Epilogue
Mo and Sage sat in their rink-side seats opposite the home bench.
“I can’t believe you’ve brought me back into the world of hockey bros and ice rinks,” Sage griped.
“Yes, you clearly hate everything, which is why you are wearing your brand-new hoodie and drinking a beer.”
“Girl, it’s cold.”
“Girl, you didn’t need a hoodie with my boo’s name on it.”
“Um, like I’m not going to represent my favorite queen? As if.” They took a sip of beer to punctuate their point.
Mo shook his head but couldn’t stop smiling. He was so glad Sage had been able to join Mo for the Cascades’ first game—the first home game ever in Seattle.
With no ties left in Arizona, it only made sense for Mo to set up shop in the more liberal north.
Not that he would be opening his own business anytime soon, but in his job search, he’d come across Lez Be Honest Auto, a garage run by two married women who were in their sixties and looking to retire in a few years.
Now Mo was part of the business succession plan.
He and Adam had had a weeks-long argument about where Mo should live.
Mo wanted to stand on his own two feet for once and also not rush things.
Adam, who’d sold the place in Phoenix for a smaller, cozier vibe in Seattle, thought it was a waste of money to pay for two properties when Mo slept in Adam’s bed nine nights out of ten.
Finally, it came to a head when Adam pointed out the garage Mo planned to buy a few years down the road had an extra office and a kitchenette, and could Mo get Kayla and Jenni to agree to let him pay to put in a full bathroom, just in case?
Mo stared at him for a full five seconds and said, “Jesus Christ, they’re going to love you.”
But he wasn’t floating that idea past a pair of lesbians who’d U-Hauled in the eighties. He’d like to have some peace at work, ever. “The solution to me not putting in an equal share in this relationship can’t be you spending more money on me,” he said in frustration.
On the one hand, after his parents pulled the rug out from under him, the idea of living in a place he had no legal right to gave him heart palpitations.
On the other hand, if he didn’t accept a compromise, Adam was likely to propose next, so they agreed Adam could put a ridiculous sum of money into a bank account that Mo would never touch.
Adam wanted him to get therapy. When he first mentioned it, Mo had a slight overreaction and got very catty about how just because Adam had grown up with a family who loved him didn’t mean everyone who hadn’t needed therapy.
Adam had held his gaze until Mo heard what he’d said out loud and said, “Fine, I’ll look into it, but I’m paying for it myself. ”
A man had to have some pride, or something.
In the arena, the overhead lights dimmed and the spotlights flicked on, zooming over the ice in seemingly random patterns.
The loudspeaker came to life as the new voice of the Cascades announced, “And now the moment you’ve all been waiting for—Seattle fans, introducing tonight, officially, for the very first time—yourrrrrr Seattle Cascades! ”
The spotlights flashed purple. A curtain of fog rose on the ice.
One by one, the starting lineup was announced, and the players raced onto the ice.
The goaltender had just been introduced to riotous applause when the announcer said, “And finally, the captain—Adam Murphy!”
Mo’s eardrums protested as the stadium erupted in cheers. Adam came out with his stick raised in salute, pink-cheeked under his helmet, smiling sheepishly at the attention.
Next to Mo, Sage got to their feet and cupped their hands to their mouth. Embarrassing behavior, Mo thought, and then did the same when Sage kicked him.
After a moment of searching, Adam caught his eye and blew him a kiss.
“Oh my God,” Sage said. “A PDA from the captain. Wonders never cease.”
Why was Mo the one flushing now? This didn’t seem fair. “Shut up.” If several thousand people saw him blow a kiss back that was broadcast on national television—no, they didn’t.
The anthem played, and the teams lined up for puck drop.
Sage offered Mo a handful of popcorn. “So what are the odds on your man scoring tonight? And for once, I don’t mean in the bedroom.”
“Ah, well.” Mo cleared his throat and tried to keep his eyes on the game, even as he dug into the bag. “He’s pretty motivated. I told him if he does, we can get a puppy.”
Sage snorted. “Okay, Mr. Moving In Together Is Too Fast. How the turn tables.”
“Shut up,” Mo mumbled over a mouthful of popcorn.
“You can listen to it now or in my speech at your wedding,” Sage said sweetly. “Your choice.”
Mo didn’t know who they were kidding—he’d be hearing about it for the rest of his life.
He couldn’t wait.