Epilogue - Brooks

T here was nothing like the clean scent of pristine ice, fresh from the latest sweep of the Zamboni. It mingled with the warm aroma of buttered popcorn as I zig-zagged through the crowd arriving at the arena.

One year had passed since we'd saved the arena, but the wonder of it all still made me wobbly in the knees. I smiled as kids darted past me, their laughter echoing off the walls, while their parents chatted about the exhibition game due to start in an era.

I paused outside the rink, placing my hands on the boards and peering at the ice. The crystalline sparkle under the bright lights still took my breath away, just like it did when I was a kid. But now, it meant so much more.

"Brooks! There you are!" Ziggy's voice cut through the din. He'd grown an improbable two additional inches since last summer, and his voice had finally stopped cracking. He'd stopped calling me Mr. Bennett, too.

In the fall, he'd head off to the University of Maine to enroll in their creative writing program. When he received his acceptance letter, the whole town practically cheered in unison.

"I'm going to try to walk on to the hockey team," he'd told me. "Even if that doesn't work out, I've got my writing. And hey, maybe I'll be the next great hockey poet… or the first." He'd grinned from ear to ear with that familiar Knickerbocker spark in his eyes. "Don't worry, Coach. I'll make sure I mention Whistleport in my first bestseller."

Now, he was the head referee for our exhibition. "Coach Blake's looking for you. Something about needing help with the banner."

"Thanks, Ziggy. I'll head over there now."

While walking toward the other end of the rink, I saw Dad and Margot huddled together near the concession stand. Dad was gesturing wildly, probably recounting one of his lobster tales, while Margot listened with rapt attention, her eyes twinkling.

"There you are, you puck hog." Rory's warm and teasing voice pulled me out of my reverie. He perched precariously on a ladder, wrestling with one stubborn corner of the "Whistleport Ice Arena - One Year Anniversary" banner. "Mind giving me a hand here?"

I steadied the ladder, looking up at him. "You know, for someone who spends so much time yelling at kids to be careful on the ice, you're not setting a great example up there. If you fall, I'm not explaining to them what you were doing up there in the first place."

Rory snorted. "Some of us don't have the luxury of your freakish height." He started to climb down, and I instinctively reached out to help him.

As his feet hit the ground, our eyes met, and for a moment, the chaos of the arena faded away. One year back together, and it still felt like falling in love all over again. I couldn't imagine that ever ending.

"What?" Rory asked, a slight flush creeping up his neck.

I shook my head, smiling. "Nothing. Just... happy."

He rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the soft smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Come on, Mr. Sappy. We've got a celebration to run."

As we returned to the rink, my hand brushed against the small box in my pocket. Its weight was a constant reminder of what I was about to do.

"Hey," I said, tugging gently on Rory's sleeve. "Can we duck out for a sec? I want to show you something."

Rory raised an eyebrow, but he agreed to follow. "Sure, but make it quick. Dottie will have our heads if we're not out there to listen to her speech."

I led him toward the back of the arena to the old equipment room under the stands. Over the past year, it had become our unofficial hideaway. As I closed the door behind us, the soft hum of the nearby generators muffled the sounds of the celebration outside.

Rory raised an eyebrow. "Brooks? What's going on? You're not kidnapping me, are you?"

I laughed. "Not a bad idea. I'll have to suggest Ziggy add it to his notebook."

I chuckled as I took a deep breath and turned to face Rory. The dim light from a single bulb cast soft shadows across his face, reminding me of the night when we'd shared our first kiss on that spot more than a decade ago.

I battled my nerves to keep my voice steady. "Rory, I came back to Whistleport a year ago thinking it was just a pit stop. I was so focused on what I'd left behind that I couldn't see what was right in front of me."

I took a step closer, reaching out to take his hand. "But you... you reminded me of who I really am. I'm not just Brooks Bennett, the hockey player, but Brooks from Whistleport. Part of me is still the kid who fell in love with you and this town long before the NHL called me up."

Rory's eyes widened as I slowly sank to one knee, fishing the small box from my pocket.

"Rory Blake, you've been my home rink, center ice, and... damn, I had more hockey metaphors, but I'm kind of blanking right now." We both laughed.

I opened the box, revealing the simple silver band nestled inside. "What I'm trying to say is... I love you. I want to build a life with you here in Whistleport. Will you marry me?"

For a moment, the only sound was our breathing and the hum of the generators. Then, Rory smiled brilliantly.

"You idiot. Like you even have to ask. Of course, I will."

As I slipped the ring onto his finger, Rory pulled me to my feet and into a kiss that tasted of joy, promises, and pure love. When we pulled apart, I chuckled softly.

"What?" Rory asked. "What's funny?"

"Nothing," I said, grinning. "Just thinking about how Dottie's going to react when we tell her she wasn't the first to know."

Rory groaned. "We better get back out there before she sends out a search party."

Later, when the announcer introduced us as the coaches for the exhibition game, the roar of the crowd washed over us. Whistleport was home ice for both of us.

As I squeezed Rory's hand, feeling the cool metal of his new ring, I knew that the best and longest game of my life was just beginning.

***

Thank you for reading Hometown Hero .