Besides Fawn and Torin, she is the reason for every choice I make. I bought the rink with the money she left me because I know she would have wanted me to. Fuck, I really hope I did the right thing.
What if the event is one big fucking fail? What if people hate it?
I run my fingers through my hair as if I could physically remove the fear from my mind. I’m getting all flustered, heat creeping up my neck. I take a moment to stop, stand still, and squeeze my eyes shut. Right now, my mom would tell me to calm down and have faith in myself.
“You’ve got this, Captain,” comes Cal’s voice.
It snaps me out of the chaos in my head.
My eyes shoot open, looking at him, and then I glance past his shoulder.
The whole team is there, helmets under their arms, faces relaxed.
They’re smiling at me as if they believe it, like they believe in me, and in that split second, something clicks. He’s right.
I’ve put my heart, my money, and my grief into this place. I’ve pushed the team to work harder, supported them more, given them something to be proud of again. This isn’t just my mom’s legacy; it’s mine too.
My new confidence fills me, warm and steady, taking the place of the nerves that were eating me up just moments ago. I raise my hand, and Cal gives me a strong high-five.
“Thanks, dude,” I say.
Before I can say another word, a huge wolf mascot strides over to us, chest out, moving with heavy strides. I know that walk right away. “Hello, Torin,” I call out, grinning.
He freezes then sighs dramatically. “How the fuck did you know it was me?”
“The walk,” I say, deadpan. “So, what made you come around to the mascot idea?”
“Well, you said you’d pay me a hundred bucks, and if I’m dancing on the ice, I don’t want anyone knowing it’s me. So, Wesley the Wolf is making an appearance.”
“Ah, crap. I forgot about that bet,” I chuckle, shaking my head.
While the team jokes among themselves, I take the opportunity to quickly pull Torin around the corner. “Take off the damn wolf’s head,” I mutter. “I can’t talk to you when you look like something from Twilight.”
He does, lifting the mascot head and balancing it against his hip. His dark eyes lock onto mine. I want to avert my eyes somewhere else, but I can’t, not when I’m about to say something heartfelt.
“I just wanted to say something . . . away from everyone.” My voice is rougher than I mean it to be. I pause then exhale. “Thank you. Even when I was at my darkest, when I didn’t think I’d make it through, you were there. You never left.”
He tries to swallow the emotion, but his face goes soft. “You were there for me too, Dylan. I’m here and alive because of you, and I’ll always love you for it.”
I pull him into a quick, solid hug. “I’ll always love you too, dude.”
He gives a single, stiff nod and then places one of his faux paws on my shoulder. “Alright, that’s enough. Don’t get me all emotional. Wolves don’t cry . . . they howl. You should know that.”
We trade one last grinning look, the tension finally breaking as head back to the team. When we round the corner, everyone is just standing there, smiling at me, and in that moment, I realize it — everything has worked out.
Once Coach Richards left, the owner decided to sell, and somehow, that twist of fate led me here, to this very spot, as the new owner.
And even though Torin is a stubborn jackass, the entire team and I cornered him, voting him as the new coach because we felt he was exactly what we needed — someone who would keep us in line yet secretly has a good heart.
Pride swells in my chest as I take it all in. For the first time in a long while, I don’t feel like I’m waiting for something to go wrong. I couldn’t be happier.
I clap and holler, making sure everyone can hear me. “Right, Wolves! Listen up! Let’s get moving and put on a good show.”
The doors swing open, and cold air rushes in as we make our way toward the ice. The roar of the crowd hits us right away: cheers, clapping, and the steady hum of Ivywood packed into every seat. My chest swells as I pat each player on the back, watching them glide onto the ice, confident and ready.
As I follow them out, my eyes scan the crowd to find her. My beautiful princess — Fawn.
She’s sitting there, looking beautiful as ever, her hair tumbling over her shoulders, glowing under the lights like she always does. It feels as if the world softens as our eyes meet, everything else disappearing for a moment: the noise, the pressure, the expectations.
Torin glides up to me in full mascot glory, the wolf head bobbing. Gently, he hands me a microphone, his voice low enough that only I can hear him. “I’ll be right here if you need me. Good luck, buddy.”
With a deep breath, I take the mic and feel a sudden lump in my throat. Why am I nervous? Fuck! I’ve danced drunk on top of bars in front of audiences much wilder than this.
But this truly matters. This is my rink, my team, and it’s for my mom.