Epilogue
Amelia, three years later
“Welcome to the Girls in Hockey holiday camp,” I say to the group of girls surrounding me.
“I’m so glad you all are joining us this week.
We have a lot of surprises for you, including meet-and-greet opportunities to hang out with some very cool women in the sports world.
At the end of camp, we’re hosting a scrimmage that your family and friends can come and watch.
Each of you will get a custom jersey, and our fearless goalies will have specially designed masks. ”
The older girls whisper their excitement while the younger campers blink at me with wide eyes and gear that barely fits their small frames.
Their hesitation transports me back to when I was a kid.
There’s the flash of a rink full of boys and me with my pink helmet.
I see the kind coach who helped me fix my feet so I wouldn’t be unsteady.
I hope he’s proud of how far I’ve come.
“You can call me Coach Green or Coach Amelia.” I smile. “Let’s go around and introduce ourselves so everyone can put names with faces.”
The repeat campers help the shyer ones, and it takes us twenty minutes to get through all one hundred and fifty kids.
It’s an ambitious undertaking, but strength in numbers is more important now than it’s ever been.
Young girls need positive representation in the media they consume, and I’m doing everything in my power to make the sport more accessible to a wider group of people.
“Thanks, everyone. We’re going to keep the day rolling by splitting into four groups.
Let’s count off, and make sure to remember your numbers,” I announce, realizing Emmy isn’t here.
She’s my second in command this week, and I need to text her when we get going to check in.
“The first group will stand down here. The rest will wait against the boards, and we’ll switch after a couple rotations. ”
It takes corralling and guidance from the assistant coaches, but we get there eventually. The first thirty-seven kids take their positions, and I move to the logo at center ice.
“Up first is a drill where we practice a stationary stop. You’ll start at the blue line and skate toward the opposite goal as fast as you can.
When you get to the other end of the ice, you’re going to plant one foot in front of the other and bend your knees to form an L shape.
Bodies upright, gravity centered. This will help us focus on proper technique before we dive into stickhandling with a puck.
” I blow my whistle with a grin. “Let’s get started. ”
Nobody moves.
The girls whisper to each other. There are giggles. A couple of quiet shhhs, and I’m confused.
“What’s going on?” I ask. “Do we need new equipment? I have some spare skates ready.”
“There’s someone here for you, Coach,” one of my assistants says.
Noise comes from the tunnel that leads to the locker room, and I glance over my shoulder. A group walks toward me, and when they split down the middle, Grant is there in his favorite sneakers and a pair of frayed jeans. His hair is messy, and the white USA jersey he’s wearing must be new.
My heart leaps to my throat when he tosses me a bright grin.
Around him are some of my favorite people: Maverick, Emmy, and Murphy. Lexi and Riley. Piper and Liam, who almost looks happy to be here. Hudson, Madeline, and Lucy. Ethan and a plate of hot dogs. Sienna and Lainey bring up the rear, and it hits me how big my family has become.
I can’t believe I get to go through life with such incredible friends.
“Hey,” Emmy calls out.
The younger campers squeal when they spot the redhead. The teenagers gawk at the guys, and one bursts into tears when Liam gives her goalie stick a tap with his foot.
“You’re late, Hartwell. But I’ll let it slide.” I tip my head when she smirks. “We’re about to start our first round of drills. Are you all planning to join?”
“We’re here for something else.”
“You are?” I turn to my assistants who don’t look fazed by the interruption. “Will someone tell me what’s going on?”
“Hi, Lia,” Grant says. He walks my way and holds up a gift bag. “I come bearing a present that’s time sensitive.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“You. It’s always a good day to celebrate you.”
I don’t know what he means, but I do know it’s not a proposal.
We’ve talked about our future countless times, and we’re happy exactly how we are. No children, no rings. The two of us work to be the best in our careers while loving each other fiercely, and I wouldn’t change a thing.
Still, anticipation pulses through me as I pluck a piece of tissue paper from the bag. I pull out a USA jersey that matches the one Grant is wearing, and I frown.
“Are you giving me your jersey?” I ask. “I have two at home.”
“Turn it around,” he says.
I hold it up so I can look at the back. My college number sits in the middle, but that’s not what catches me by surprise. Green is stitched across the shoulders, and my breath tangles in my chest.
“I haven’t worn a jersey with my name on it in years,” I say.
“I know, and this one is even more special. The Olympic roster was announced an hour ago,” Grant says. “Congratulations on being named the head coach of the men’s team, Lia.”
One minute, my feet are on the ground. The next, he’s scooping me in his arms. Spinning me around while a choked sob escapes my lungs. I melt into him, his arms warm and steady while a swarm of emotions hit me square in the chest.
Olympics.
Coach.
A gold medal.
I’m proud of everything I’ve accomplished in my career—the Frozen Four wins, multiple Stanley Cups, the groundwork for more women to enter the league in coaching roles—but this is the most special. The milestone I never knew was obtainable is now mine.
“This can’t be real life,” I say into the crook of Grant’s neck. “You’re not joking, are you?”
“I’d never do that.” Grant sets me down. He brushes a tear away from my cheek and lets out a strangled breath. My bottom lip quivers when I see his own watery eyes. “There’s one more thing.”
“What else could there possibly be?”
He squeezes my hand then spins, showing off the jersey he’s wearing.
It doesn’t say Everett on the back like I thought it would. Instead, Mr. Green is embroidered across his shoulders, and my fingers tremble when I trace each letter.
“I declined my roster invitation,” Grant says.
“Why would you ever do that?” I ask, and he faces me again.
“This is your moment. The media coverage at the Games should be on the glass ceilings you’re breaking, not our relationship.
I don’t want people to call you Grant Everett’s girlfriend.
I want them to call you Amelia Green, the first woman to coach the men’s team and take them to the gold medal game. And win.”
“I’ve been dreaming about this moment since I signed my first coaching contract.
It’s even better than I imagined, and I’m completely overwhelmed.
” I sniff and try to wipe the tears from my cheeks, knowing I’m not doing a very good job at holding it together.
“How am I supposed to process all of this and teach all my campers how to handle the puck without turning into a sobbing mess?”
“That’s why I brought reinforcements.” Grant whistles, and Maverick, Riley, Hudson, Ethan, Emmy, and Liam step forward. “You all have your assignments. Execute them flawlessly, please, so no one gets hurt. No cross-checking, no slashing. Basic drills, easy skating. Any questions?”
“Damn, Everett.” Maverick smirks. “Huddy, Sully, and I retire, and you take over as team leader? You’ve come such a long way.”
“I’m literally the team captain.” Grant rolls his eyes. “And we’ve won more Stanley Cups under my reign than we did yours. Might be time to rewrite the history books, Miller.”
Maverick laughs and tugs Emmy’s hand, leading her to the older skaters. The goalies and defensive players go with Liam and Hudson while Ethan and Riley circle up the youngest campers.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For the good news. For supporting me. I’m not sure this would be possible without you by my side.”
“You’re not wrong about many things, baby, but you’re wrong about that. This was always possible for you.” Grant slips an arm around my waist and pulls me close. “I’m glad I can watch from the sidelines and cheer you on.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Amelia Green, and that includes all of your accolades: Greatest collegiate hockey player of all time. Decorated coach. Amazing friend. My motivation to keep going when things are hard. A gorgeous, gorgeous girl with a brilliant mind.” Grant’s nose bumps mine.
His hands slide down to my lower back, fingers splayed out across my new jersey.
“I’m so proud of you. Whatever you decide to do going forward—whether it’s continuing to coach in the NHL, moving over to the PWHL and dominating a new league, or shifting to a CEO role and turning around a defunct franchise like you did with Baltimore—I’m going to support you.
I’m going to cheer you on. There’s not a damn thing you can’t do, and I have to pinch myself that I’m the lucky bastard who gets to go home with you every night. ”
“I’m just as lucky. Thank you for not making me feel like I have to be quiet about my success. Thank you for making me think I can do anything I set my mind to. Thank you for helping me grow and learn.” I cup his cheeks and smile. “Thank you for letting me be my own person.”
“Quiet about your success? Sweetheart, I’m taking out a billboard on the Capital Beltway that has your name and picture on it so the whole city can celebrate you.” He grins. “Fuck being subtle.”
“Can I tell you my secret of the day?”
“I can’t wait to hear.”
“I like seeing my name on the back of your jersey.”
“Yeah? Guess it’s time for my secret of the day.
” His eyes light up and crinkle in the corners.
He adjusts his sleeve and points to his arm.
There’s a new addition next to his hourglass tattoo, fresh ink I haven’t seen before.
I recognize the scrawly handwriting below the crease of his wrist. Two words in tiny print. “How about as a permanent addition?”
“You didn’t.” I grab his arm. Mr. Green is written on his fair skin, and I gasp. “Oh my god.”
“I thought about copying Maverick and getting it on my chest near my heart, but I like having it somewhere everyone can see.”
“Everyone will see. You have a photoshoot for Men’s Health right after Christmas!”
“Perfect time to show it off.” Grant smiles. “My right arm will be for your jersey number and the Olympic medal you’re going to win.”
It might be a joke, but I don’t care.
I’m the luckiest woman in the world, and I still can’t believe this is how our story ends.
“Come on.” I tug on his sleeve and lace my fingers through his. “Do you have your skates?”
“They’re in my car. Why?”
“I want to add an impromptu drill to find the fastest skater, and you can be the referee.”
“Are you going to let me race you after?” Grant lifts an eyebrow. “We need to figure out who is the fastest one in the house.”
“Do you really think you’d win?”
“Nah. I don’t stand a chance.” He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. “I just like to see you skate.”
I laugh and head for the campers with a heart so full, it’s close to bursting.
“Listen up, everyone” I say. “We’re going to mix it up and do some speed drills to figure out our fastest skater. How does that sound?”
There’s a round of cheers and high fives. I touch the Olympic rings patch that sits right over my heart, confident the future of hockey is in good hands.