Epilogue

RAYNE

Rayne flewacross the ice like his skates had wings. The puck clung to the blade of his stick as though it were glued on. A player wearing a black jersey with blue trim entered his peripheral, reaching out with his stick to poke the puck away from Rayne, but he changed course on the fly, flipping the disc to his backhand.

"Heads up," someone shouted as a flash of red and white crossed in front of him and knocked into the opposing player, sending him off his skates.

"Hamilton!" Brownlow shouted as two players from The Fuzz charged toward him.

He scanned the ice and locked in a mental snapshot of who was where. Flipping the puck back to his forehand, he snapped it through the legs of The Fuzz's forward and onto the toe of Brownlow's stick. Brownlow dodged and carried the puck behind the net, where Rayne picked it up. While The Fuzz's defensemen and goalie were expecting Brownlow to carry the puck back into the crease from the left, Rayne wrapped around the net on the right and sent it home.

The disc pinged off the back post and the red goal light flashed as the horn blasted.

Cheers erupted from the audience, clad in black or red as they supported their favorite team—The Hose Jockeys versus The Fuzz—at the annual charity hockey game between the Boulder Fire and Boulder Police departments.

The moment Rayne had learned about the event, he'd signed on. There'd been a long-standing rivalry between the two departments, and The Fuzz had been on a winning streak for the last few years. But Rayne had been on a mission to put an end to that.

He'd taken lead as coach for the Hose Jockeys as well as playing, and the new and improved HJ team was skating circles around The Fuzz, much to the police department's chagrin. They'd dished out a healthy dose of ribbing about having a ringer on the team with Hamilton, but Capmany was quick to remind them they'd had an ex-pro hockey player on the force for several years too.

Rayne high-fived Brownlow as they skated to their team box together, and Capmany and another player took to the ice. Rayne's gaze landed unerringly on Nick, who was sitting right behind the bench with Verlice, Thatcher, and Garcia. Nick held two thumbs up and smiled at him with so much pride and love that Rayne's heart did a little flip-flop. Rayne mouthed "love you" before sitting down on the bench and chugging some water. Nick hadn't taken to skating, at least not more than being proficient enough for an easy warm up skate around the rink with Rayne on days he coached the kids. But Nick still loved the sport from the sidelines, and Rayne couldn't ask for anything more.

Rayne glanced up at the scoreboard. They were up 5-2, and there were only a few minutes left in the third period. Rayne knew from experience that anything could happen in three minutes. He'd seen teams eat through a four-goal deficit and win in less than two minutes. It wasn't over until it was over. Every second mattered, right up to the last one.

There was a flurry of activity in The Fuzz's defensive zone and suddenly, two Fuzz players broke away with the puck, carrying it up the ice with the Jockeys struggling to catch up.

Rayne held his breath and jumped to his feet along with the rest of the Hose bench, encouraging their players to catch up and get possession back.

The Fuzz players chipped the puck back and forth, trying to deke out the Hose's goalie. One wound up as a psych, and the other took the shot. That play might have worked on a lesser goalie, but not on Rayne's best friend, Kelly Wash.

She stretched out and snatched the flying disc in her glove, covering it to stop the play as the two Fuzz players barreled down on her.

"Not happening, boys!" Rayne shouted as his bench and the crowd cheered the great save.

Kelly had been easy to convince to join the firefighter's hockey team, and when he'd told her how good she was in goal, that she could give a pro goalie a run for their money, she'd found a women's league to join.

She ended up working out of a different fire station than Rayne, and Rayne worked at a different station than Nick. As much as he'd wanted them to work at the same station, Nick warned him that even if they did, the Chief would put them on opposite shifts because they were in a relationship. They'd never end up seeing each other. But it all worked out for the best because Rayne got hired on at Boulder Station 7 and his shifts synced up with Nick's so they could spend their days off together.

As for the rest of Rayne's trainee class, Kelly had been hired on at Boulder Station 4, Thatcher ended up at a station in Arvada, and Garcia was up in Longmont.

Rayne didn't know what kind of joke the universe was playing on him, but Brownlow ended up at the same station as him. Surprisingly though, they had since become good friends, and Brownlow played on the same beer league hockey team as Rayne.

Rayne still helped coach the Flatirons Youth Hockey Club in his spare time, but now as an official assistant coach.

But the biggest change was the one he'd dreamed about his whole life: Nick had made a home for him. After turning down the offer from the Saint Paul Slash—and not getting an offer from the Blitz, which he'd have turned down in the end anyway—Rayne had given up the apartment he'd shared with Lavoie when Lavoie made it to the big show, now playing on the fourth line for the Denver Mustangs, and moved in with Nick.

Photos of Geoff still hung in the bedroom, but gradually, more and more photos of Rayne and Nick appeared on the wall. So many that they'd ended up keeping the main wall for photos of the two of them and moving all the friends—which now included Kelly, Thatcher, Garcia, and even Brownlow—family, and Geoff photos to another wall.

"You're up, Hamilton," Jackson, from Station 3, said as he slid to a stop in front of the bench.

The second Rayne hit the ice he stole the puck from an unsuspecting Fuzz player. Another player checked him into the boards, but he battled for the puck and won, shooting it ahead and onto his forward's stick, a woman named Bozzelli. She worked out of Loveland and was fierce on the ice. Rayne was glad she was on his team, because not only could she throw a solid hit, but she also had a wicked slapshot that never seemed to miss the net.

Rayne got between her and another Fuzz player, but when she got crowded, she snapped the puck back to him. He sent it to the point where Brownlow, who was back on the ice, picked it up easily. He tipped it back to Rayne, who faked the shot and sent it back to Bozzelli.

The Fuzz's goalie lost sight of the puck, and Bozzelli tucked it behind his leg for a pretty goal that sealed The Fuzz's fate. The light flashed, the horn blew, and the end of game whistle sounded half a second later.

Rayne and the rest of his teammates dog-piled on Bozzelli in celebration. They'd taken back the bragging rights, and the gold cup—the final score: 6-2.

NICK

Nick waitedin the large Ice Overlook meeting room, where the charity hockey game after party was being held, for Rayne and the rest of the Hose Jockeys to shower.

It had been a great game. Some players on the police department's team were surprisingly good, but they were no match for the firefighters. Not with Rayne at the helm.

Nick had been so mesmerized watching Rayne that he'd been half hard for the entire game.

Cheers went up, and he turned to see all the players filing in, but Rayne stood out from all of them with his larger-than-life presence. But it was more than that. No matter where Rayne was in a room, Nick's gaze unerringly landed on him. It was as though a tangible, unbreakable thread connected them. Rayne owned his heart. Geoff still lived there, but as Sabrina had once pointed out, the heart was a muscle, and muscle could grow. Which was what his heart had done. It didn't push Geoff out but grew to include Rayne.

"Hey," Rayne said, stopping in front of Nick.

The heated look in his eyes and the seductive tilt of his smile had Nick's stomach fluttering. He reached out, tucking a finger into the front belt loop of Rayne's jeans, and leaned in for a kiss.

"You were so hot out there," Nick breathed against his mouth.

"Yeah?" Rayne's smile widened. "How hot?"

"Too hot for the cops here." Nick moved to whisper into the shell of Rayne's ear. "They'd arrest us."

"Okay, you two," Wash interrupted. "Save that for the bedroom."

"Jealous much?" Rayne quipped, his gaze not leaving Nick's.

"Maybe."

"Good evening, everyone," the event organizer greeted from a small podium at the front of the room. "If you'd all like to get settled, I'll start the announcements and award ceremony."

"Let's sit," Wash said, sending a wink at Nick before turning away.

"What was that about?" Rayne asked.

"What?"

"That wink."

Nick shrugged innocently. "Who winked?"

Rayne narrowed his eyes. "What are you up to, Lieutenant Seavers?"

"Nothing, Rookie Hamilton." Nick chuckled and shook his head. "Go grab a seat. I'm just going to run to the restroom."

Rayne hummed, not buying Nick's act, but he turned and joined his friends, along with Verlice and Jenny, Capmany and Raquel, and Captain Poverly and his wife Brenda, at one of the large tables.

Nick made like he was stepping out, but then after checking Rayne was engaged in conversation, he doubled back and stood off to the side behind a moveable white board until the time was right.

Once everyone was seated, the organizer took to the mic again, thanking the firefighters and police officers for an entertaining game before announcing how much the game had raised.

"Thanks to you all," he said. "We raised an impressive fourteen-thousand dollars for the Boulder Youth Outreach organization and the BPD and BFD charitable societies."

Cheers and clapping resounded throughout the meeting room and rattled Nick's eardrums.

After the audience settled down and the organizer finished with his announcements, he called the Hose Jockeys up to the front to present them with the Boulder Battle of the Badges trophy.

The cops booed good-heartedly while the firefighters flipped them off as they accepted their award. Each player got a hand on it before posing for a group photo, holding it over their heads.

"Rayne," the organizer called as they started filing back to their tables. "Hang back a second."

Confusion sketched over Rayne's features, but he waited by the podium.

When the firefighters had all returned to their seats, Nick took a deep breath, his palms suddenly sweaty and his pulse picking up. He stepped out from behind the whiteboard, his movement snagging Rayne's attention.

Rayne cast a wary look his way. "What's going on?"

Nick stopped in front of the podium and angled the microphone so it would pick up their conversation. He reached for Rayne's hands and clasped them in his.

"Rayne Hamilton," he began, and Rayne gasped, his eyes widening.

The room fell silent as all eyes locked on them.

"Is this happening?" Rayne whispered, and a chuckle rippled through the room.

Nick grinned. This was so happening. He cleared his throat and mentally recited the speech he'd been planning for weeks now.

"I stopped living nearly three years ago," Nick began. "My world had gone gray, and I didn't think I would ever see color again. Then you appeared." He smiled and gave Rayne's hands a squeeze. "This young, larger-than-life hockey player who wanted to be a firefighter, and who brought a kaleidoscope of color with him everywhere he went. I never thought the world could be so bright again. Never thought I could feel again . . . Love again."

He released Rayne's hands and reached into his pants pocket. Rayne's lips parted as Nick retrieved a small black box. He lowered to one knee as he opened it. An excited hum coursed through the audience.

"Rayne Hamilton." Nick popped the box open, and Rayne's eyes grew impossibly bright with tears. "You are all the color in the world. You are my light. I love you more than I ever thought possible, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Build a home with you." He took a deep breath. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes!" Rayne pulled Nick to his feet. "So many yeses!"

Rayne crashed his mouth to Nick's, nearly knocking him off his feet, as friends and coworkers cheered and banged their fists and glasses on the tabletops.

When they broke apart, tears streamed down Rayne's cheeks. Nick brushed them away with his thumb before slipping the gold band he'd had engraved with You are my home on the inside onto Rayne's finger.

"It's perfect," Rayne said with a note of awe in his voice. He lifted his joy-filled gaze to Nick and said, "Take me home, baby."