22. Epilogue Grant
Chapter twenty-two
Epilogue: Grant
Three months later, Laurie stands near the glass in the lower section, laughing at something Marianne just said. She's wearing the Outlaws jacket I gave her three weeks ago.
She doesn't fidget with her phone or scan the crowd nervously. She leans into my shoulder, points at the ice where the players are warming up, and grins when one of them waves at Bethany two rows back.
The anthem plays. The puck drops.
Shane's out there tonight. Third line, fourth shift rotation. He takes a hit along the boards, recovers clean, clears the zone.
Steady.
Not perfect. Not healed. But housed. Supported. No longer slipping through the cracks while everyone looked the other way.
Laurie helped do that.
The lodge works now.
Between periods, a donor stops me in the corridor outside the box. Gerald something. Deep pockets, loud opinions, too much cologne.
"Grant." He claps my shoulder. "Heard you are finally seriously dating that lovely woman. Well done."
I used to deflect these moments. Redirect. Control the narrative before it controlled me.
Now I just nod.
"Thank you. I'm a fortunate man."
Gerald laughs, says something about smart investments, and moves on.
***
The final buzzer sounds. Outlaws win, 3-2.
I navigate the post-game crowd—handshakes, congratulations, the choreographed chaos of a franchise operating at full speed—and find Laurie waiting near the corridor where we almost kissed months ago.
She's alone this time. Bethany left already. The crowd thins around us.
I frame her face with both hands. Tilt her chin up.
"I love you, Laurie Bennett."
"I know." She smiles. "You told that reporter you were fortunate."
"It was a donor."
"Even more serious."
I kiss her again, because I can. Because no lie hangs between us. Because no one's watching, and even if they were, I wouldn't care.
Her hands link behind my neck, fingers curling into my collar. She tastes like the overpriced hot chocolate and there is something warmer underneath—contentment. Trust.
Home.
When we pull apart, she's breathless.
"Take me to the lodge?"
"Why?"
"Because Shane texted Bethany that the dishwasher's making a weird noise again, and apparently I'm the only person in Colorado who knows how to troubleshoot appliances without calling a repair service at midnight."
I laugh. Actually laugh. "You want to fix Shane's dishwasher."
"I want to make sure your investment property doesn't flood." She pokes my chest. "You're welcome."
"Marry me." I pull out a ring. This time it's from Tiffany's and in a blue box instead of the black box of the merch stand.
Laurie goes still.
"Grant."
"Not tonight. I'm not pressing you for an answer right now.
" I catch her hand, press my thumb against her pulse.
"But please, marry me. Marry me because I love you and I want every night to end like this—you fixing dishwashers, me watching you make impossible things work, both of us coming home to the same place. "
Her eyes shine.
"That's the least romantic proposal I've ever heard."
"Is it working?"
"Yes, you impossible man. Yes."