Epilogue
Cal
New Year’s Eve
I should’ve been ready for this.
The sheer size of the place. The skyline slicing clean through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The hum of money and power and something slicker than either of those things.
But all I can do is stare at Noelle.
She steps into the penthouse like she owns the damn city. Hair curled just enough to make me want to run my fingers through it, lips glossed, smile soft but sure.
She’s wearing a deep green dress that hugs her hips and dips low enough in the front to short-circuit my brain. I’m pretty sure I blacked out for a second in the elevator just trying not to drag her back down to the parking garage.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she whispers, nudging her elbow into my side as the doors close behind us.
“I can’t help it.” My voice is low, thick. “You’re wearing my favorite color.”
“And what color is that?”
I lean in, brushing my lips just under her ear. “Yours.”
Her breath catches. God, I love that sound.
The party is already in full swing—music pulsing from the surround speakers, crystal glasses clinking, team guys and staff scattered in small groups across the sleek space.
Sloane lifts her glass in greeting from the other side of the room without breaking stride in her conversation with an older gentleman. Maddox is next to her, quietly watching everything.
Still, it’s weird being here, being invited.
Part of me keeps waiting for someone to call me out—ask what the hell a third-line rookie is doing standing in the home of the team owner and her star goalie.
But no one blinks.
Finn’s already making a beeline toward us, hair a mess, shirt half-untucked like he got dressed in the dark and still managed to look like he belongs on a billboard.
“Look who finally decided to show up,” he says, draping himself around my shoulders like we’re prom dates. “Jesus, Reid, what are you feeding this woman? She’s glowing.”
Noelle laughs, brushing him off with a practiced ease that makes me think she’s finally stopped being surprised by Finn’s existence.
“She glows all on her own,” I say, meaning every damn word.
Finn whistles and backs off with both hands in the air like I just brandished a shotgun. “Damn, rookie. Didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Neither did I,” I murmur once he’s gone, and Noelle just squeezes my hand tighter.
We weave through the room slowly, stopping to say hi to Jace—who nods once, that captain energy even in a charcoal sweater—and Beau, who’s got a date I don’t recognize.
Riley’s already had a few, clearly, based on how loud he’s being near the bar. Eli and Logan are talking near the windows, dressed like they just walked off a magazine cover.
I barely notice any of them.
Because she’s here with me. Holding my hand like she’s not going anywhere.
We pause near the dessert spread. There’s chocolate truffles and a sign shaped like a snake that reads The Pit’s Top Shelf Bubbly in front of a tower of champagne coupes.
Her eyes light up at the sparkle. “This is so extra.”
“You love it.”
She laughs. “I really do.”
I’d never admit it to the guys, but I’m getting used to this version of my life—cleaner, warmer, touched with glitter and holiday lights. Mostly because it comes with her.
“You want champagne?” I ask, already reaching for two glasses.
She nods, but her voice softens. “Only if you’ll toast with me.”
“To what?”
Noelle lifts her glass to mine. “To surprise interference.”
I huff a laugh and clink. “I’ll drink to that.”
It’s close to midnight when I pull her out onto the terrace.
The glass doors slide shut behind us, muffling the party. Inside, the countdown is starting. But out here, it’s just us and the skyline in the distance. Cold air wraps around us like a dare.
Noelle leans into me, breath fogging against my shoulder. “It’s freezing.”
“I know.” I tug her closer. “But I have something I want to show you.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Cal…”
I reach into my jacket pocket and pull it out.
A brass key, tied with a frayed red ribbon I stole from one of the catering boxes. It’s not fancy.
But it’s ours.
Her face softens instantly. Her hand lifts to cover her mouth, like she’s trying to keep the emotion from leaking out.
“Noelle, I know this might seem quick, but I was taught early that life can change in an instant. I love you, and I don’t want to wait. Will you move in with me?”
My fingers find her waist. Hers thread into the lapels of my jacket.
She swallows hard, and her voice cracks when she whispers, “I love you, too, Cal. And yes, I will move in with you.”
The key wobbles a little in my hand, but the second she lifts her chin and her mouth touches mine, I forget everything else.
She kisses me like we’ve got nowhere else to be. No one watching. Just this sliver of midnight and the two of us folded into it.
Behind us, cheers erupt through the penthouse windows—glasses clinking, someone yelling “Happy New Year,” Finn’s voice unmistakable as he shouts something crude about resolutions.
Noelle doesn’t flinch.
Just kisses me deeper, fingers slipping into my hair like she’s anchoring herself to the moment.
And God, I hope she is. Because I am.
When we finally break apart, breathless and flushed, she smiles up at me. “Best start to a year I’ve ever had.”
“Same,” I murmur, brushing my thumb along her cheekbone. “And I’ve got plans to make it even better.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. First step: keep kissing you every midnight I can.”
Her laugh is quiet but cuts through the chill. “You really are a softie.”
“Only for you.”
The doors behind us slide open, and the noise spills out.
Riley’s holding two beers and yelling at one of the other rookies to hurry up and take the damn picture.
Inside, Maddox has Sloane pulled against his side, forehead to hers, the weight of the world melted off his face for the first time since October.
Beau’s got a glass in one hand and a video monitor in the other, probably checking on his daughter.
The rest of the team is loud and messy and whole in a way I never knew I needed.
Noelle steps back toward the doors. I follow, but something near the windows catches my attention.
Finn.
He’s standing by the bar in a tuxedo jacket and sneakers, one hand wrapped around a tumbler of whiskey, flashing his signature grin at a woman in a tailored suit and sky-high heels.
She doesn’t even blink when he leans in to say something that’s probably just this side of inappropriate.
Noelle nudges my side with a grin. “Who is that with Finn?”
“Margot DeLane,” Logan says coming up beside me. “They call her the Ice Queen or the Cleaner. She’s the one they call in when you’ve got a PR nightmare on your hands, and she’s cold as ice while she does it.”
“So, what you’re saying is she’s tailor made for Finn?” I ask, watching her spine stiffen as she turns away from him without a word.
“She looks like she wants to murder him,” Noelle whispers, eyes wide.
“She might,” I mutter, half under my breath.
Finn watches her walk away, all calm on the outside—but I know him. I see the shift in his jaw. The way his eyes track her like he just lost a puck he didn’t mean to give up.
He catches Logan and me watching and flips us off, like we’re the problem.
Noelle snorts into her champagne. “I wonder what he said to her?”
“Probably something stupid,” Logan says before walking off.
“What do you want to bet Sloane has to hire Margo to clean up some kind of mess Finn makes? I mean, why else would she be here?”
I groan. “Good God, I hope not. You know he’s already on thin ice with the front office.”
“I bet you a bottle of champagne Margot is cleaning up after Finn before Valentine’s Day.”
I glance back at her. “I’ll take that bet.”
But even as I say it, I know the truth.
Some interference changes everything.
And from the look in Finn’s eyes?
His is just getting started.
THE END
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