Epilogue
Piper
Piper Quinn knew Emmett Novak was planning something because he had asked Tyler Donovan to behave naturally.
Tyler had responded by wearing a shirt that said NOTHING SUSPICIOUS IS HAPPENING.
It was the first warning.
The second was Beckett Monroe arriving at Lake Briar without a cape.
Piper stood near the main stage of the Summer Showdown opening weekend and watched him cross the lawn in ordinary shorts and a white T-shirt.
She narrowed her eyes.
Beckett stopped.
“What?”
“Where is the cape?”
“At home.”
“Why?”
He looked offended. “Am I not allowed to evolve?”
“No.”
“That feels restrictive.”
“You wore velvet to a beach cleanup.”
“The coastline needed dignity.”
Piper looked toward Tyler.
He was standing beside the livestream station with both hands visible and no microphone.
More suspicious.
Maren joined Piper near the stage carrying two iced coffees. “You are interrogating volunteers again.”
“I am observing abnormal behavior.”
“You have been dating a goalie for ten months. Suspicion is now a shared hobby.”
Piper accepted the coffee.
Across the lawn, children moved between skills stations beneath blue-and-gold banners for the Lake Briar First Shift Scholarship. The fund had begun as a ten-thousand-dollar reason for Piper to fake-date the wrong man.
It now covered equipment, registration, and travel for thirty-two young players.
Emmett had donated part of his first professional signing bonus.
Piper had donated a percentage from every Quinn Events contract.
Tyler had attempted to donate proceeds from unauthorized merchandise until Griffin explained that copyright infringement was not community service.
The shirts still existed.
Piper had three hidden in her closet.
The largest banner stretched above the main rink station.
FIRST SHIFT SUMMER OPENING
Below it, in much smaller lettering:
NO AUDIENCE VOTES.
Piper had approved that line personally.
Almost one year had passed since Vantage tried to turn her business, relationship, and clients into a live finale.
The company no longer existed under the same name.
Its domestic production division had been dissolved. Multiple civil cases remained active. Celeste Rowan was awaiting trial on charges connected to unlawful surveillance, extortion, evidence destruction, and data theft.
Owen had taken a plea agreement six months earlier.
Piper had not attended the hearing.
She had submitted a statement, answered every required question, and declined the opportunity to watch him explain why his choices should be understood inside the pressure he had been under.
Understanding was not the same as access.
She no longer gave him either.
Quinn Events had survived.
More than survived.
The rescheduled Summer Wedding Showcase sold out three weeks after the original date.
Every camera had been visible. Every guest had chosen whether to enter a recorded area.
Lily Arden had walked the ceremony platform in her wedding dress and told a room full of vendors that privacy should not be treated as a luxury upgrade.
Her wedding took place two months later.
Her father asked before giving advice.
Usually.
Piper had planned the event.
She had also eaten dinner while people watched.
Emmett sat beside her and stole half her dessert.
Progress came in strange forms.
Maren followed Piper’s attention toward the hockey stations.
“You are looking for him.”
“I know where he is.”
“Where?”
Piper pointed toward the portable goal near the far side of the lawn.
Emmett crouched beside Mason, who had grown approximately four feet since the previous summer and still wore a Ridgeview jersey large enough to reach his knees.
Emmett wore black shorts, a dark T-shirt, and a backward cap.
Professional hockey had not improved his relationship with color.
His first season had gone better than expected.
He began as the backup, earned more starts by December, and finished the year with a winning record and a contract extension that kept him with the same organization for two more seasons.
Six hours away.
Inconvenient.
Not impossible.
They had learned trains, early flights, shared calendars, and the exact number of arguments caused by assuming the other person understood a schedule that had never been discussed.
The number was nine.
Piper had counted.
Emmett rented an apartment with large windows.
He claimed this proved he liked natural light.
Piper maintained that she had selected the apartment.
Both statements were true.
She spent several days there every month. Emmett spent every available break at Lake Briar or Ridgeview. Quinn Events opened a small satellite office halfway between both cities after Piper discovered corporate clients preferred meeting near the airport.
Their relationship did not fit one location.
It fit because they planned it together.
Maren sipped her coffee. “He has checked the time six times.”
“Game schedule.”
“There is no game.”
“Clinic schedule.”
“Griffin is running it.”
Piper looked toward Griffin.
He stood beside the passing station with a whistle around his neck and the focused expression of a man supervising both children and teammates.
Tyler approached him.
Griffin removed the whistle before Tyler could touch it.
Reliable.
Piper looked back at Emmett.
He was watching her now.
The awareness arrived exactly as it had the first summer.
Immediate.
Quiet.
No camera required.
He raised one eyebrow.
Piper lifted her coffee.
His mouth moved.
Then Mason grabbed Emmett’s arm and pulled his attention back toward the goal.
Maren smiled. “You still do that.”
“What?”
“Find each other in every crowd.”
Piper looked at her friend.
Maren stood beneath the summer sun with Griffin’s sunglasses tucked into the front of her shirt and a ring on her left hand. Ava and Nate were near the registration table, arguing about whether their toddler needed a miniature hockey stick.
The Summer Girls, Hockey Boys experiment had produced more long-term consequences than anyone expected.
Piper preferred consequences with catering.
“Is Emmett proposing today?” she asked.
Maren choked on her coffee.
Interesting.
Piper waited.
Maren recovered with excessive care. “Why would you ask that?”
“Tyler has no microphone.”
“Griffin threatened him.”
“Beckett has no cape.”
“He is evolving.”
“You are a terrible liar.”
“I am not lying.”
“You blink slower.”
“That is not a thing.”
“It is now.”
Maren looked toward the stage.
Piper followed her gaze.
A small table had been placed beside the closing-event supplies. On it sat six folded cards.
Piper’s pulse changed.
The original bet had begun with envelopes.
Emmett knew better than to recreate that publicly.
Probably.
She looked at Maren again.
“What are the cards?”
“Volunteer assignments.”
“There are no names outside.”
“Privacy.”
“Maren.”
A whistle shrieked from the rink station.
Every child turned.
So did Piper.
Griffin held the whistle.
Tyler stood beside him looking innocent.
“Final relay,” Griffin announced. “Then scholarship presentation.”
The crowd moved toward the main station.
Maren touched Piper’s arm. “Go do your job.”
“That sounded like a diversion.”
“It is literally your event.”
Piper stepped onto the stage.
The next twenty minutes moved normally.
Too normally.
She thanked the sponsors. She introduced the scholarship recipients. She handed Mason a certificate for completing his first year of competitive youth hockey.
He held it against his chest and looked toward Emmett.
“Now?”
Emmett nodded.
Piper heard it.
She looked between them.
Mason reached into his jersey and removed a foam puck.
Of course.
He held it toward Piper.
Black marker covered the front.
DATE THIRTY.
Piper looked at Emmett.
He stood several feet away with both hands inside his pockets.
The crowd began reacting.
Not loudly.
A ripple of recognition moved through the people who remembered the first foam puck Mason had delivered.
Piper crouched beside him.
“What is date thirty?”
Mason looked toward Emmett again.
Emmett shook his head once.
Mason corrected himself.
“I am not allowed to explain. It is private.”
Piper’s heart turned over.
“Very good boundary.”
“My mom helped.”
“Your mom remains wise.”
Mason ran back toward the other children.
Piper stood.
The crowd waited.
Emmett walked onto the stage.
He did not take the microphone.
Tyler made a distressed sound near the livestream table.
Griffin pointed at him.
Tyler remained silent.
Emmett stopped beside Piper.
“Ready?” he asked.
“For what?”
“Date thirty.”
“Why thirty?”
“We completed six dates from the fake agreement.”
“We did.”
“Then twenty-four real ones.”
Piper looked down at the puck.
“You counted?”
“Yes.”
“You remember everything.”
“Not everything.”
“Inaccurate.”
His eyes softened.
The audience continued watching.
Emmett looked toward them.
Then back at Piper.
“This part is not for them.”
He held out his hand.
Piper took it.
They left the stage together.
No announcement.
No explanation.
No audience vote.
Behind them, Griffin began the closing thank-you speech while Tyler whispered loudly that unresolved narrative tension was harmful to engagement.
Emmett led Piper past Brennan’s cabins and along the narrow path toward the old dock.
Four lanterns waited on the weathered boards.
Piper stopped at the top of the steps.
“You have a limited visual vocabulary.”
“It is consistent branding.”
“You hate branding.”
“I have adjusted.”
The blanket was there.
So was dinner from Morrow’s.
Two cups of hot chocolate waited beside the edge despite the July heat.
Piper looked at him.
“It is eighty-two degrees.”
“You complained when I forgot them on date nineteen.”
“That was January.”
“You value tradition.”
“I value temperature awareness.”
Emmett stepped onto the dock.
Piper followed.
No security team swept the space now.
No legal staff waited behind the cabins.
The only camera belonged to a family on a boat halfway across the lake, and they were photographing a dog wearing goggles.
Piper sat on the blanket.
Emmett handed her the food.
She opened it.
Her regular order.
Of course.
For several minutes, date thirty was chicken on wood.