Nathan’s Epilogue
Nathan’s Epilogue
Three Years Later
There are very few places in the world where I feel out of my element.
Between NHL arenas and press rooms, I’ve learned how to carry scrutiny and attention without letting it crush me.
If anything, over the past three years, it’s only gotten louder, more relentless, but even still, it doesn’t rattle me anymore.
This, though, is something else entirely. I’m halfway across the world in one of the largest stadiums I’ve ever seen. It’s completely sold out, with the kind of crowd that makes even my biggest games feel small by comparison. The roar is loud enough that it feels like it could carry for miles.
I tug at the hem of my jersey, trying to mask my nerves, reminding myself that it’s Miller stretched across my shoulders, not Wilder. Somehow, that makes it worse, not better. I have no reason to be this anxious on her behalf, and yet, here I am anyway.
The roar of the fans in the stands pulses overhead as I creep through the tunnel Wesley pointed out to me yesterday. I’m not supposed to be here, but even the World Cup can’t stand in the way of our pre-game traditions.
For the past three years, every game I’ve attended has started like this, with Wesley sneaking out of the locker room to find me. It started because we couldn’t seem to keep our hands off each other, and if I’m being honest, not much has changed.
So, World Cup rules be damned.
I try to look like I belong as I pace the hallway. Just as I’m about to give up, thinking we’ve missed our window, the door finally opens.
My beautiful wife squeals and bolts straight into my arms. I don’t hesitate, scooping her up and spinning her with equal enthusiasm.
It’s the kind of excitement that refuses to be contained, which makes sense considering it’s the World Cup Final and the U.S. is favored to bring home the win.
Once I get her feet back on the ground, I give her a slow once-over. Her hair is pulled into her signature game braid, her jersey already tucked in, shin guards strapped on and ready. Some people love it when their wives dress up, but I love mine like this.
There is nothing sexier than seeing Wesley ready to go kick ass on that field. It’s a shame we’re not at Harborlight Stadium, or I could try my luck sneaking her off to our custodial closet to remind her just how hot she is when she’s focused.
“You’re looking at me like I’m a snack,” Wesley teases, her eyes bright with excitement.
“You’re the whole damn meal.” I wiggle my eyebrows playfully.
“You’re ridiculous.”
She wraps her arms around my neck, hugging me tight, and while she’s at it, she taps my back right where her name sits. “My name looks good up here.”
“Well, considering you wouldn’t take mine when we got married, it’ll have to do.”
I’m just egging her on. I knew from the moment we started doing this thing for real that Wesley would always be her own person. Taking my last name, for a woman building her own legacy in her sport, was never in the cards. It’s just one more reason I love her.
My hands find her waist as she pulls back to look at me.
Her voice drops to barely a whisper. “Can you believe this?” The words come quickly, tumbling out of her. “Like, actually, can you believe I’m here right now?”
I don’t even hesitate.
“Yeah,” I say, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “I can.”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s a softness there. “Of course you can.”
“I’ve been telling you that since we met,” I remind her. “You want something, Wes? You go get it. Every time.”
Her expression shifts just slightly, something quieter threading through the excitement.
“We’re both good at that, huh?” She says, nudging me. “Mr. Stanley Cup champion.”
My chuckle is loud enough that a security guard glances our way, and we both instinctively step closer to the wall like that’ll somehow make us less noticeable.
A month ago, the Blades brought home the Stanley Cup. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still riding that high. When Wesley wins today, too, my ego might just explode.
She’s shifting on her feet now, adrenaline and nerves fighting for control, both looking for somewhere to land.
I take her face in my hands. “You’ve got this.”
Then I kiss her. She melts into me instantly, her arms wrapping around my neck as she pulls me closer.
We move together like we always do, lips parting as we tease each other, the kiss playful and charged, mirroring the same excitement buzzing through both of us as we stand on the edge of everything she’s dreamt of.
The kiss is too short, but considering she’s already given me more time than she should, I force myself to pull back.
“Did our families find their seats okay?” She asks, adjusting the captain’s band on her arm.
“Yeah. Emma and Delaney are what they’re calling ‘boy-hunting.’” I throw up air quotes and laugh.
“What does that even mean?”
“You’re the woman. You tell me.” I give her a pointed look.
“When I was twenty-two, I’d already sworn off men.”
I smirk. “Must’ve taken a really hot, amazing guy to get you back in the game.”
Instead of teasing me back, she leans in sincerely, placing one last quick kiss on my lips. “The hottest. Also, the best man I’ve ever met. I love you.”
“I love you, Wes.”
The crowd surges louder, signaling the start of something big and the end of our pre-game ritual.
Wesley turns toward the door, and I swat her ass as she goes, because some things never change. She still has the best ass I’ve ever seen.
I race back out to the stands, not wanting to miss a single second. Once I find our families, I slide into my seat.
It didn’t take long after Wesley and I got together for my parents to come around. They still don’t agree with all my choices, but they’ve learned to accept them. Wesley helped, but I think it had more to do with them finally seeing me happy in a way I never had been before.
I always thought hockey was enough. And for a while, it was. But having Wesley? That’s what made everything brighter. Better.
They still wish we’d settle down and have kids. And we will, eventually. But neither of us is ready to walk away from our sports yet, so for now, it’s just something we have tucked away for the future.
“How’d she seem?” Wesley’s dad leans over, raising his voice over the noise.
Even with my parents around more, I’m closest to him. Once he moved to Boston, I found myself sitting beside him more often than not, watching games, grabbing beers, and filling the quiet when Wesley was away.
I’ve never had to earn his approval. He’s never cared about anything I bring to the table except how I love his daughter.
“Like she’s ready to win.”
“That’s our girl.”
A grin pulls at my mouth as I watch her take her place on the field as if she owns it.
Because she does.
And if anyone out there still doesn’t believe that?
They’re about to learn.
For the next ninety minutes, I watch the love of my life take everything she’s ever worked for and make it hers.
She’s a World Cup champion and a damn good soccer player. A leader. A force. An inspiration. The best thing to ever happen to me. The brightest star wherever she goes.
A woman like her will always find a way to get everything she wants.
How lucky am I that she wanted me?