Epilogue Dominic
Epilogue
Dominic
“Who’s gonna kick the Hawks’ asses this time?” Sabine calls out through the locker room.
“We are!” the chorus of guys answers.
“Especially Honey’s,” Pacholek says, holding up a fist to Sabine. They bump, ready to hit the ice with power, focus, and aggression.
Tonight is a redemption game for us all. Last time we played the Hawks, we were still figuring our shit out. Now, we’re solid. Well, I’ll say 90 percent solid, with that last bit being Anderson. He’s still getting on board with the whole brotherhood thing, but he’s a work in progress.
Now that Coach is growing and the team dynamic is shifting to something healthier, better, and fuller .
. . Anderson is finally shifting too. It’s a gradual process, especially since he’s not prone to sharing his feelings, claiming he doesn’t have any—other than annoyance with me when I start up the team’s theme song, “Don’t Stop Believin’.
” But I’ve seen him bobbing his head a little, so I think he secretly likes it, though he’d never admit it.
Or maybe it’s just that it’s a catchy tune?
He might be a tougher nut to crack than Kipson was, but I’ll do it eventually. One day soon, we’re gonna be trading friendship bracelets, I just know it. He’ll probably give me one that says “Fuck Off,” but I’ll know he means Love you, bro.
“Hey, Lavoie,” Bill says, “your girl is sitting with my wife, right?”
Lavoie nods. “Yeah, Rozalnie put everyone together, I think.”
Rozalnie is one of the team’s interns, whose unofficial job description includes the superfun duty of acting as WAG coordinator.
It became a necessity when guys wanted their wives and girlfriends to come to games.
We’ve had parents and kids too. Well, Harley.
So far, I’m the only Blizzard player with a kid that comes to games.
“Briar, Harley, Penny, and my parents are with them too,” I interject as I wrap fresh tape around my stick. The thought of all my favorite people sitting together in the stands, watching me play, is a big motivator. We’re gonna crush this game.
We’re gonna beat the Hawks, I can feel it.
“Bring it in, guys,” Coach shouts. He’s still a yeller. It’s how he motivates and how he hypes us up, so we are very familiar with his red-faced, vein-popping pep talks. But now, he’s just as likely to spit out good hustle as he is What the fuck was that? The balance is appreciated.
We crowd around him, ready to hear him out.
“Tonight’s game is a big one,” he starts. “I’ve asked you to play your guts out every single time you take the ice, but tonight, I’m asking for something more. I want you to play your heart out. Leave it all out there.”
“No regerts!” Kipson adds, and we all chuckle.
He’s doing well now too. He and Sofia didn’t get back together, but they’ve had a couple of good conversations and finally have some closure on what went wrong for them.
For now, she’s staying in Nebraska, and ironically, he’s focusing more on hockey.
He’s not ready to date again, and probably won’t be for a while, but he’s better, which is all we can hope for.
He’s definitely a mission complete, and I’ve decided I’m out of the business of saving idiot hockey players from themselves.
Coach turns hard eyes to Kipson. “You can’t joke your way into winning against a team like the Hawks, so get serious.”
“Yes, Coach,” Kipson barks, instantly sobering.
Glaring around the room, Coach meets each of our eyes, one by one. “Tonight’s going to be hard. There’s no doubt about it. But you are harder. You’re tougher. You’re rougher. You’re winners, so get out there and fucking win!”
“Yes, Coach,” we yell back, amped up.
Grabbing our gear, we’re lining up to hit the ice for warm-ups and Anderson hangs back. “Lee.”
Rolling my eyes, I tell him, “Don’t worry. Kipson and I will help protect the house this time.” Last time we played the Hawks, Anderson was left out to dry and nearly tanked himself out blocking dozens of shots with minimal defensive assistance.
“You’d better,” he orders harshly. He glances past me and I look back, not seeing anyone. For a second, I wonder if he’s about to sneak attack me, but then he says, “Uh, that’s not what I was gonna say.”
I look at him expectantly, waiting for him to spit it out.
He sighs heavily. “Everyone going to O’Neal’s after the game?”
I blink, surprised he’s even aware of that despite it being in the team group chat. “Yeah.”
“You think I could come?” he asks hesitantly. “I want to apologize to Briar for the shit I tried to start.”
I cock my head, my jaw tight. “What. Shit?”
His eyes widen, looking at me like he hopes to hell that I’m kidding. When I don’t laugh, he hisses, “Fuck. She really didn’t tell you?”
I shake my head slowly. Whatever Anderson said, I already don’t like it.
“First, I’m sorry.” I arch a brow, needing him to get to the rest of it faster. “Second, it was a while ago. I told her about the fuck-marry-kill thing.”
“Oh. She already knew about that. I told her.”
He laughs, nodding meaningfully. “I know. She told me that too. Right after I told her that you picked her to marry and your whole thing was a ploy to get back at Coach.”
“You told her What?”
He holds his hands out, stopping me, when I didn’t even realize that I’d taken a step his direction. “She didn’t believe me. Not a bit. Said you picked her to fuck and that you did, so you won the game anyway. And so did she.” He frowns distastefully, like Briar liking fucking me irritates him.
I grin, thinking that doesn’t exactly sound like Briar.
But in some ways, it does sound just like her.
“So you’re telling me that you learned nothing from fucking up Kipson’s marriage and tried to follow that by fucking up my relationship with Briar?
” I clarify, my voice low and on the edge of threatening.
He sighs. “Yeah, and I want to apologize. So can I come tonight?”
I eye him carefully, but I see nothing but regret and genuine sorrow on his face.
“Yeah, man. You’re welcome to come. You’re always welcome to come.
Just don’t fuck with Briar or Harley. Or Penny or Griffin.
Or my parents. Or probably any of the guys’ women.
” I pause, thinking to make sure I covered everyone. “But yeah, you can come.”
He swallows as though asking was the hardest thing he’s ever done. Fuck, it might be.
“Thanks.”
I feel it—the official start of phase two of my work here. Which will have to continue after we beat the Hawks.
And later, I’m gonna ask Briar why she didn’t tell me about Anderson’s cruel play. Though I already know the answer—she didn’t believe him.
She trusted me because she loves me. And I love her.
As I skate around, warming up, I find her and Harley sitting with the rest of my family. “Hey!” I shout, but her eyes are already mine. She waves both hands at me, her smile wide. “I love you!”
“Love you, too, Albie!”
“Who’s Albie?” I see my mom ask, her brows wrinkled in confusion.
Penny laughs, telling Mom, “I’ll explain later.”
They don’t get it, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that Briar and I understand the importance of patience. And most of all, we understand how precious our love is, how special our family is.
This is my home now, here with Briar and Harley and with the Blizzard, and I couldn’t be happier.