Epilogue
Cooper
We manage to pull out a win in our next game.
Not much is said after, at least not in the way I expected. There’s no big speech or dramatic locker room moment when someone rallies the team. If anything, we’re quieter than usual.
Everyone knows what’s going on. Word travels fast around here, and it didn’t take long before people started putting the pieces together.
Coach Glasgow runs the pregame meeting instead. He doesn’t address the elephant in the room. Just goes through the usual things about staying focused and executing on our fundamentals. A couple of the guys crack jokes during warm-ups, like they’re trying to pull us back into our normal routine.
But you can still feel the shift underneath it.
Which is why the win matters.
It’s not flashy or anything we’ll remember years from now, but it’s one of those games that reminds you this team knows how to show up when it counts.
For me, more than anything, it just felt good to be back out there again.
By the time we’re back on the ice for practice a few days later, things feel steadier. Not exactly normal, but close enough.
I’m heading into the locker room, ready to peel my gear off, when someone clears their throat behind me.
“Rowden.”
I glance up to find Coach Glasgow standing near the doorway. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his jacket like he was waiting for me.
“Got a second?”
I nod. “Give me a few to peel this gear off, and I’ll be right there.”
He’s leaning against the wall when I step into the hall ten minutes later. He studies me for a second.
“How’s the shoulder feeling?”
“As good as new.”
“Good timing,” he says. “Playoffs are around the corner.”
“I’ll be ready,” I tell him.
He watches me for another second before exhaling slowly.
“You know,” he says, almost casually. “I thought the whole situation with that girl might throw you off your game more.”
I don’t say anything, and he keeps going.
“Story getting out the way it did. Media tends to run wild with things like that, and I know it tends to get into a player’s head.”
Something in my chest seizes. The way he says it doesn’t sound like speculation, it’s like he already knows what happened.
He shrugs slightly. “Blew up a little bigger than I expected, if I’m being honest.”
My jaw tightens. Why is he saying it like he expected a different outcome?
“But,” he adds, pushing off the wall, “it looks like everything worked out in the end.”
There’s a beat of silence between us.
I study his face, trying to read how much he knew and how much he had planned.
Was he behind the story being leaked?
How would he benefit from it getting out?
“Looks that way, doesn’t it?” I say finally.
He nods once.
“Good,” he says. “Because we’re going to need you.”
He turns and heads back in the direction of his office, like this conversation wasn’t anything more than a routine check-in. I stand there for a few minutes, piecing together everything that was said, trying to make sense of it all.
The locker room is noisy when I walk back in. Talon is in the middle of some story. Half the guys are laughing while Kade shakes his head at whatever nonsense he’s saying.
“What was that about?” Owen asks.
“Coach wanted a word,” I say, dropping in front of my stall.
Kade leans back in his chair. “Good news or bad?”
I pull my shirt over my head and toss it into my gear bag.
“I’ll tell you about it later.”
That gets their attention. Talon studies me like he’s trying to read into what it means, but the conversation shifts before anyone can push it further.
Greer’s stall is two spots down. They’ve already updated the plaque below his shelf with his name.
He’s leaning back against his stall when I glance over, chatting with the guys like he’s been here all season, laughing loud enough for half the room to hear.
He catches me looking and gives me a nod, and I nod back. That’s all he’s getting for now.
I’ve heard plenty about him. He has a reputation for playing dirty. Something tells me the rest of the season is about to get more interesting with him here too.
“What brought you to Rixton anyway? What’s with the transfer?” one of the guys asks.
It’s not confrontational and more out of curiosity than anything else. Transfers don’t usually happen this late in the season, not without a reason.
Greer shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“Personal,” he says.
“Well, that’s vague as hell.” One of the sophomore guys laughs, dragging his towel over his hair.
Greer just smiles, not rushing to fill in the blanks.
“It made sense,” he adds. “For me anyway.”
“For hockey?” Another guy presses.
He lifts his shoulder. “Life.”
A couple of guys groan.
“Okay, Mr. Philosopher,” someone mutters. “What changed?”
Greer glances around the room, like he’s enjoying the attention more than the question itself.
“I wanted to be closer to my fiancée.”
There’s a second where nobody reacts because it takes a second to register.
“Fiancée?” Talon echoes.
“Yeah,” Greer says casually. “The whole long-distance thing wasn’t working. I wanted to be closer to her.”
“All right. Well, now you have to tell us who,” Kade says. “You don’t get to drop that and just—”
Greer’s mouth curves like he’s enjoying this part.
“Atlee Rowden.”
The room doesn’t explode, but the air shifts immediately. I can feel every set of eyes slide from him to me. I’m halfway out of my gear, bent over my stall when I stop.
“Rowden?” someone repeats. “As in—”
“The fuck you just say?” I straighten, shoving my gloves on the bench.
The tension in the room turns sharp fast. Questions start firing from every direction—half of them some version of Rowdy’s sister and holy shit.
“What? You didn’t know?” Greer asks.
I don’t answer him. I step forward before I’ve fully thought through my next steps and shove him back.
He goes back hard, slamming into the stall behind him when I swing and land a punch against his jaw.
There’s no way this smug motherfucker is engaged to my sister and shows up here dropping a bomb like it’s nothing.
There’s no way I’d let this prick anywhere near my sister.
“Coop—”
“Whoa, whoa—”
Hands grab at my arms, pulling me away. Talon and Kade step between us, and I stand there, staring at him.
Greer pushes himself back up, using the back of his hand to wipe the blood dripping from his lip with a smile.
He doesn’t look pissed or embarrassed. The asshole just has the nerve to laugh.
Like this is exactly the reaction he expected.
And standing there watching him, something settles low in my gut.
Because if Macklin Greer came to Rixton for my sister… then this season just got a hell of a lot more complicated.
* * *
Thank you for reading The Blocks We Make!