Epilogue
Lindsay
The smells and sounds of summer hit me as I walked out the patio door—sunshine-warmed grass, meat-scented smoke, beers being cracked open, and birds chirping. The door slid open seconds after I closed it, and Whitney and Hudson stepped outside, a cooler of drinks between them.
We were cheating a little—it wasn’t quite summer, but it was low seventies and the last week of the semester. We’d been studying like crazy for finals and we all desperately needed a break.
My gaze skipped from Beck and Lyla to Megan and Dane, and then moved past them and landed on where it could linger forever.
Ryder “Ox” Maddox sat in a lawn chair, a beer bottle dangling from his hand, the bill of his hat pulled down far enough to cover his eyes. He appeared to be taking a nap, although I wasn’t sure how he possibly could with all the racket. He was more relaxed these days, quiet in the way that meant he was content instead of bottling everything up. We’d had dinner with his parents last week, which hadn’t been one of his relaxing moments, but we’d made it through, and they were trying to accept me just like I was still trying to accept them.
Neither were happy about the upcoming move to New Jersey, especially after our team had won the Frozen Four Tournament and become NCAA National Champions for the second year in a row—why wouldn’t you want to stay with your team after a season like that, his father had demanded before adding You’re going to blow your chance to play for the NHL, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
I didn’t dare tell anyone I wasn’t excited about it, either. That the closer the moving date got, the more I dreaded leaving, which was why I’d done something crazy a couple of weeks ago. I’d been too scared to tell Ryder about what I’d done, or to even speak of it with anyone for fear it wouldn’t work out.
Now I had a huge decision to make, and I needed him to help me make it.
I walked up to his chair and leaned over him, gripping the armrests for support.
“Blocking my sun,” he muttered, and then he tipped up his head, peering at me from underneath the brim of his hat. That killer smile of his spread across his lips. He spun his hat around so the bill faced backward, then he grabbed my arm and tugged me onto his lap.
“Oh, I thought I was blocking your sun. I’d hate for you to not get your tan.” I shifted like I was going to bail, and he wrapped his arms around my middle, holding me in place.
He kissed my neck. “I thought you were Kowalski.”
I cleared my throat and did my best imitation of a dude voice. “Bro. How can you even think that?”
“I heard that,” Dane said, pointing the spatula in his hand at me.
Everyone laughed, and I sank back into Ryder’s embrace.
“Ready for your math final?” he asked.
“I better be. My tutor’s been working overtime to get me ready. I’m actually a little sore from all the acrobatic overtime we put in last night.”
Ryder pinched my side, making me jerk. “I hope you’re not doing that with your other tutors.”
“Lucky for you, I only need math help, or I totally would.”
“Not funny,” he growled, lightly biting my shoulder.
I laughed, because I thought it was pretty damn funny. I ran my fingers over the coarse hair on his arm, oddly fascinated by the way the sunlight caught it. “I’m ready for my final. Even readier for it to be over.”
“Angel.” Dane’s voice carried over and I noticed him holding the spatula out of Megan’s reach. “Men have been grilling since the dawn of time. I’m not saying that women can’t do it, just that you should leave me to my instinctual carnivorous instincts.”
“But you always burn it.” Megan reached behind him, trying to get the spatula, and he swiveled away, blocking her with his body.
“There’s no such thing as burning in grilling. Ask Hudson.”
“Don’t drag me into it,” Hudson replied. He turned to me, a brown bottle in his hand. “Beer, Lindsay?”
“Yes, please.”
He tossed it, and Ryder whipped his arm up and caught it before I even had the chance.
“Hey,” I said. “First Dane is accusing women of not being able to grill, and now you won’t let me catch my own beer?”
Megan sighed. “Clearly our boyfriends need to be women’s-libbed.”
Dane nudged her with his elbow and shot her an over-the-top grin. “If that’s what we did last night, I’m in.”
Beck growled, and Dane held up his hands. “Sorry. In my defense, I kind of forgot you were here for a second.”
Beck shook his head and Lyla stepped in front of him and distracted him with a kiss. Whitney and Hudson were seated on the cooler, grinning and making eyes at each other, and Dane was buttering up Megan with how she was an amazing cook and he just wanted to do the grilling today so she could relax and enjoy herself.
My smile stretched wide enough to make my cheeks hurt, but I couldn’t stop. I snuggled closer to Ryder and ran my finger across the stubble forming along his jaw. “Have I mentioned how happy I am that you kept pursuing me even when I gave you plenty of reasons not to?”
“Once or twice. I won’t stop you from saying it again, though.” He twisted his head and kissed the center of my palm. “Have I mentioned that you look super sexy today? Those shorts are dangerous.” He smoothed his hands across my bare thighs.
“I wore them just for you. And because it was hot. But mostly for you.” My lips found their way to his, the way they instinctually did, and I gave a happy sigh. I couldn’t help it. Lately my life felt like the swoony ending of not just a novel, but a romance novel.
I glanced around the yard at our friends again. We were a mishmash group full of unlikely combinations who’d become family along the way. More of a functional family than most of us had been born into, and I couldn’t imagine leaving our family. The thought of it was the only thing that occasionally dampened my mood. Leaving for New Jersey without Ryder was the only thought worse, but I’d spent countless sleepless hours worrying he was doing something for me that would end up being bad for him. I hadn’t asked him to, but he’d chosen me, and because of that, I was choosing him.
With everyone distracted and the food not quite ready—or perhaps burning if Megan was right—I decided now was as good a time as any to talk about our future. “I need to talk to you,” I whispered, and Ryder sat up, immediately alert.
“Is everything okay?”
“I think so? I hope so?” I didn’t expect the nerves tangling themselves in knots in my gut. “I did something…”
“Okay, now I’m worried,” Ryder said.
“It’s just that I know you don’t want to go to New Jersey—you belong here with your team.”
He took my hand. “We talked about this. I’ve been told the odds are very high that I’ll get to play for Princeton. All the paperwork just has to go through and be approved, and even if it doesn’t work out—”
“But you might sit the bench there just because you haven’t already played for them, and that’s bullshit. You’re too good for that. And then it’ll be that much harder to get drafted.”
“I’ve got my backup option in place, remember? Princeton has a great teaching program.”
“Babe.” I locked eyes with him. “I love how willing you are to make it work, but look around.” I swung my arm for emphasis. “Look at your teammates and what you have here. This is where you belong.”
“I belong with you,” he said, tightening his grip on my hand.
“And I belong here, too. With our friends—our family, really—with you.” I gave him a quick kiss, pouring as much assurance as I could into it. “I applied for another internship. With a publisher.”
“And? That means New York, right? So we can still make Princeton work. I say go for it. It’s what you want to do, and I want you to be happy. I know you have issues about me supporting us, even for a little while, and I know you get all testy when I offer to help with money, but whatever you need, we’ll make it happen.”
“I want to get upset about your use of testy—”
“Okay, you get all fun-adverse. Is that better?”
I shot him a dirty look and he tried to combat it with his best puppy dog impression—which was way more effective than I wanted it to be.
“I’m just excited,” he said. “This is huge. When will you know if you get it?”
“They offered it to me today. But”—I placed my hand over his mouth because he had a tendency to kiss me before I could get out my buts, and while I was a fan of the method and the kissing, I needed to get this out before the news exploded out of me—“I can work from home. It’s all virtual. I’ll have to get a side job since it’s an unpaid internship, but there’s opportunity to move up.”
“All virtual…” Ryder’s eyebrows drew low over his eyes.
“It means I work from my computer, send a crap-ton of emails, and occasionally travel to New York for meetings. Most importantly, it means we can stay in Boston. You, me, the rest of our crazy crew.” I made a wide sweep, as if otherwise he wouldn’t know who I was talking about, even though I’d gestured to them a minute or so ago. “What do you think?”
He glanced around and then his gaze slowly moved back to me. “You’re serious? This isn’t a test to see how badly I want to stay?”
“Not a test. I wouldn’t do that to you, even though you make me study old math tests, which is cruel and unusual punishment to say the least.” The joke fell flat, or maybe he was too distracted to find it funny. “We can stay. Is it too late to undo the paperwork? Did your coach already give away your spot?”
Vaguely I noticed that everyone else was moving around and talking, and I heard Megan say, “Come get your instinctually burnt meat,” which made it hard not to laugh. But I kept my attention on Ryder, waiting for a reaction.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “You’re kind of killing me here—no bottling up your emotions, remember?”
Ryder slid his hand around my neck, guided my mouth to his, and kissed me so deeply the tension that’d been coursing through me as I waited to hear what he thought melted away.
A huge grin spread across his face. “Boston and paintball matches and hockey and you? That’s a thing that can happen?”
“That’s a thing that can happen,” I said.
“Let’s make it happen, then.” He jumped up, lifting me to my feet along with him. “Hey, guys, you’ll never believe what Lindsay just told me…”
Everyone turned, their plates now stacked with various meats that were sort of indiscernible through the black charred edges.
Ryder wrapped his arm around me. “Lindsay and I are staying in Boston.”
Everyone seemed to be on some type of FCC delayed reaction, freezing for several seconds before giving excited responses that would definitely be bleeped out by the FCC.
“You’re staying?” Megan asked me, and Whitney crowded closer.
I nodded. “I’m staying. Are you guys sure you’ll still want to hang out with an old graduated girl who can’t let go of her glory days?”
Whitney let out a squeal and threw her arms around me. “Are you kidding me? I’m going to be begging for your advice when I’m editing the Heights next year.”
“I have no doubt you’ll be an amazing editor, but I’ll happily help.”
Megan crowded in on the hug and then Lyla joined the group, too. Our boys were over doing the guy thing, more fist bumps and macho head nods than hugs. I remembered the days when I thought I wasn’t a hugger.
Now I tightened my grip on my friends, and a lump formed in my throat from holding back the tears I refused to let out.
On my way back to Ryder, I hugged Dane—without him, I had a feeling Ryder and I never would’ve gotten together in the first place, and I couldn’t help but adore him for that, as well as the way he treated Megan. I even loved how he said whatever thought popped in his head instead of thinking it through. I fist-bumped Beck and returned Hudson’s nod.
Then I was back in Ryder’s arms, hugging and kissing him. He dipped me, and the catcalling and whistling that followed sent another wave of happiness through me.
Confession #25: I used to be a puck bunny, and maybe a part of me still was and would always be. After all, I cared way more about the hockey player I was clinging to than the game. So I was going to go ahead and own it, because it got me here, and here was a really good place to be.
So there you have it, all (okay, most) of my confessions and the true account of what happened when I fell head over heels for a hockey player. I used to think that because of who I was, a happy ending was out of my reach. But all the things I’d been called in the past, nice or mean—puck bunny, editor, bitch, friend, slut, girlfriend, intern for a publishing company—didn’t make me more or less of a person. I’d placed too much emphasis on what people thought about me, and I’d beaten myself up for mistakes and lessons that took a few missteps to learn.
The moral of the story is that everyone deserves a special someone who overlooks their past and their flaws and loves them anyway. That’s the true definition of happily ever after. Which, for the record, is how our story ends…
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