Epilogue Two
Asher
Fourteen years later
I finish lacing up my skates, tug on my practice jersey, grab my stick, and head toward the ice. The cold air of Beacon Hill University’s arena hits me, sharp and familiar, as I breathe it in. This is where I belong. It’s the start of my sophomore year, and I have a good feeling I’ll be slotted on the third line. But all that really matters right now is that I’m back on the ice with my boys.
Pushing off my left blade, I ease into warming up, loosening my knees. A few students are trickling into the stands. The first practice of the year is always open to get people excited for the season. I spot Brooks, and we start passing the puck between us, weaving around the other guys. Last year, when I came in as a freshman, he took me under his wing, making it his mission to help me rein in my temper on the ice. We trained all summer together. Whether his efforts pay off this season? That’s still up in the air.
As we glide past the boards, something catches my eye. A blonde settling into a seat by the far net. She’s stunning—big eyes, flushed cheeks, an athletic build. I shift gears, subtly redirecting our path toward her. Brooks passes me the puck, and I intentionally overshoot it, sending it clanging against the boards right in front of her. She flinches, startled, her eyes wide. When she glances up, our gazes lock. It’s just for a moment, but my body lights up as she glares at me. I flash her my most confident grin, but she just shakes her head and looks back down at her phone. Still, I don’t miss the faint smile tugging at her lips.
I skate over to the bench and ask the trainer for a Sharpie. Grabbing a puck, I scrawl my name and number across it.
“Come on, Asher. What the hell are you doing?” Brooks asks, already irritated.
I nod toward the girl. “Just dropping something off.”
He rolls his eyes. “It’s the first practice of the season and you’re already distracted.”
“Can you blame me? Have you seen her?” I say, smirking.
He shakes his head and skates off, leaving me to my mission. I glide over to the glass, tapping it with my stick. She glances up, brow raised. I lift the puck, signaling that I’m about to toss it her way. She holds out her hands, and I gently pitch it over.
“Call me,” I say with a playful grin.
She shrugs, tossing the puck into her purse. I’m not giving up that easily, so I clasp my hands in mock prayer, mouthing, “Please.” After a long pause, she finally nods, flashing me a smile that sends a jolt of victory through me. I place my hand over my heart, mouthing a dramatic, “Thank you,” before skating off.
Lexi
This hockey guy has balls. I can’t decide if I’m annoyed or kind of turned on. While I’m ninety-nine percent sure he’s pulled this move before, it’s still kind of... cute. I glance down at the puck in my bag, debating if I should actually call him later. He’s ridiculously good-looking. Long, light brown hair, tied back in a man bun, piercing blue eyes, and a smile that could make panties melt.
He definitely knows he’s hot, but the way he looked at me from across the ice sent a little spark through me. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date, and the attention from a guy like that isn’t exactly unwelcome.
“Lexi!”
I turn to see Millie bounding toward me. I stand up, wrapping her in a hug. Over the summer, we bonded hard in our Business Analytics course, and now we’re practically inseparable. Both seniors, both Business Management majors—we’re a good match.
“Hey, Millie, you’re a bit late.”
“Sorry. Did I miss anything?” she asks, breathless.
“They’ve just been skating around.”
“Where’s my brother?” She glances around the rink, searching. Her face lights up when she spots him. “There he is! The one with the man bun.” She points to the player who just made my panties disintegrate moments prior.
My stomach sinks. Of course, this is perfectly my luck. My eyes follow hers to land on the guy who just tossed me the puck. Of all people, he has to be Millie’s brother. Great. There’s no way I’m going out with my best friend’s little brother. Guess I might as well chuck that puck in the trash.