Chapter 22 Epilogue - Bryce
Chapter twenty-two
Epilogue- Bryce
Afew months later…
If you'd asked me months ago whether I'd be standing in a locker room half-naked, drenched in champagne, and not even pretending to be pissed about it, I would’ve told you to get drug tested.
But here I am.
A playoff win under our belt. Round One dominated. Nashville Outlaws are charging toward the Cup.
Dex is whooping loud enough to wake the dead, Eli is sprint-sliding across the tile in his socks banging into everything, Gabriel is chugging from the bottle like it's holy water, and Colby is shaking up champagne like he's about to baptize the media crew.
Coach Hale is pretending to be annoyed, but the man’s grin is splitting his face in half. Cameras flash. Reporters yell. Pandemonium reigns.
And right in the middle of it... Erwin Hacker, billionaire owner of the Outlaws, stands soaked, his suit ruined, hair plastered to his forehead like someone dumped him into the hydro tank.
The mic hits my chest before I can dodge.
“Bryce Blackhorn! Two goals tonight, one assist. How’s it feel to take Round One and move closer to the Cup?”
Champagne trails down my jaw. I wipe it with the back of my hand.
“Feels like winning never gets old. Look at that! Vargas just tried to butterfly-save a champagne cork, so yeah, vibes are high.”
Eli throws both hands up like he just won a Grammy. “Hey, anything airborne is my jurisdiction.”
Laughter cracks the room open. Reporters lean in.
Then everything stops.
Because Annabelle walks in.
Hair curled, Outlaws jersey draped over her shoulders, confidence in her stride. She dodges a flying cork like she trains for this mayhem. Someone whistles. Someone else drops a camera.
My heart just fucking launches.
I move toward her without thinking.
I wrap my arm around her waist, pull her in tight so there's no question, so the world hears it.
"This is my girlfriend." I say to the reporter.
The locker room explodes.
Dex yells, "ABOUT DAMN TIME!"
Eli shakes champagne at us like ship christening. "Someone get these two a towel... or a room!"
"Pretty sure they don't need a room. Bryce lives dangerously." Gabriel adds.
Colby chest bumps Dex with zero aim. They both crash into a stall laughing.
Annabelle blushes and grins up at me. "Girlfriend?"
I kiss her. Slow. Public. Proud.
Camera shutters go wild.
Erwin Hacker steps forward, shaking champagne off his Rolex.
"Well," he says loudly, "as long as you keep winning games, and maybe stop traumatizing my PR team, I suppose I approve."
Reporters laugh. Teammates howl. Someone spills beer on Erwin. He sighs like a disappointed CEO but doesn’t move away.
He holds out his hand. I grip it. Firm. Unwavering.
"You take care of my daughter."
"I do. I will. Every day."
He studies me for a beat that could break a weaker man. Then nods. "Good. I like you more when you're winning."
Oh, he's definitely Annabelle’s father.
Coach Hale shouts over the chaos, "Blackhorn! Team photo! Bring the girl; she earned this one too!"
I look at Annabelle. She smiles like she owns every inch of me. "Let's go," she says.
We join the guys. Champagne rain. Towels snapping. Laughter like victory. I pull her flush against my side as the photographer counts down.
Three. Two. One. Flash.
Annabelle and I kiss again and it's caught perfectly in the shot.
A moment frozen. A beginning.
The Cup is ahead. Season is still alive. Future is bright. And her, my peace in the turmoil.
I’ve never been more sure.
As reporters peel away and the team keeps celebrating, Annabelle leans up on her toes and whispers in my ear, low enough that only I hear it.
“Champagne’s fun,” she purrs, lips brushing my jaw, “but I can think of better things to pour on you later.”
My brain stops. My body doesn’t.
Dex shouts across the room, “Relax, love birds, this is hockey, not The Bachelor! Save the rose ceremony for later.
“Yeah, Dex, and you'll be the one ugly-crying at the reunion episode." I chirp back.
Eli loses his mind laughing. Gabriel spit-takes his beer. Colby falls off a bench. Coach Hale mutters something about needing holy water.
Annabelle laughs into my shoulder, that soft, breathy sound that ruined me from day one. In the middle of champagne, sweat, loud teammates, and blinding lights, I feel stupidly, painfully lucky.
The guys catch my expression and immediately lose their minds.
Dex: "BETTER PRACTICE YOUR BEST MAN SPEECHES, BOYS!"
Eli: "SHOTGUN OFFICIANT! I’LL brING THE RINGS, OR LIKE… THE BAGELS!"
Gabriel: "CALLING IT NOW: BABY BLACKHORN WILL SKATE BEFORE HE WALKS!"
Colby: "SOMEONE START A POLL ON WHEN THEY GET ENGAGED!"
Commotion. Sweat. Champagne. The kind of happiness I didn’t think existed for me.
Annabelle kisses my jaw, and whispers, "Whatever comes next… I’m in. Every bit of it."
And just like that, I know...
No matter what happens on the ice, no matter how far we go this season, she’s my home team.
I lift her hand and press a kiss to her knuckles. "Let’s go win the whole damn thing."
Round Two is coming. The Cup is calling. And I’m done chasing victories alone.
Hockey gives me purpose.
Annabelle gives me everything else.