Epilogue
Olivia
Two years later . . .
Brody was right. And that’s not something I typically care to admit so freely. The ocean is incredible, and this beach has
become our favorite spot. Don’t get me wrong—we love Minnesota and its ten thousand lakes. But this beachfront home is our
very own paradise getaway.
Two years ago, after the Stanley Cup parade, parties, and award ceremonies, we took a trip back to California together. After
a few too many peanut butter desserts, we drove up to Malibu where we fell in love with the view and waves. We left that trip
with an active offer on this house.
Since then, we’ve made so many memories here. The time Brody confidently bet me ten dollars that he could do a roundoff back
handspring. He did one—with so much momentum that he put his ass through the drywall. His cheeks are forever immortalized
in our living room wall. Or the time we had all his teammates out here for bye week and Hammer and Jordy attempted to craft
an air mattress raft while filming a Titanic re-creation “for science” (TikTok) and needed to be rescued by coast guard officers.
Those idiots made national news. Or my personal fav, the bat incident—don’t ask.
And yes, it involved a series of four shots over the following two weeks and several bad Dracula impressions.
Every time we come out to Malibu, we leave with a story better than the last. I think it’s the lack of ice rinks nearby that
forces us both to take a break from the game. This is our last trip of the offseason—our last break—and we’re soaking up every
sun-filled minute of it before Minnesota Freeze training camp starts next week.
Brody and Uncle Derek’s coalition aimed to make hockey safer was successful in implementing more preventative measures to
combat the threat of CTE into the current NHL CBA. It also includes new affordable and potentially free health care options
for qualified retired players. It’s not a perfect solution but eliminating dirty hits to the head makes it easier to watch
him play.
Seeing Brody do something for others inspired me to start giving back to my community. Together, we run a free summer camp
on the rez at my dad’s old rink. I love any excuse to be in that barn because it’s where I get the most signs from my dad.
Nookomis was right; I needed to open my eyes and heart to him, because now I can’t get my dad to shut up.
Between all the summer ice and training, I’m trying to enjoy as much time with Brody as possible before my schedule picks
up. The college hockey season isn’t nearly as grueling as the PWHL’s season; Assistant Coach of the Minnesota Whitecaps has
a nice ring to it, and a hefty load of pressure too. Luckily, it’s the type of pressure I’ve learned to thrive under.
My dad always said hockey was in my blood.
When my playing career faced the same fate as my father’s, I thought I did something wrong.
This must be what he meant. It’s in my blood, but mostly in my mind.
I’ve been able to apply my analytics-focused college education in combination with my hockey knowledge to be a real asset on the bench.
Disruption, I’m learning, has been something the game of hockey needed greatly.
As the Whitecaps’ newest hire, I’ve spent all day completing orientations and online training seminars. I finally pull myself
away from my computer to shower and get dressed for tonight. Brody has a celebratory dinner planned. I tried to remind him
that we already went out in Minnesota with all my friends and family to celebrate last month when the coaching position was
first announced. Still, he insisted we do something special together, and when he gets these romantic ideas in his head, I’ve
learned it’s best to go with it and enjoy the effort rather than give in to the feeling that I’m not worthy of it.
My stomach rumbles loudly as I indecisively flip through summer dresses. I get one last night in a breezy milkmaid dress before
it’s nothing but matching team tracksuits. There’s just enough time left to add a touch of makeup before heading into the
living room.
When I step out of the room, I expect to find Brody waiting for me slouched on the couch deep in the middle of some epic video-game
battle. Except I find the room empty. In fact, the whole house is empty.
I call out his name, but there’s no answer. As I snoop around for any sign of him, I spot a card on the kitchen island. Inside,
the note says, I know you’ve been hard at work all day, but you’ve got one last assignment. Follow the trail of notes to your surprise.
I look around and find the next note taped to the back door. It says, Yours is the first face I search for in any crowd.
Out on the back deck, I find another. It says, I love keeping your cold toes warm at night.
By the third note, which says, A life without you is an endless losing streak, I’ve clued in to the fact that Brody’s celebratory dinner tonight isn’t for my new position. A trail of notes leads me out
toward the beach. With my hand to my mouth, I silently sob my way to him.
A fat teardrop falls onto the next note in hand, which says, Your dad is so proud of you.
And so am I. A couple more notes lead me through the soft sand.
Your laugh is the best sound in the world and You’re my family lead me toward the beach’s shoreline where Brody is waiting for me.
Having read my last note, I run to him with a fist full
of love letters.
The sun is setting, and the orange and yellow hues are ablaze on the lively ocean. It’s a beautiful backdrop, but it’s the
sight of Brody that takes my breath away.
“Hey,” he says nervously as I approach.
Knowing what comes next and not wanting to ruin any part of his romantic plan, I come to a halt, ready to listen. “Hi,” I
say, winded from the excitement. I tuck my hair behind my ears. The breeze from the ocean slaps my red-hot cheeks but isn’t
enough to cool the flush of nervousness rising inside me.
He grabs my hand. “Before I met you, I struggled to find myself outside of being a hockey player. I lost myself trying to fit in, trying to be everything everyone expected of me. With you, it’s always been easy.
You see the real me and more importantly, you understand me.
There’s no better testament to the strength of our connection than the fact that we could have been enemies, but it’s obvious that we were always destined to be lovers.
You’re effortlessly cool and funny and inspiring.
There’s so much strength in your sensitivity.
You’re the best teammate I could ask for.
The person I want to spend all my lazy mornings, chaotic afternoons, and late nights with.
I can’t picture any tomorrow without you.
We both overcame a lot in life to finally get to the good part.
You’re my good part, and I’m never letting go. ”
He drags his knuckle under his tearful waterline. I’m too shocked to move. He reaches into his pocket. With a tiny velvet
box in hand, he drops onto a knee and flips open the top. “Will you marry me?” he asks, looking up at me.
The ring is staggering. A simple gold band with a beautiful oval-cut diamond. It’s all so overwhelming. I’m sobbing trying
to get my mouth and tongue to coordinate. “Yes!” I shout.
He slips the ring onto my finger. Once he’s back on his feet, I jump into his arms and we embrace, kissing each other as the
waves crash into rocks behind us.
I hold up my hand, mesmerized by my dream ring. “The ring is perfect. How did you know?”
“Because I know you.”
Cheers and clapping erupt from behind us, and when I spin to see who’s there, my eyes tear up again as all our closest friends
and family watch from the sideline. He flew them in to celebrate. I scan the beach. Taking in the moment, I notice the photographer
to our left. He thought of everything. It’s perfect.
As we approach our friends and family, the blur of faces becomes recognizable. I search for Dad’s face in the crowd—even though
I know he’s gone, I’ll always look because there are pieces of him hidden in each one of us. My sister’s statuesque height,
my mom’s wedding ring strung around her neck, Nookomis’s warm eyes, and Nimishoomis’s hearty laugh.
I let myself feel the rush of sadness that threatens to spoil the moment. It moves through me like the wind. It dishevels
my hair, hurts my eyes, and chills my skin. I wish he were here and yet I know he is.
I look up at Brody. He squeezes my hand. Tender and intuitive—like my dad. Someday Brody and I will teach our future children to play hockey, but until then, this is the greatest thing we’ve ever done. With tears in my eyes, I squeeze back. “I love you.”
“I love you more,” he says.
*****