Epilogue - Caroline
EPILOGUE - CAROLINE
I ’m even more nervous than I thought I’d be about Sparkly Pacifica’s big debut as the intermission entertainment show for the Iowa Gray Hawks. When the team owner called me up to his office on the day of Brock’s head injury, I’d been certain the gruff older man was going to fire me after he mentioned that he was stunned to learn that his team doctor was moonlighting as a mermaid-for-hire.
His offer to buy me a travel tank as long as I agreed to put on shows at the games had absolutely floored me. It’s a dream come true to get to do what I love in front of an enthusiastic crowd of people, except…
I still haven’t told the guys on the team about my alter ego. Brock hasn’t shared my secret with anyone, so tonight’s performance is going to be my big reveal. He has assured me at least a hundred times that the team won’t lose respect for me as their doctor after seeing me in my mermaid ensemble, but I can’t shake the feeling that it’s going to cause them to view me as unprofessional.
Tonight’s playoff game is the climax of the season, and I’m certainly not the only one who is jittery. The air is filled with an electrified energy as players pace back and forth, waiting until it’s time to finish suiting up.
Even though Brock isn’t allowed to play, the guys insisted that he’s still a part of the team and should join them in the locker room before the game. He has grown out his beard as a sign of solidarity for the playoffs, and there’s no denying the scruffy look is sexy on him. I might need to suggest that he keep the extra facial hair for a while.
Brock proves that he’s still as much a part of the team as ever by teasing Stoner. “Try not to spend the entire night in the sin bin.”
Stoner glares at Brock before asking, “Where’s your sweater, Brick Man?”
I had suggested that Brock wear his team jersey tonight, but he’d insisted that the privilege should be reserved for active players on the team.
He’s rescued from having to come up with a response by the blaring of his cell phone. The way Brock’s face lights up when he glances at the name on the screen has me curious if it’s another woman, but I have faith in my man and know deep down in my heart that he would never do anything to hurt me.
I force myself to focus on taping Orr’s ankle, despite the way my heart is racing in anticipation of tonight’s debut underwater performance. Ankle taping is a job the team’s physical therapist could easily handle, but I’m happy to have my hands busy.
Brock is out in the hallway on his phone call for several minutes. When he returns, he walks straight over to me and bends down to kiss my cheek. We both ignore the childish ooh’s that emerge from a couple of the guys. Although we haven’t tried to keep our relationship a secret, we also haven’t shouted about it from the rooftops. Evidently some of the players are a little slow on the uptake.
I finish with Orr’s ankle and send him on his way.
Without any prompting, Brock reveals, “That was a high school buddy of mine, Beckett Hayes. He was finally returning my call about the scam artists that were pretending to be me a while back and asking all of my contacts for money.”
“It took him long enough to call you back,” I mutter, perturbed on Brock’s behalf.
“Beckett said that he knew it was a hoax as soon as the scammer sent a message asking him to send cash. Besides, he’s been through the ringer lately, and I haven’t been as good of a friend to him as I should be.”
Since Brock isn’t upset about his friend’s delay in returning his call, I decide to let it go. Besides, it’s obvious that Brock has more to say about this mysterious friendship, and I want to fully focus on his story.
Brock’s voice is quiet when he reveals, “Beckett’s wife died of cancer a while back.”
I cover my mouth with my hand before saying from behind it, “She must have been so young.”
“Yeah,” Brock agrees in a sad tone before adding, “I’ve wanted to reach out to him so many times, but I just didn’t know what to say.”
Brock’s downcast expression makes it clear that he truly feels guilty for not being a better friend, so I assure him, “No one knows what to say after extreme tragedies like that. It’s so difficult.”
“I should have tried harder to be there for him.”
Hearing Brock berate himself has me desperate to help him in any way I can. Uncertain what else to do, I reach out to caress his shoulder.
He gives me an appreciative smile for the supportive, warm gesture before continuing. “He’s been struggling with being a newly single dad to their little girl.”
Nodding my head, I murmur, “I bet. I can’t even begin to imagine the drastic changes they’ve been dealing with.”
“That’s not even the worst of it,” Brock reveals.
My eyes widen at this news, but I remain quiet to let him continue without interruption.
He leans in to say, “While we were on the phone, a woman arrived on Beckett’s doorstep claiming to be his daughter’s birth mother. The adoption records were sealed, so I can’t imagine how she would know that, but a crazy lady staking a claim on his child is the last thing he needs to be dealing with right now.”
“Oh, that poor man,” I say, truly feeling terrible for Brock’s friend, even though I’ve never met him.
“Yep, it’s an impossible situation. I’m going to do better about being there for him going forward.”
I have no doubt about the sincerity in Brock’s quiet vow. Once the stubborn man decides to do something, he is locked in and unshakable.
“Beckett may be going through the worst phase of his life right now, but he is lucky to have you in his corner,” I say.
“I’m the lucky one to have you by my side,” he whispers sweetly near my ear.
It’s all I can do to keep from tipping up onto my toes to give him a kiss, but passion tends to take over when our lips meet. We can’t have a full make-out session in the team’s medical treatment room.
As if proving that point, Stoner walks past as we’re gazing lovingly at each other and grunts, “Get a room.”
We both chuckle at his gruff words before grudgingly admitting that he’s right and forcing ourselves to back away from each other.
“Just for now,” Brock promises before lightly tweaking my nose.
Brock stays with me as we watch the game on the big screen television and wait for the first intermission between the first two periods of the game. I’m all glittered up and ready for him to help me into my glass, paneled water tank.
I whisper my mantra quietly to myself. I am enough. My brain is brilliant. I am worthy.
The uplifting words normally serve to calm me, but they do little to help my nerves tonight. This is my first official show in the brand-new tank, and the uncertainty about what the team will think of my mermaid persona makes my stomach churn uncomfortably.
As if he can sense my worries, Brock says, “Everyone is going to love Sparkles. She’s almost as amazing as you are, Caro.”
“Caro.” I smile after I repeat the beautiful nickname.
“Is it okay if I call you that?”
“I love it,” I assure him before adding, “And I love you.”
“I love you more,” he says sweetly.
I rub my hands together and say, “This is the largest crowd I’ve ever performed for. I hope there aren’t any merverts in the audience.”
“Any what?!?” Brock half-shouts, already clearly fired up.
I hadn’t meant to mention the men who have fetishes for mermaids. Brock has enough on his mind without me giving him one more thing to worry about. Evidently, my jitters are making my lips loose.
“Don’t worry about it. I can handle myself,” I assure him.
“I’m sure you can, and I’ll be right here to take care of anyone who gets out of line. I’m your male goose, Caro.”
At my confused expression, he clarifies. “Geese mate for life, remember? Plus, the male fights for the female and protects his family at all costs. It may be an outdated, archaic notion, but I want to be your protector for the rest of my days.”
It’s almost as if he can read my mind. I don’t care if it is old-fashioned. I’ve always wanted to feel cherished and protected. When I reach up my arms, he stoops down so I can hug him from my seated position.
Whispering near his ear, I say, “I’ve never felt as secure and loved as I do in your arms.”
He groans and says, “There’s nothing I want more than to hold you tight for the rest of my days. I wish we could get out of here right now, but your show is too important to miss.”
His mention of the show brings my attention to the countdown timer on the game’s scoreboard. Deciding it’s time, I ask him, “Ready to help me into the tank?”
“Absolutely,” he answers.
The man lifts me and climbs the steps to the top of my rolling water tank as if it’s the easiest thing he’s done all day.
After he gently eases me down into the chilly water, I flap my sparkly tail and say, “A mermaid could get used to this type of first-class treatment.”
“That’s a good thing because I plan on always being here. I never want to miss one of your shows.”
Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to wipe the wide, happy grin off my face. I love it that Brock is so supportive and enthusiastic about my quirky hobby.
Although I’d been worried about being the sole entertainment for both intermissions, the shows go off without a hitch. I twirl, spin, wave, smile, somersault, and completely morph into Sparkly Pacifica while I’m in the water.
The crowd claps and cheers, feeding me more energy. By the time Brock walks out on the ice to roll my tank away after the second intermission, I’m riding a high I’ve never before experienced after a performance.
As the familiar voice of Boomer, the announcer, comes over the loudspeaker to signal the end of my show, I blow kisses to the audience. To my utter surprise and delight they give me a standing ovation. They are still upright when the man reveals, “And the team’s very own Brick Man, Brock Mann, is escorting Sparkles off the ice tonight.”
The cheering escalates and Brock pauses to wave at the crowd.
“Brock has just agreed to take over as the official announcer for the Iowa Gray Hawks next season, since I’m retiring after the playoffs. Let’s all give him a warm welcome.”
The team’s mascot begins flailing his wings to encourage the crowd as they make loud hawk screeches. Brock is smiling ear-to-ear as the entire arena is filled with high-pitched squawks to help welcome him to his new gig.
After the noise begins to die down, he finishes wheeling me out of the arena.
Once we’re in the privacy of the medical room, he helps me out of the water and sets me down on a bench.
Just as I’m getting ready to ask him about the big announcer news, a group of rowdy players comes in to congratulate him. They engulf him in a hug and shuffle him towards the locker room with them.
Deciding that Brock will be busy watching the last period of the game, I wiggle out of my tail, lock myself in the bathroom adjacent to my office, and take my time showering and drying off.
By the time I’m fully warmed up, dried off, and feeling human again, the game has ended. When I emerge from the bathroom, Shayna assures me that she has already taken care of the few, minor injuries that occurred during the last period of the game. I thank the efficient woman for covering for me and suggest that she take tomorrow morning off. She readily agrees and breezes away.
It takes me a while to find Brock, even though it probably shouldn’t. The last stragglers from the crowd are exiting the arena when I spot him sitting in the penalty box next to the ice.
Without looking over when I sit down beside him, he places a warm hand on my knee and says, “I certainly spent my fair share of time in this sin bin.”
His tone is wistful, but not necessarily sad.
Deciding to address it directly, I ask, “Was it super hard to watch your teammates play tonight and not be able to join them on the ice?”
“You know, I thought it would be practically impossible,” he answers, staring out at the rink. Turning to look at me, he adds, “But it wasn’t really that bad. I mean, sure, I miss it. But I can’t be bitter because I have so many blessings and so much to look forward to.”
“The announcer thing?” I ask him.
“Yes, that’s a big part of it. I think announcing is going to be really fun. I love talking about hockey and calculating statistics, so I think it’s the next-best thing to actually being on the ice. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it sooner, but it was kind of a last-minute decision when I heard that Boomer is retiring.”
I stare down at my black leggings. “It’s okay. You don’t owe me a heads-up.”
“But I do,” he immediately counters. Reaching out to gently turn my chin toward him, he murmurs, “Look at me, Caro.”
I obey, smiling at the nickname I already love.
“I want us to be together. Always.”
Tears well in my eyes at his dreamy words. “I want that, too.”
“Good, then it’s settled.” He says with finality. He bobs his head once, then asks me, “Are you ready for your surprise?”
I clap my hands together, unable to contain my excitement as I say, “I love surprises!”
He’s beaming a wide smile at me when he reaches down to lift up a pristine pair of white ice skates.
Despite my best efforts to the contrary, I fear my disappointment in the gift is obvious when I say, “Oh, wow. Thank you. I’ve never ice skated before.”
“Then it’s high time you start,” Brock says firmly, leaving no room for doubt.
“They fit perfectly,” I admit as I pull the laces tight and tie them.
When he stands and holds a hand out to help me up, I take a deep breath and move to join him. Unfortunately, I know before we even start that I’m not going to be good at ice skating. The one time I went roller skating was an absolute disaster where my friends zoomed around the rink, while I flailed and fell down multiple times doing one loop of the rink before giving up and going home. My attempts to learn to ride a bike and snow ski were even less successful than that.
Deciding I better warn him I say, “I tend not to be very good at anything that requires balance.”
He holds my hand as he leads me out to the ice. In a reassuring voice he says, “You’ll be fine. I’m right here, and I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.”
I’ve always hated doing anything that I’m not naturally proficient in, but Brock’s calm confidence makes me brave. He skates backwards and holds both of my hands to steady me. I’m shaky and my ankles wobble, but I do manage to make an unsteady loop of the rink with Brock’s firm guidance.
“I’m doing it!” I squeal, beyond excited.
“You sure are!” Brock’s voice is filled with pride.
Just as I’m beaming up at him over my new talent, my feet disappear from beneath me and my butt crashes down on the ice before I even realize what is happening.
Brock joins me on the ice. As soon as he makes sure I’m okay, we both laugh together about my short-lived win.
He leans in to brush his warm lips across mine before saying, “I guess you can’t be perfect at everything.”
“It may take me a while, but I will conquer this,” I say with determination edging my voice.
“I have no doubt about that,” he tells me, sounding completely sincere. When I move to stand, he suggests, “Let’s sit here a minute so you can catch your breath.”
I nod my head, happy for the brief reprieve.
His eyes are sparkling when he says, “You know one thing that would make your intermission show even better?”
“What?” I ask, truly curious about his suggestion.
“A little girl, who is your mini-me, dressed in a matching costume and doing the performance alongside you.”
I’ve never given the idea of having a child much thought because I’ve been so busy with work, and I haven’t had a man in my life. But now that the idea is out there, I can’t deny how appealing it is.
I grin at Brock. “That does sound amazing, but what if she would rather play ice hockey than be in the water with me?”
“Then I’ll teach her everything I know about the game,” he says as if the answer should have been obvious.
Loving that response, I ask, “And what if our little girl is a boy?”
“Then he’ll be the luckiest son in the world because he has you for a mom and a dad who couldn’t be prouder of him.”
“Even if he wants to be a merman?” I ask, hoping that Brock doesn’t have a toxic masculine side that he has kept hidden from me until now.
My last shred of doubt releases when he assures me, “Especially if he wants to be a merman.”
Tilting his head to the side, he adds, “Whether we have a boy or a girl, I hope our child is smart, like you.”
“And like you,” I remind him.
Beaming at this, the man of my dreams leans in to give me a sweet, soft kiss.
After he pulls back, I ask, “When should we start trying to get pregnant?”
“How about right now?” he asks me, his eyes alight with mischief.
As tempting as that thought is, I have some practical concerns, which I voice. “That sounds great, except the ice is rather hard, wet, and cold.”
“Well, let’s go then,” he suggests, already standing and reaching out to help me up.
“Yes, let’s go try to make a baby.” I squeal when he lifts me over his shoulder, shouts with glee, and skates me toward our happily-ever-after.
* * *
Widower and single dad Beckett Hayes just endured the worst year of his life. When feisty Mara Gold shows up at his front door claiming to be his daughter’s birth mother, she brings with her a whirlwind of trouble. Sparks are sure to fly when these two go head-to-head in Kansas Keeper . Read on for a sneak peek of the first chapter…