Epilogue

 

Three Years Later

 

Shannon sat against the boards in her corner of the player's bench, watching the action come to a stop with the shrill blow of a whistle. She bit back a smile as a Caleb started arguing with one of the officials. It didn't matter, Caleb was being sent to the sin bin for the blatant slash against Colorado's goalie.

She had to force herself not to chuckle—Coach Donovan would tear her a new one if he caught her. Not to mention that it wouldn't look good if any of the cameras happened to be focused on her while she was laughing.

It still took more effort than it should have to keep the chuckle from breaking free. She couldn't help it, not when her husband had a really bad tendency to get pissed off whenever a goalie blocked his shot.

She should know: he still did it to her every once in a while. In practice. When they were simply playing around on the ice for fun.

And during the annual charity game between the Banners and the Blades.

So much had happened these last three years. The Blades were still around. In fact, the league had gained enough in popularity that they had expanded to eight teams instead of the original four. The money had gotten a little better—but not good enough that any of them actually made a living from playing.

Most of the original Blades were still with the team, too, though the dynamics had changed just a bit. Taylor and Chuckie were married now, with a little girl who wasn't quite two-years old. It wouldn't be long before the little squirt was on the ice, learning everything she needed to know from her mom and all her aunts.

Shannon was the permanent EBUG for the Banners now, had been since that fluke of a game three years ago. She was sitting on the bench tonight because Corbin Gauthier left during the first period—apparently his wife had gone into labor unexpectantly so Shannon had been pulled into action for the rest of the game. Not that she expected to actually play—she'd only made it on the ice that one time. But at least she had her very own Banners jersey now: WILEY, number seventy-three.

Would she ever have a permanent position with the Banners? Not as EBUG, but as an actual paid player? Would there ever be a real contract with the Banners—or with any other team? She had hoped. Had thought that maybe, just maybe, things would have changed these last three years.

But not yet.

That didn't mean she stopped hoping. And if not for her, then maybe in plenty of time for Taylor's daughter.

Was it enough? Not really, but it was more than she had hoped for when she first started playing hockey all those years ago. When her best friend had turned on her and told her girls couldn't play; when he told her she scared all the boys.

Her gaze darted across the ice, stopped to rest on Caleb. And damn if he wasn't looking at her—she could feel the heat in his gaze, feel the love. The pride.

She wondered where Russell was now. If he still played hockey, or if he even followed the sport. She hoped he did. She hoped he could see her out here now, see all of them, and know how wrong he was.

And if she ever accidentally ran into him again, she'd look him straight in the eye and laugh in his face and tell him how wrong he'd been.

Maybe some boys were scared of her. Intimidated and threated.

But there was one man who believed in her. Who didn't run scared. Who loved her for who she was.

And that was abso-fucking-lutely the best feeling in the world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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