Epilogue
NICO
I’m sprawled out on the couch with Jo tucked against my side, her head on my chest and Gus asleep on my other side. Our little family of three. This is how we’ve spent most of our Sundays now that the season is over.
Lazy morning sex, brunch, TV, and cuddling.
“What happened?” Jo asks, leaning back to look up at me. “I think I fell asleep for a minute.”
I didn’t catch the details, too focused on watching Jo’s dark locks slide through my fingers. “They were having a meeting on the mound, and all of a sudden, one of them was spitting chiclets.”
“Oh my god. Worse than hockey.”
I snort. “Nah. Fights in baseball are usually dudes standing around, holding each other back. Least they actually did something with this one.”
Enough to clear out the benches.
On the screen, the umpires and coaches pull the fighting players off each other, but the wild thing is they’re two from the same team.
Brothers, no less. The commentators explain, “Austin Ashwood has the reputation for being hot-tempered, but this is outrageous. I don’t think anyone would have expected him to go after Brett Ashwood, his own brother. ”
“Ooh. Scandalous,” Jo says, clearly amused.
“What? You a baseball fan now?”
“Maybe. I didn’t realize it was so dramatic. The players are cute too.”
I huff. “They are not.”
She sits up, dark eyes bright that she’s found my weakness. “Are you jealous?”
I roll my eyes. “No.”
“You are! You don’t like me crushing on other players.”
“Yeah.” I pinch her side until she giggles. “’Cause you’re crushing on the Ashwoods.”
She pecks a kiss on my cheek. sweetly. “But you’re still my favorite.”
I hook my arm around her neck, dragging her to me for a real kiss. One that reminds her of the three orgasms I gave her this morning. By the time I let her go, I know I’ve succeeded, from the drunk look on her face. “All right.” She giggles. “Hockey is still the best.”
I settle her back against me, satisfied. Baseball might be America’s pastime, but hockey is one of the top global sports, and because I play in the NHL, that means I am one of the best players in the world. So, take that, Ashwood brothers.
This past season ended with a good play-off run, with us losing in the semifinals.
It was a tough loss, but I think the Iron is in a solid position to come back to win it all next year.
While the front office decided to keep me, they did end up trading Rovie for two younger players right before the deadline.
They had me sweating for a bit, but I’m safe for now, a one-year contract extension under my belt.
Being traded is part of the game, and even though I want to stay in Philadelphia, I feel better about any move in my future now that I have Jo by my side.
She keeps me grounded and stable. I can do anything as long as she’s with me.
If that means playing for another team, so be it. She is down to move wherever.
Especially now that she is officially done with sports photography and her job as Sean’s assistant.
She’s been focusing on her own art and finding out what her point of view is—which I still don’t understand what that means—but it’s been amazing to watch her grow.
On a professional and personal level. With the help of her therapist, she’s been holding strong with her boundaries with her family, and I’m so proud of her. For everything.
She tells me I bring out the best in her, but she does the same for me.
Malcolm and I have been working with Speak Out to help other victims across the spectrum come forward.
A few weeks ago, I released a statement about my story, and I’m in the middle of scheduled speaking engagements across the country about sexual assault and healing from trauma.
It’s been terrifying putting myself out there, but it’s been immensely gratifying, especially when I receive messages from both men and women on social media, thanking me for coming forward so they feel more comfortable doing so.
To think, last year, my social media was filled with DMs from women looking to hook up, and now, it’s stories from strangers that leave me red-eyed yet hopeful. And I never would have been able to take these steps without Jo’s support.
Tomorrow, I get to turn around and support her. “You nervous at all?”
“A little. Mostly excited.”
“It’s going to be great,” I say, back to combing my fingers through her hair.
Jensen has become a mentor of sorts to Jo in the last few months, and her first gallery exhibit debuts tomorrow.
She spent weeks choosing which of her photographs to use and print, and we spent hours in the gallery two days ago, hanging them, so I had a preview of Breakaway, a visual journey of how her self-perception has changed over her life, ending with my favorite print.
A self-portrait. Jo’s whole face filling the frame, no makeup or camouflage. Just Jo, smiling and happy.
We’re expecting about one hundred people to show up tomorrow, critics and fans of the local art scene, some of Jo’s co-op friends, and a bunch of my teammates, including Sheffy and Naomi. We’ve recently become close with Camden and Nadine, and they’ll be there too. Our found family.
I press a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m so proud of you.”
She yawns. “I’m proud of you too.”
Another kiss. “I love you.”
She tilts her head back, amusement curling her lips. “I love you too.”
“I’ve been thinking about the whole fated mates trope.”
She playfully rolls her eyes. “Oh yeah?”
I nod, gliding the tip of my index finger over the slope of her nose. “I think it was fate that I knocked you out.”
She fails to bite back a laugh. “Or bad luck, but okay, I’ll bite.”
“Fate brought us together, but it’s not why I fell in love with you.” I trace her lips. “I love you for your mind and creativity.” I draw a line down her throat. “Your rocket of a bod.”
She heaves a sigh, and I grin. “I love you for your courage and strength and never giving in, even when you wanted to.” I lay my hand over her chest. “I love you for your heart.”
Her eyes go glassy, and I chuck her under the chin. “So, the point is, I choose you. Fate did me a solid, but I will always choose you. Every day, I choose you.”
Months ago, she would have denied it, wouldn’t have believed me, but now, she nods and strokes my cheek with her left hand, the gold of my ring that she still wears cool against my skin.
“Even in my wildest dreams, I couldn’t have imagined this.
That’s how I know it’s real. You are real.
You and this life we’ve built together. I love it. Love you.”
I lower my lips to hers, sealing our words with a kiss.
A promise to choose her every day. In every life.
“Now,” I say with a slap to her ass. “If this were a book, this would be about the time you strip and kneel between my legs to suck me off.”
Jo—my formerly innocent Jojo—licks her lips and leans back to remove her top. “Well, if it’s in the book…”
I grin because I’m the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.
I’m so glad you came along on this journey with Nico and Jo!