Epilogue
Logan
Two years later
The great thing about hockey—unlike basketball and football—is the mandatory three-day break around Christmas.
Before my biological family found me, before Sawyer, even with Chayton and his dad, the holiday season felt like something I needed to get through.
Despite all the songs and all the commercialization that told me otherwise, Christmas, for me, had never been joyous.
Now since Sawyer and I got married? Our house in Bellerive is the holiday hub.
My Uncle Brandon, his wife, Samantha, and their three kids have flown to Bellerive as soon as school lets out for the last two years.
Mary and Ernie have been on the same flight, and then Chayton, his wife, Summer, their daughter, and Chayton’s dad traditionally arrive on December twenty-third, if Chayton doesn’t have a game.
Their visit is always the shortest because Chayton is contracted to be back on the ice, usually, by December twenty-seventh.
With the addition of our first baby, a son, and almost all of Sawyer’s family coming to dinner tonight for Christmas Eve, I can’t help the stupid grin that feels permanently affixed to my face while I cut up some food for Zachary, who’s perched in the high chair, watching me with interest. At ten months old, I’m constantly amazed by the big and small ways he changes every day.
“It’s pretty great, isn’t it?” Brandon asks as he wanders into the kitchen, the first one up other than me and my son.
It’s wild how much I like thinking those words: my son. The idea that I wanted to wait longer to experience this endless well of love baffles me now.
“I guess every parent feels like this,” I admit. “But when it first hits you, it’s kind of unreal that you can love someone this much and the world can still, somehow, function.”
“I remember wanting to Bubble Wrap every inch of my kids before I sent them out into the world.”
“So that instinct calms down the older they get?” I ask, genuinely curious. Brandon has become more of an older and wiser brother or cousin than an uncle, but I’ve come to value his opinion.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Brandon says with a laugh. “Just becomes a bit different.”
Ernie and Mary wander into the kitchen next, and Ernie immediately goes to the blender to make a protein smoothie. Turns out, he tried to make me one on that first visit because they’re his favorite drink.
“Can you wave good morning to Grandma and Grandpa?” I ask Zachary, modeling the wave.
He grins and waves at Ernie and Mary, which is another thing I’m grateful for.
Having Zachary has made it even easier to incorporate Ernie and Mary into our lives.
They love having another grandchild to spoil, and while I’m also technically their grandchild, I think we’ve all had a tricky time navigating those lost years, the bond that’s there and yet not quite there all at the same time.
But I’m really happy that my kids are going to reap the benefits of these family connections.
Between Sawyer’s family and mine, they’ll never be alone in the world if they don’t want to be.
“Sawyer’s still sleeping?” Mary asks, no hint of judgment in her tone.
“Yeah,” I say, dropping the tiny pieces of egg and cooked veggies I’ve cut up onto Zachary’s high chair tray. “She’s sleeping in, and I’m just about to make her breakfast, and then I’ll take it up to her. Anyone else hungry?”
Brandon offers to help me cook, and Mary and Ernie slide into the seats at the island.
It doesn’t take long before the smell of bacon has Brandon’s three kids in the kitchen, followed shortly by Chayton’s dad who’s got his six-month-old granddaughter in his arms. The man’s never met a baby he didn’t love, and whenever he comes to visit Sawyer and me, it’s like having a nanny in the house.
Spoils us rotten with his time and attention.
The chatter and raised voices that echo throughout the kitchen as everyone catches up on what’s been happening in everyone’s life fills my soul.
When Zachary finishes eating, Mary jumps up to clean him and take him out of the high chair to sit on his play mat with some toys.
When he starts to crawl around, it’s Ernie who follows him from place to place.
Brandon and I are just plating breakfast and passing portions to everyone when Chayton, his wife, Summer, and Brandon’s wife, Samantha appear, already deep in conversation about something.
Once everyone is seated around the kitchen and living room, I sip from my coffee mug and take in the scene. We’re one of those Christmas-card scenes that I used to skim over in the stores, sure this picture didn’t truly exist for anyone.
“Who knew, right?” Chayton says from his seat at the island.
“Who knew what?” I ask.
“That it could all feel this good,” he says, glancing over his shoulder where his dad, Summer, Ernie, Mary, Brandon, Samantha, their three kids and our two babies are spread across the more formal dining room and into the living area.
The joy of a giant house is how everyone can seem close and far away at the same time.
“I feel pretty lucky,” I admit. “Now, I’m going to go sneak a few minutes with my wife.”
“You’re going to make me look bad, man,” Chayton says, with a little laugh. “Breakfast in bed?”
“Gotta spoil her while I can,” I say. “Prove myself to be the best husband around.”
I haul out a serving tray from the cabinet—the one I use whenever I take her breakfast in bed—and grab her plate and mine along with two coffees, and then I call out to the room, “I’ll be back.”
As I balance everything on the way up the stairs, I can hear the voices of my extended family in the background.
I set down the tray to open our bedroom door, and Sawyer is still sleeping. She works long hours with Zachary at her office to keep her clients happy and to give her space to travel with me from time to time. So whenever I get a chance to spoil her, I seize it with both hands.
“Rise and shine, doc,” I say as I walk over to the bed with the tray.
She stirs with a sleepy smile, and then she checks the clock and sits up with a start. “Oh my god. You let me sleep in? Everyone is going to think I’m so rude.”
“Aren’t you the one who told me that family doesn’t think that way?
” I say setting the large tray across her lap and crawling into bed beside her.
“They’re all busy catching up down there, watching the kids, enjoying each other’s company.
And now I get a few minutes alone with my wife.
” I take my plate and lean back to rest it on my stomach while I lift a piece of bacon to take a bite.
“You really don’t think anyone minds?”
“Only Chayton, who accused me of making him look bad.” I grin. “If he’s not going to take the best husband trophy this visit, I’ll gladly seize it.”
“I would complain,” she says, taking a bite of her eggs, “but this weird ‘who can be better to their wife’ competition you two have going is extremely beneficial.” She glances around. “Zachary?”
“Ernie and Mary.”
“I feel like I should have been up organizing,” she says.
“Catering arrives at noon to set up. Family starts arriving at two, and we’re eating at four. The house was cleaned through two days ago. What do you need to organize? I’ll do it.” I shovel a forkful of hash browns into my mouth.
“Maybe nothing?” she says with a helpless laugh. “The rush to get the house ready for everyone makes me feel like I still need to be rush-rush-rushing.”
“Nope,” I say. “It’s relax-lax-laxing time.”
She takes a bite of her toast and then leans back beside me in bed. I wiggle closer, and she tips her head to rest on my shoulder. Downstairs, laughter erupts loud enough to drift upstairs.
“Are we missing out?” she whispers.
“Give me one more minute,” I say, kissing the top of her head. “Because this right here is pretty great too.”
“I’d never want to imagine my life any other way.” Sawyer kisses my temple and lets out a contented sigh beside me.
From my first game in Bellerive, there was something about playing in front of this arena, this crowd that was magical.
But I have to say as I skate around in warm-up, the magic in this building is clear now.
My wife and our son are behind the bench with Chayton’s dad, and my extended family is in a private suite with almost all of Sawyer’s family.
Maybe some part of me knew that I’d finally arrived home.
That this island, this team, these family connections would give me a sense of belonging that I never thought I’d get.
Ever since I met Sawyer, I’ve felt pretty fucking lucky that this is my life, and for once that sense of rightness isn’t because I’m good on skates. It’s because of all the people I love out there cheering me on.
The game starts, and the new additions to the team over the last two years are finally starting to take shape.
The team is coming together in a way that’s exciting beyond the atmosphere in this building.
When we leave Bellerive now, people know us, they respect us.
We’re becoming a team worth taking seriously.
Auston, Radek, and I catch a break on a poor pass by the Nova Scotia Whales, and we shift the momentum into the opposition’s side of the arena, passing the puck with practiced efficiency.
As we get close to the net, Auston’s pass gets tipped by a defenseman, and I spin to pick the puck up with my stick, flicking it behind me on instinct.
I turn just in time to see it go into the net in the top corner.
Auston and Radek rush me, our defensemen hot on their heels.
Auston is laughing. “Only you,” he says, “could get a no-look goal off that mishandled puck.”
But we’re so good this year—all of us—that the play doesn’t feel that unusual. Some seasons, luck just seems to be on your side.
I’m the last one onto the bench, and as I step into the door, I do the move that’s become my signature after scoring.
I take off my glove and put my hand on the thick plexiglass.
Sawyer presses her hand to mine, and then Zachary presses his hand, looking from his mom to me and back again, as though he understands it’s a symbol for something, but hasn’t quite figured out what.
He’s been coming to games since he was six months old, but this is the first time he’s put his hand on the plexiglass alongside his mom.
I meet Sawyer’s gaze, and I’m sure her amazed expression is the same one on my face.
Warmth spreads across my chest in such a ferocious wave that I wish the plexiglass would disappear and I could hug them both.
I shift my hand, so it covers Zachary’s and he meets my gaze.
He grins, and I grin back in response. Then he sits back in Sawyer’s arms and tries to give her a sloppy kiss.
She laughs and then blows me a kiss. Chayton’s dad wraps his arm around her shoulders and gives her a squeeze, and she turns that beautiful smile on him too.
When I slide into the seat beside Auston, my body is buzzing, and it’s got nothing to do with the goal.
“It’s good, isn’t it?” Auston says, over the noise of the crowd. “To know that even when all this ends”—he throws his hand out to the arena, to the fanfare that’s still hyped over the goal—“you still have your family.”
I glance over my shoulder, and Sawyer and Zachary are still looking at me, Sawyer pointing at me and talking to Zachary about something. When she sees me looking, she waves, and Zachary waves too.
“Never thought I’d love anything or anyone as much as hockey,” I admit, “and I was so wrong. Sawyer and Zachary and whoever comes after him”—I gesture behind me—“is way more valuable, more fulfilling than anything I could ever do on this ice.”
“I don’t know,” Auston says. “That was a pretty impressive goal you got there.”
But I know. I know with everything in me that the family I’m building with Sawyer will always be the most important aspect of my life from now until the day I die.
Being this sure about Sawyer when I’m this young, maybe it makes up for all the years I felt alone, because what I’m forming with her, with my extended family, means I’ll never be truly alone again.
I glance at her again over my shoulder just before I go out on the ice again, and the glow that lives inside me flares again. Above the arena in the suite, Brandon, Samantha, their kids, the royals, and all of Sawyer’s family are visible near the glass, clearly enthralled with the game.
When it counted the most, I made the right choices.
Auston pats me on the back before we go over the boards for shift change. “Let’s go pave our way to a cup,” he says.
And maybe we’ll win one, but that’ll just be sprinkles on top of a cake that’s already thick with icing.