Epilogue
Poppy
“I need another, Pop!” Tommy shouts, and I chuckle.
Because some things never change.
Even if the place I’m bartending at isn’t Sully’s.
The Home Ice Classic is beginning in less than an hour and Cedar Hollow Ice Center is packed.
Excitement buzzes in the air, and the party has spilled out onto Main Street, which is closed to cars for the occasion.
Blossom expanded her typical craft fair into a festival-like atmosphere, lining the road with booths selling everything from Hawks jerseys to this year’s commemorative goose, Terrance.
Music plays. Bubbles fill the air. Trinkets are bought. Faces are painted—
“Honk!”
Gerald steals the occasional scoop of ice cream.
But mostly, everyone is well-behaved.
And since tickets are sold out and the ice center is at capacity, Clem had the brilliant idea to set up a watch party at the Cedar Hollow Beach.
That’s busy too, a big screen set up on the sand while people eat and play volleyball and float in the river.
I squirt some soda water into a glass, fill another with a lager and hand Tommy and Roger their drinks so they can go off and join the festivities.
“Can I get Two Home Ices?” a woman asks, and I grin.
The signature cocktail I came up with on a whim a few days ago has been selling like hot cakes—it’s just a whiskey lemonade with honey, mint, and a splash of soda water.
But as the summer sun beats down and the crowd grows, it’s the perfect refreshment.
According to me, anyway.
“All right,” I hear after I serve another dozen (or maybe two) patrons with sodas and slushies, Home Ices and Cedar Hollow Kisses.
“All right what?” I ask, turning to Clem who is in full planning mode, complete with a clipboard and an earpiece connected to a walkie talkie.
“You’re relieved,” she says, checking off something on her board.
“Relieved from what?”
“Serving.” She looks up, hitches her head to the side. “Game time, Pop. Get that cute butt of yours inside.”
“I thought I was serving through the first period.”
“You thought wrong,” Cassie says, stepping by Clem and nudging me out of the way as she ties her apron around her middle.
“But what about you?” I ask. “I thought you wanted to watch the game.”
“I’m fine.”
“But—”
She looks at Clem. “Time for the big guns.”
Clem taps her earpiece. “Already on it.”
“What—”
“Mom!” Holly suddenly appears out of nowhere. “We need to go before we miss it!”
I narrow my eyes at Clem. “You play dirty.”
“And you need to actually play,” she says. “Too much work makes Poppy a boring girl.”
“First, Storm makes sure that doesn’t happen. Second”—I hug Cassie, who’s already taking an order, and buss Clem on the cheek—“pot meet kettle.”
She just grins as Holly drags me away and in through the doors of the rink.
The players are on the ice, skating circles and passing and shooting, doing whatever hockey things they do to warm up.
But they’re coming to the glass just as much—smiling for pictures, tossing pucks over in exchange for candy and stuffed toys (though Smitty is staying far, far away from the stuffed geese…
and for some odd reason, a plush wombat).
One lucky fan gets a signed stick from Brit Plantain, the first female goalie in the league.
She’s fully retired now, and just gave birth to her first baby a few months back, but she somehow was roped into manning one of the nets, and her husband, Stefan, is playing defense in front of her.
They been joined by a few others from the Gold, including Calle Stevens who’s going to coach the away team’s bench.
The Eagles crew—Rome, King, Rhodes, West, Huddy, and Cam—and half the Grizzlies contingent—Gray, Aiden, Smitty—are rounding out the visitor’s side.
And for the home team?
The Hawks are represented heavily—Storm, Shep, Ace, Clarke, Griff, and Wilder are all in attendance along with the rest of the Grizzlies—Leo, Ryan, and Sawyer—but it’s the Sierra who have actually provided another large group.
Lake Jordan, Riggs, Knox, Bear, and Colt are all playing.
And managing the bench is…Coach Joey.
She and Damon have been back to Cedar Hollow once since that night they imbibed in too many Cedar Hollow Kisses, bringing the Sierra crew and their spouses and kids with them, and though peace has been made and the past put aside, things aren’t exactly comfortable.
Though, Holly’s in heaven, having met and immediately befriended Ivy’s daughter, Evie.
Holly, Evie, Chloe, and Brit’s adopted daughter, Roxie—now deemed the fearsome foursome—have been running amok, creating chaos and battling it out with mini sticks and balls, and distributing cuteness, all while wearing flower crowns interlaced with glittery ribbons.
Quite the combo.
“Come on, Mom!” Holly says, dragging me forward again. I pause in my assessment of my man, tabling my need to make sure he’s not uncomfortable with all the attention of the day and the presence of the Sierra and Coach Joey.
Mostly I can do this because he looks relaxed as he, Knox, and Joey all gather near the home bench talking.
His smile is easy.
His shoulders aren’t tense.
I move toward the bleachers, start to climb them, heading for my and Holly’s seats, but before I get more than a couple of steps, sticks start tapping on the ice, and Holly tugs at my hand again.
“Mom!” she stage whispers.
“We should sit down, baby girl. The game’s about to start.”
“Mom!” Another tug, fiercer this time.
I turn back. “What—?” But the rest of my question stoppers up in my throat when I process what I’m seeing—the door to the ice open, Storm standing there, his gaze on me.
“We have a surprise for you,” Holly says, hopping from foot to foot.
Clover plunks a flower crown on my head, nudges me toward the ice. “Go on, Pop.”
On shaky legs—and acutely aware of the multitude of eyes on me—I walk over to the man who owns my heart.
“What are you doing?” I ask as I reach him, placing my hand in his upturned gloved one.
He winks at me. “Finally giving Cedar Hollow something worth talking about.”
“I—”
He bends, kisses me…and then suddenly I’m in his arms and the crowd is whooping, the cool air whipping through my hair as we move across the ice.
A moment later, we’re stopping and he’s setting me on my feet.
“Figured this was easier than making you put on skates again,” he teases.
“And safer for everyone else,” I say, my lips curving as I look around. “So, this is what you see, huh?” The crowd seems somehow both bigger and smaller at the same time—like there are more eyes on us but also like they’re farther away.
I wonder if Storm feels the same when he’s surrounded by twenty-thousand-plus fans.
“What’s it like—?” I begin as I glance back.
Then freeze, my mouth dropping open.
The crowd begins to murmur, all those eyes laser focused on me, on Storm—
Who’s now kneeling at center ice.
For a second, he just stares at me.
“What are you doing?” I hiss.
“Living,” he says, his eyes bright with emotion as Shep skates over in a flash and deposits something in his hand.
No. Not something.
A small velvet box.
“Storm,” I rasp, tears clogging my throat.
He opens the box, shows me the most beautiful diamond ring I’ve ever seen. The center stone sparkles and is surrounded by gray sapphires.
For Holly.
For him.
He takes my hand in his, holds tight. “I had this whole speech planned and…” A shake of his head.
“Somehow it doesn’t feel right now. Not with you here in front of me, not with our future all around us.
” His fingers squeeze mine. “I spent most of the last decade running. Leaving. Shutting down. Hiding from the past.”
I inhale shakily.
“I used to think that coming back here would remind me of the past, that it would turn me into a person I didn’t want to be.” He smiles. “But the truth is, coming home to Cedar Hollow gave me everything I never knew I was missing.”
My breath rushes out of me. “Honey—”
“It gave me Holly.” He smiles at our daughter, who waves excitedly from the open door. “And”—a squeeze—“it gave me you. But it’s you who gave me a family, baby,” he whispers, those gray eyes going glassy with tears. “You who made me want to stay.”
A tear slips down my cheek.
He wipes it away. “I love you, Poppy Baker. Will you marry me?”
I open my mouth.
“She says yes!” Holly shouts.
Laughter rings out all around us, but most beautiful of all is Storm’s.
I touch his jaw, turn to our daughter, holler back, “I was getting there, baby girl!”
“You were taking forever!”
More laughter, but I’m already dropping to my knees in front of Storm, taking his face in my hands, and kissing him until the laughter fades and the stick-tapping and whoops take over.
Only then do I draw back.
“Is that a yes?” he asks lightly.
I grin. “Oh, it’s so a yes.”
Then he’s slipping the ring on my finger and kissing me senseless and scooping me into his arms again so I can be safely deposited off the ice.
“I like the jersey, Poppyseed,” he says as I find my feet.
I grin at him, tug lightly at the hem of the Harrisburg Hawks jersey that bears his last name and number. “Had it in the back of my closet,” I tease as I lean closer, my whisper for his ears only. “Right beside the red bikini.”
He touches my cheek as I step back. “You’ll pay for that later.”
“Good,” I tell him. “Because I’m looking forward to a whole lifetime of laters.”
Clover
The excitement still reverberates through the arena long after the final buzzer.
Chants demanding that Storm and Poppy kiss are punctuated by congratulations and animated breakdowns of the best plays of the game.
Unmatched saves by Brit Plantain.
Crazy dekes by Lake Jordan.
Insane passes by Gray Roberts.
Killer shots by…
Shepherd Hall.
I exhale, ignoring the heat that blooms in my belly just by me thinking his name as a ball rolls by my feet, sending a gaggle of kids shrieking after it. I step back, but it’s impossible to escape the chaos.
Players sign autographs near the boards and pose for pictures.
Storm is giving an interview near the locker rooms, Holly and Poppy tucked close to his sides.