Epilogue 1

TEDDY

My head is all over the place during the lead-up to the big charity game final. Thankfully, my heart is officially with Harlow. She returned to Tulsa to pack up her apartment while I watched a Knights versus Lions game. Yes, my team against the Los Angeles Lions who offered me big cheddar to leave the Knights and wear their colors.

But I can’t think about that right now as I rob the puck from the opposing team, dish it to Cooper who dekes around the Canadian Lumberjack’s winger who is out for blood—gets the Jack in the penalty box. Hee-hee.

Dawson is a brick wall and blocks so many shots I lose count. The defense are a couple of brutal goons who keep loading on him, but he flashes the leather like no other.

After we charge and get our first goal, I can hear Coach Strickland’s voice in my head—or is it Badaszek? Both—we’re starting to get overconfident, sloppy, and acting like the game is already in the bag and we’re flashing our winning hardware. Scotty is behind the glass, observing our every move with a shrewd eye, and I take that as a reminder to put my best skate forward.

At one point, the Jacks’ center gets pretty aggressive and in Dawson’s face. Our goalie is ready to take off his cage and throw down, but the fact that this is for charity and there are probably more kids present than usual puts the antagonism typical to regular hockey games in check.

Halfway through the second period, I notice a pattern. I’m a pickpocket, stealing the puck from either one of the Jacks’ wingers. Noah is a beast, keeping on top of the other wing. Their defensemen are a pair of pylons, keeping me from passing the puck to our forwards. At one point, Dawson looks about ready to phone home, standing lonely at the other end of the barn.

That’s to say our offensive game is a matter of putting out fires all over the ice. But we’re in a stalemate, not scoring. During a timeout, Stickland strikes hard with reminders to stick to the plan. Me too. My plan is to win now and then remain with the Knights. Playing against the Jacks tonight only confirms I made the right choice.

When we refresh and get back on the ice during the third period, Coach puts Scotty in and the guy is electric. He offers assist after assist, but with each one, the guys in red and black block with grit, likely having gotten a similar talk from their coach.

The Jacks’ goalie is razor sharp and keeps our shots out of the basket time after time. If the crowd weren’t so loud and opinionated, coaching from the stands, I’d be able to hear the rubber ring off the iron.

Noah is a rocket and somehow manages to be everywhere I’m not, which is also somehow everywhere. I’m up the ice, down the ice, the Jacks giving us a run for our money. They’ve got wheels, that’s for sure, and the zebras aren’t watching as closely as they could be for penalties. There have been more than a few instances of cross-checking and high-sticking. Do they get called out? No. Thankfully, I’ve only seen the inside of the sin bin once this game.

But I’m here for the show because my knee hasn’t so much as twinged with a suggestion of fatigue. There’s not been a single twitch of pain. Nope. The thing is as strong and as reliable as ever, which means as much to me as playing alongside these men.

Three-quarters of the way into the final period, we’re tied with a pair of deuces. Getting into position for another goal to break the stalemate is agonizing.

I spot Harlow in the bleachers, cheering us on. Hidden in my fishbowl, I can’t help but smile when she turns around, jumping up and down, and points at the number fifty-eight and my last name emblazoned across her back. My pulse trips in the best of ways.

That’s my girl . . . and seeing her this pumped is so out of character that I know we’ve finally broken away from the roles we’d restricted ourselves to. Being best friends was great, but what we have now is even better.

Speaking of breaking away, the Jacks are in possession of the puck and their center rushes toward me. I spot Scotty by the blue line. The others are well-positioned. Noah and I do our best, but the hotshot Lumberjack snakes through. Then I see what could happen. So does our legendary left winger.

With thirty seconds left, Scotty seizes the puck and passes it to Dan. His handling is that of a total pro as he whizzes toward the goal. The pessimist in me half expects the goalie’s waffle board to block the shot, but it slides past for the win.

The lamp lights.

The arena is quiet for approximately one second and then they erupt into cheers for number twenty-nine, the Maple Falls hometown hero, Dan taking the win.

It’s a buzzer beater and when it finally does sound, signaling the end of the game, the crowd goes insane, stomping, chanting, and singing along to the theme song, “Ice, Ice Baby” as we lift our sticks in triumph and do a victory lap.

The win is epic and for a good cause.

At first, I was ambivalent about the charity team, but I’ve never had as much fun playing hockey as I have with these guys. They’re real brothers and when we do our post-game recap, I have a feeling we may someday do this again—or at least play a shinny game just for old-time’s sake. Maybe someday I’ll have a backyard rink and can invite the guys to Nebraska.

Harlow waves and blows me a kiss. My future takes shape, and she’s at the center.

The next several hours are pure celebration as we recap the win, reminisce about our time together in Maple Falls, and what’s next for us. With my best friend by my side and my spot waiting for me with the Knights, it looks a heck of a lot better than it did during my other “last game.”

Before Harlow and I return to Omaha, we go to Mindy and Drew’s Thanksgiving wedding. The theme is thankful hearts. She’s my plus-one and I’m hers.

At the rehearsal dinner, I catch a vision of what our future will be like and questions pop into my mind like the bubbles in the hot tub where we all lounge the night before the big event. Will Harlow and I get married? Where? Will it be a big event, small, somewhere in between?

“Harlow, I can’t help but notice that you’re soaking with us,” Sahanna says, feet dangling in the water and rubbing her belly. Word is she and Chris might be expecting a bundle of joy in the coming year, but they haven’t announced it yet.

Her eyes dart to mine. “I’ve been working on?—”

“That’s what you noticed?” Chris asks, incredulous.

I expect Harlow’s claws to come out, but these are our best friends. Instead, she says, “As I was saying?—”

“She’s much less grumpy, if that’s what you were thinking,” Mindy adds.

Drew, newer to our group, says, “She has a certain look.”

Harlow’s jaw tightens, and she rolls her shoulders, before blurting, “I’m in love.”

There’s a collective gasp and right then the water jet timer shuts off.

Jill glances at me, likely she knows. Her husband, Juan, presses his lips together as if trying not to smile.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” Chris asks.

I can’t help it, my lips curl into the biggest eat-your-heart-out grin. I’m not saying Chris had a crush on her in college, but I am saying he’s now married so it doesn’t matter .

“No!” Sahanna says, picking up the subtext.

Mindy jumps out of the hot tub and paces. “I knew it. I knew it. I knew it! Didn’t I tell you, Drew? I said, ‘Mark my words, before the year is out, they’ll realize. . .’”

“Oh, we realized well before this year,” I say.

“And you kept it from us?” Juan asks, surprise replacing his knowing smirk. Given the hockey butt conversation I overheard, apparently, couples tell each other everything. Jill elbows him.

Harlow shakes her head. “No, we kept it from each other.”

“So wait. Let me get this straight. Drew and I are getting married tomorrow and you guys are next?”

Jill, Sahanna, and Chris start talking about all the couples’ trips we’re going to take, starting with a ski trip for New Year’s. Given my game schedule, that’s unlikely, but I’ll see what I can do. But first, we have to get married. I’m working out a plan for how and when to pop the question. Unless Harlow objects, we won’t be having a lengthy engagement. We’ve waited long enough.

While they all chatter about how this changes things—in the best possible ways because now we don’t need to add two new people to our group as our respective and prospective future spouses—I slide closer to Harlow.

“We ripped off that bandage, huh?” I say.

“They would’ve figured it out tomorrow.”

I cock an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? How do you reckon that?”

Harlow wears a smile I’ve rarely seen and merely says, “You’ll find out.”

That night, in the hotel room, with Harlow a few floors down with the bridal party, I turn over what she said about our friends figuring out that we’re a couple. But unless she was going to announce it, which seems like a wedding faux pas, I can’t fit the puzzle pieces together.

The next morning, Harlow appears for photos in a goldenrod gown with a chiffon overlay, looking like she chased away the clouds.

Striding toward me, she plants her pointer finger on my jaw and pushes upward slightly. “Don’t drool.”

I smirk. Then she did know what she did to me at Sahanna and Chris’s wedding.

As the ceremony proceeds, I try to focus on the newlyweds, but my attention repeatedly shifts to Harlow. I can’t stop thinking about her comment. What did she mean about everyone figuring out our secret today?

At the reception, we toast the couple, eat a delicious meal, dance, and have cake, but I still can’t figure it out, other than the fact that my not just best friend looks radiant.

After we send off the bride and groom with a shower of confetti flower seeds, those of us in the wedding party gather around an outdoor fire at the hotel. We reminisce and catch up even though we’ve been together for the last couple of days. Eventually, everyone except Harlow and I says goodnight and return to their rooms.

She sits beside me on an overstuffed outdoor chair and the glow of the fire casts her features in light and shadow.

“Shh,” I whisper. “Don’t tell the bride, but you were the most beautiful woman at the wedding today.”

“And you were the most handsome fiancé I’ve ever seen.”

Something shiny glints in Harlow’s hand. No, on her hand. I tilt my head, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. Narrowing my eyes, I take her fingers in mine and draw her onto my lap. “What is this?”

“It’s the equivalent of me wearing your hockey sweater.” She tries and fails to suppress a smile.

“What don’t I know?”

She bites her lip. “I thought maybe you’d notice earlier, but I guess my being the most beautiful woman at the wedding blinded you to the bling on my finger.” Her tone is full and flirty.

“Where—? What?—?”

“When I was back in Tulsa, I had a ring made.” She shows me her hand. There’s a diamond in the middle of the silver setting and sapphires all around. “They’re purple in case you can’t tell in this light.”

It’s then I realize she’s no longer wearing the mood ring.

“So are you saying?—?”

Harlow’s eyes sparkle. “I’m saying will you marry me, Teddy?”

My breath catches and I cup her jaw, kissing her while repeating, “Yes, yes, yes.”

The hungry pecks turn into one long kiss while the fire dies down and warmth spreads between us. Our kissing is feverish because not only are we friends, but we’re officially in a relationship and quite possibly engaged. I’ll get to the bottom of that in a bit. There’s no rush.

I finally have my forever.

My brother is officially in jail. Even with Harlow’s exceptional lawyering skills, had she taken the case, she may have gotten him a reduced sentence, but the evidence was stacked against him. Tim had made too many enemies and owed too much money.

On the upside, he’s no longer a danger to himself or my wallet. However, I do go visit him before heading to Omaha where Harlow and Leo the lizard are waiting for me.

When I meet Tim in the visitors’ area, he starts our reunion by posturing to slam my face into the cinderblock wall, but thankfully, there is plexiglass between us.

Kind of reminds me of the boards at the rink. But that gives me an idea. Once I get him to calm down and accept that he made this icy bed and is going to have to cool off, we start talking about hockey. It’s almost like we’re kids again, him on the lower bunk and me on the top in our shared bedroom growing up, sketching our dreams of NHL stardom.

“So, I was thinking, while you’re in here, you should make a plan to get back on the ice,” I suggest.

“Pfft. Yeah right. No chance.”

I know a thing or two about dealing with grumps. Tim is no exception. It takes some finesse and being a steady presence to get through to people like him. At least, I hope this works with my brother. I almost gave up on him, but that’s not my style.

“I don’t mean in the AHL or the NHL.”

“No? What else is there? You want me to join the white-hair league.”

A smirk grows on my lips. “I do see a couple of grays. Under stress lately, bro? ”

“Shut up.”

“I want you to prioritize what’s important in your life. You get one shot, Tim. If you miss, that’s on you. But if you don’t try. Well, that’s just sad.”

“If you recall, I did try,” he counters.

“And your lack of humility and wanting to take shortcuts got you kicked off the team and landed you here. How’s that working out for you?”

“Ted, you are lucky there is an armed guard over there, otherwise, I’d?—”

Leveling him with my gaze, I say, “You’d pay me back? Yeah. I kept the tab open. As of two months ago, you owe me over a quarter million dollars. I charge interest too.”

His eyes narrow. “But we’re brothers.”

“And that’s why I’m here. I didn’t have to visit.”

He goes quiet and stares at his hands. “I know.”

“I’ll waive the interest if you do something for me.”

With the rise and fall of a long breath, he asks, “What is it?”

“I want you to come up with a plan to get guys like you—maybe even as young as eighteen—into hockey. Tough guys, big guys, strong guys, morally gray guys. Dudes who don’t have hobbies other than cracking knuckles.”

“You mean like a criminal league.”

“Yeah, but the penalties stand. No rule-breaking.”

“When have I ever followed rules?”

I look around the jail and then start to get to my feet. “Yeah. That’s gone well. Great. Okay. Good chat.”

“Wait,” he calls.

I tilt my head in question.

“You’re saying that if I put together a team or two of guys who, uh, need a little direction in their lives, maybe as a way to let out their, um, anger or whatever that you’ll?—”

“Yeah, Tim. That’s what I’m saying. You could use your skills for a good cause.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“All right. I’ll think about it.”

That’s all I need to hear to know that my brother is about to embark on his biggest adventure yet and succeed. Unless he gets in his own way. That’s why I brought insurance.

I get up to go and then pause. “One more thing.”

“There’s something else?

“If you start reading the Bible and focus on the part about humility, you don’t owe me a cent.”

“Me? Read?”

“Yeah. Like Grandpa. The original Polar Bear who taught you to play hockey. If the Book was good enough for him, it’s good enough for you.” I slide one through the little opening beneath the plexiglass. “Remember, humility.”

“Humility,” he repeats.

I can’t take credit for this, Harlow and I masterminded it together while she works on her sister who refuses to visit Tim while he’s in jail. I don’t blame her really. It’s a rough place. But maybe they can write letters. If I was the sunshine to Harlow’s grumpy clouds, Monroe is the sunshine to Tim’s moods. Funny how we vowed never to date each other’s siblings, and here we are.

Now, I cannot wait to get back to my roller derby skating, tea-drinking, hockey-butt-loving woman.