Epilogue Happily Ever Afterter
JULIAN
My skates feel as heavy as lead. The horn that just echoed through the rafters of the arena wasn’t ours, and the deafening roar currently tearing the roof off the building belongs to a stadium full of fans wearing a different jersey.
The Night Hawks made it all the way back to the Stanley Cup Finals…but this time, we lost.
I stand frozen, my hands resting on the top of my stick, my chest heaving beneath sweat-soaked pads.
All around me, gloves and sticks are being tossed into the air by the Kingsmen, an ecstatic blur of celebration that I can barely bring myself to look at.
The silver trophy we fought through eighty-two regular-season games and three brutal playoff rounds to defend is being wheeled out onto the ice, but it’s not coming to us.
The loss stings more than I expected it to, but still not as badly as other losses in the past. It’s a bitter, metallic taste in the back of my throat, and a physical ache in my ribs that has nothing to do with the checks I took during the third period.
It’s a hollow weight, especially looking across the ice at the roster currently hoisting each other into the air.
I watch Riot scream toward the rafters, my jaw tightening as he hugs Cruz.
It’s bittersweet, because I am glad to see Cruz so happy, especially since he got signed mid-season and finally gets to play hockey again.
We’ve battled the Kingsmen all year, and deep in my gut, I know this isn't a one-time collision.
This rivalry is officially set in stone.
Even with the disappointment crushing down on my shoulders, as I look around at my teammates, things feel fundamentally different now.
Last year, a loss like this would have driven me straight into the dark.
I would have locked myself in my apartment, counted my bruises, and convinced myself that the universe was just punishing me for trying to win.
Today, as Jensen skates over and slaps his heavy glove against my shoulder, his face grim but his eyes steady, the dark doesn't come.
Carson nods at me from across the zone, and Owen is already skating toward the handshake line, his head held up.
Truthfully, this loss doesn't land as hard because for the first time ever, I actually feel like I belong. With the team, with my friends, and with Hadley. I thought I was replaceable, but it turns out I’m anything but.
The loss doesn’t feel like the end of something. It just feels like the beginning of a new chapter. We aren't broken…now we’re hungry.
I glance up into the stands and find the girls in the media box.
Hadley is sitting between Skyler and Rylee, and she gives me a small wave and sympathetic smile.
Waving back, I follow the guys through the standard, grueling ritual of the handshake line, my hand meeting the palms of the men who just beat us, offering a tight, respectful nod to each one.
Once the ice is finally cleared, we trudge down the concrete tunnel back to the locker room.
The silence in the room is heavy, the smell of sweat and stale ice filling the air as guys silently begin unlacing their skates.
I sit in front of my locker, pulling my phone from the pocket of my duffle bag just to check the time. The screen lights up, and my heart does a warm roll in my chest.
Two notifications are sitting on the glass.
The first is a text from Mrs. Clay.
Mrs. Clay: Proud of you, Julian. You fought like a beast out there. Head up. I’ll see you and Hadley on Sunday.
A rough smile touches my lips. She’s been doing really well. Hadley and I visit her as often as we can, and FaceTime her weekly without fail. She’s safe, she’s happy, and best of all, she’s healthy.
Then I look at the second notification, and my throat goes completely tight.
It’s a text from my brother, Lucas.
Lucas: Great season, J. You left everything on the ice. Proud to call you my brother.
I stare at the words on the screen. I can still hardly believe we’re in contact again.
My mind drifts back to how Hadley made this possible.
Without telling me, she asked Skyler to use her tech skills to hunt him down.
Once she found him, Hadley didn't just hand me an address.
She sat me down, held my hands, and gave me the courage to swallow my pride and go visit him.
I thought he had abandoned me. I thought he left me behind with our father because he didn't care.
Turns out, the truth was a tragedy we both had to survive.
Lucas had been planning to save up enough money to be able to take us both away.
The night he snuck out, he was going to boost cars for a quick payday he was hoping would finally get us out, but he never made it.
He got arrested. Now, he’d gotten out on parole and was working a steady job at a garage.
When we met, he admitted to me through tears that he never reached out after getting out because he thought I hated him.
That I’d look at his record and see the same trash our father was.
He also told me he’s a massive, unapologetic Night Hawks fan. He’s watched every single one of my games. Kept a scrapbook of my stats.
The two of us are now rebuilding our relationship from the ground up. It’s messy, and we have a decade of silence to talk through, but the bridge is there thanks to Hadley.
I get cleaned up and make my way out of the locker room, and she’s standing in the hallway waiting for me.
She’s wearing my jersey, and her hair is pulled back into a ponytail.
She walks right up to me. I wrap my arms around her, lifting her off her feet and burying my face into her silky hair.
Her arms slide around my waist, and she gives me a squeeze.
I feel the solid, heavy weight of the wedding ring I got her resting against the small of my back as she holds me.
“I’m sorry, big guy,” she whispers.
I pull back just enough to look down at her, and reach my hand up to cup her cheek and brush my thumb over her skin.
“Don't be,” I grin. “We’ll get them next year. I’ve got everything I need right here.”
HADLEY
The mid-summer Colorado sun is dipping below the jagged line of the mountains, casting a warm, honey-colored glow over the outdoor reception.
The air smells of pine, expensive champagne, and the sweet, heavy scent of wild roses.
After a year of absolute chaos, this summer brings one final wedding for the group.
Stacey and Owen are finally married.
They are surrounded by the entire Night Hawks family, the dance floor already vibrating under the weight of twenty-something athletes who don't know how to do anything in moderation. I sit at our round table near the edge of the pavilion, a half-empty glass of iced tea in my hand, my body completely relaxed as I lean back against Julian’s chest. His left arm is draped over the back of my chair, his thumb tracing a slow, rhythmic circle against the bare skin of my shoulder.
I look up at him through my lashes and smile, my heart racing at the sight of his gorgeous face. His hair is pulled back into a neat bun and his beard is tidy.
“You’re staring, sweetheart,” he rumbles, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Just admiring my husband,” I tease, shifting so I can tuck myself more securely against his side.
“Good. Keep doing it.” He leans down, his beard grazing my temple as he presses a slow, lingering kiss to my hair, his breath warm against my skin.
Across the lawn, Owen is taking turns spinning Millie and Stacey around in their white dresses, his booming laugh echoing over the music. The other guys and girls are scattered throughout the party, dancing and drinking and celebrating the only way we know how.
“I’m just saying,” Zander shouts over the music, stumbling over to our table with a fresh pint of beer and Rylee trailing behind him, her eyes bright with laughter. “It’s crazy none of us remember it!”
“Dude, why are you obsessing over Wilder’s wedding right now?” Carson hollers from the next table over, throwing a crumpled cloth napkin at him.
“How do you guys even know any of us were there?” Rylee asks, arching a brow.
Zander pauses a moment, his jaw dropping before he mutters, “Uh…I guess that’s true…”
Julian just lets out a low chuckle under his breath, his hand dropping down to find mine beneath the table.
He squeezes my fingers, the heavy weight of his wedding band pressing against my knuckles.
We’ve been trying to figure out the details of that night since we found out we were married, and it’s aggravating not to be able to remember anything about our own wedding.
Still, it’s so good to be married to Julian that I don’t let myself dwell on my missing memories too much.
Especially considering my mom and dad have already started planning a reception for us after I graduate.
Before Zander can launch into another retelling of our Vegas shenanigans, Skyler tilts her head, her gaze latched on Grace and Jensen as they walk toward our tables.
“Guys, has anyone noticed that something’s a bit different with Grace?” she asks.
Carson frowns and blinks. “Huh? What do you mean?”
Skyler gives him a pointed look. “Like, she hasn’t had anything to drink. At all. The whole weekend.”
It takes another moment for realization to click, and then Carson’s eyes go wide. He jumps to his feet and points at Jensen just as he and Grace stop in front of the tables.
“I’m going to be an uncle?” he exclaims. “You’re making me an uncle? I’m too young! Look at this face!”
Skyler groans and drops her head into her hands. Jensen and Grace exchange a look, both grinning. Jensen shrugs.
“Guess the cat’s out of the bag,” he replies. “Yep, it’s true. Grace and I are expecting.”
Zander lets out a piercing whistle, practically leaping over a chair to tackle Jensen into a hug.
Carson is shouting, the girls are screaming, and the entire group descends into an absolute hurricane of celebratory chaos all over again.
I jump up, pulling Grace into a tight hug while the guys bombard Jensen with shoulder bunches and headlocks.
By midnight, the high-voltage energy of the reception is still going strong, but Julian and I slip away early together. We’re both exhausted.
When we get back to the cabin we rented near the venue, the quiet of the mountain night wraps around us like a heavy blanket.
I don't even make it to the bedroom before my feet give out from hours in heels.
I collapse onto the plush leather sofa in the living room, kicking my shoes off with a sigh of pure relief.
Julian walks over, already unbuttoning his black vest, his tie long gone.
Without a word, he slides onto the cushions beside me, reaching out to pull me into his lap.
I curl up against him, my legs hooked over his thighs, still wearing his heavy suit jacket over my shoulders to ward off the high-altitude chill. He wraps his arms around me, holding me close against his chest, his head dropping into the crook of my neck.
“Hey, wife,” he whispers, the rough, gravelly timbre of his voice vibrating into my collarbone.
A soft laugh escapes me, and I tangle my fingers into his hair. “Hey, husband.”
He kisses me, his lips soft and unhurried as his hands rest against my hips. He calls me his wife every single chance he gets these days, his voice always holding a note of awe, like he still can’t believe the universe actually let him keep me.
We sit there in the dim moonlight filtering through the cabin windows, listening to the wind rustle through the pines outside.
Over the last months, we’ve both pieced together the missing fragments of that wild first night in Vegas.
We still laugh about it and how we’d woken up the next morning together, fully dressed, completely confused, with no clue we were hitched.
“My dad called me before the ceremony today,” I murmur, tracing the outline of Julian’s pecs through his shirt. “He wanted to know if we needed help looking over the new contract the Night Hawks have given you.”
“Like father, like son,” Julian chuckles, a small smile touching his lips. “Your grandfather and I had a long talk on the bench during the skate yesterday, too. He’s already setting up a framework for me with the athletic department.”
I shift, looking up into his dark, steady eyes. “Oh, that’s great! What’s he thinking specifically?”
He nods. “Player development and coaching consultancy. He thinks I can make a go of it in the front office handling the younger guys coming through the system. Teaching them how to handle the pressure. He also thinks I could make a go of it coaching in the AHL or NAHL to start.” He slides his hand up to cup my jaw, his thumb wiping away a stray hair. “Everything is ahead of us, Hadley.”
I gaze up at him. A deep sense of peace settles over me.
For the first time in both of our lives, we’re not waiting for the other shoe to drop.
The road ahead of us is wide open, and the choices we make are totally ours.
No matter what happens next, no matter what rivalries we face or what challenges the future throws our way, we have each other.
That is the one thing I know will never change.