Epilogue
Sadie
The Fury Dome is cool and all, but the elevator takes way too long to materialize when I’m already late. And to a meeting I don’t know the purpose of, no less.
Jax’s vague meet me at The Ice Box ASAP strikes again.
Last time he summoned me with such urgency, it was for a next-season-planning conversation that definitely wasn’t ASAP-worthy, but I’m not taking any chances.
The light above the elevator seems frozen on 5.
Forget this. I’m taking the stairs.
A call from Vivi comes as I enter the stairwell, at the exact right time to keep me company.
“Hey!” My voice echoes off concrete. “How close are you?”
“Ten or so minutes from the arena. Don’t wait up for me. Jax knows my ‘ASAP’ is not the same as his.”
“We’ll wait for you,” I insist. “He texted us both for a reason, whatever it is. Wait, how did I beat you here when I’m coming all the way from Leo’s house?”
A warm tingle zips across my skin as his name leaves my mouth. His effect on me has grown no less potent in recent months. Only more so.
“Hey, speaking of Leo’s house,” she says, apparently forgetting I asked her a question, “are you ever going to sleep at our place again, or should I consider you officially moved out?”
“I still technically live there! I’ve just been—”
“Busy enjoying your husband. I get it. No time for little ol’ me. I see where I fall on the hierarchy.”
I know all of Vivian Starling’s tones, and this one is pure silliness, no bite.
She’s been nothing but happy for me since the day I asked her to witness our private courthouse ceremony, at which she gave me a lacy blue “borrowed” garter to wear under my silk dress—which Leo later removed with his teeth—and took photos I know I’ll cherish forever.
She was happy before then, even, believing my and Leo’s relationship would work before I even dared to believe it. “You’ll always be my number one, Viv. Even when I am officially moved out.”
Which will happen next week on July first, a date Leo and I picked because it’s the quietest month in hockey. July is the equivalent of turning the page into the new season, and what could be more fitting than that for us to turn our own page?
Moving is mostly ceremonial, since we’ve been married since January—yes, our families were annoyed we eloped with only Vivi as our witness, and yes, they’re begging for a formal wedding as soon as the attention that follows me dies down—and I spend all my nights at his place anyway.
But it’s another exciting step we get to enjoy on our own timeline.
After we eloped, we were still extremely careful about our relationship. I wanted to make it to the playoffs before we announced it officially, and there hasn’t been a particularly good time to stir up the press since then. There’s always a reason to wait.
One of those reasons? We’ve been enjoying the intimacy of our secret. We’re in no hurry for strangers to find out and attempt to sully our happiness with their opinions.
Isla, Jax, Callum, and Nic were the only non-family members besides Vivi who knew as soon as it happened. Sure, if other people found out, we wouldn’t have lied, but it wasn’t important to us that we flaunt it—only that we lived it.
And we’ve been living it, all right. From the second he wakes me with the graze of his stubbled chin against my skin to the drowsy I love yous we trade as we close our eyes at night, and a million tiny moments between.
Just not out in public.
But with each passing day, it gets harder and harder not to kiss my husband in public.
“I’m going to let you go, babe,” Vivi says abruptly. “I’ve got to focus on parking.”
“Already? I thought you were ten minutes away?”
“Gotta get my head in the game. Bye.”
“Ohhhkay,” I tell no one, because she’s already hung up.
I can’t help but wonder if someone more interesting—and male, and hot—called while we were chatting.
Before I started sleeping at Leo’s, Vivi was queen of scrolling the apps and flirting with her matches, and telling me all about it as we lounged on our couch.
I assume that is still the case, though she’s been vague when Isla and I pressed her about it at happy hour the last few weeks.
When I reach the top floor, more winded than I’d like to admit as a former elite athlete, I take a second to catch my breath and regain my composure ahead of whatever news Jax wants to tell us in person.
Nerves flutter between my ribs as always when I’m about to meet with management. But these days, after the season we had, it feels less like debilitating fear and more like excitement. The good kind of nervous that propels you to greater heights instead of wearing you down.
Whatever Jax has to say, I can handle it. And I will.
With a growing smile I don’t bother to fight, I push through the stairwell door that leads me to the main floor. It spits me out near the elevator, which is right by the entrance to the Ice Box.
There’s a handwritten sign on the door.
AC on the fritz. Meet in Glacier Hall instead.
Glacier Hall? All the way on the first floor?
Joy. This time I’m waiting for the elevator.
As I hop off, I see a few tall men power walking, then whipping around the corner. People I’d recognize anywhere, even when they’re moving fast.
“Ivan? Cal?” I quicken my pace, but they’re too far ahead.
By the time I turn the corner to catch up, the door to Glacier Hall is snicking closed.
Jax invited them to this meeting, too? Who else did he round up?
Curiosity piqued, I open the door and—
My breath hitches.
Bodies fill the decorated space. The loud laughter of my friends and teammates mixes with their chatter.
Woven baskets decorate each table, overflowing with baked goods I recognize from Wild Blue.
The bar is set up with a coffee station and paper cups.
A three-tiered cake sits beside it, a crisp white focal point with tiny yellow accents.
A banner hangs from a balloon arch with all different shades of blue.
Happy Birthday Coach!
Vivi peeks over her shoulder and does a double take. “Shit—SURPRISE!”
“Guys, surprise!” Callum echoes, louder, slapping Nic upside the head to get his attention.
The word ripples through the crowd until all forty or so people have said it. I touch my warm cheeks as my smile stretches wide.
That my players, coworkers, and friends were so busy having fun and enjoying each other’s company that they didn’t notice me sneak in is just as big of a gift as this surprise party. Maybe even bigger.
They’ve become a family.
One I am so damn grateful to be a part of.
Isla and Vivi are first to approach me and shower me with more attention and affection than my heart can handle. Vivi asks me if I want lemonade or coffee, and Isla returns in a flash with a cup of each.
Jax is next, giving me a quick side-hug. His gaze is knowing as he nods toward the crowded space. “What a difference a year can make, eh?”
No truer words have ever been spoken. “You got that right, boss.”
I mingle with my players for a while, some of whom may not be my players next year for any number of reasons, but that’s a problem for future me.
It’s no surprise Isla had a lot to do with the execution of this themed event, but Vivi’s touches are everywhere, too.
When the excitement of my arrival finally dies down, Leo materializes at my side. “What do you think of the party? Isla let me help plan it.”
I resist the urge to reel him in by the scruff of his shirt. “Blueberry-themed?”
“And lemons, too.” He steps closer and throws an arm over my shoulder.
“She wanted it to represent you outside of hockey, so I said lemons for who you’ve always been, and blueberries for who you are now that you’ve sold your heart and soul to Maine by way of Wild Blue.
I bought stock in their parent company, by the way. ”
My throat goes dry. “I cannot handle how thoughtful this is.”
His gaze smolders. “You deserve nothing less than an Isla-level event on your birthday.”
I stroke my fingers along the forearm still draped over my shoulder. “Hug me all the way, husband. We can risk it.”
He pulls me close. The familiar, illicit thrill of sneaking around with him lights a fuse between my legs like clockwork as he tries to keep it casual.
As excited as I am to be out in the open soon enough, I have to admit I’ll miss this part.
I love the way he looks at me when he knows he can’t really touch.
His mouth comes dangerously close to my ear. “I want to kiss you so fucking bad, Sadie Lemon Rivers.”
Speaking of full names…
Now is as good a time as any to broach an idea I’ve been flirting with for months. One we’d tabled on account of the scrutiny it might bring.
But with every passing day, I care less and less what people think. Hockey will always be important to me, but it’s not the only important thing.
Maybe women can have whatever they want all at the same time, if they want it bad enough.
I’m ready to live the proof.
“How about I take your name, too? Sadie Lemon Rivers-McLaren.” I murmur, peering up. “Rivers for who I’ve always been. McLaren for who I am now that I’ve given my heart and soul to my—”
His lips meet mine in an impassioned crash, swallowing the rest. Gasps and cheers fill the room.
Oh well. Secret’s out.
Let them talk.