21. Epilogue

Ten years later…

“Aiden, Coach Pratt called. He wants to know if you can stand in for him tonight?” Finchley runs her hand over my shoulders and sits beside me on the sofa. Fiona, our youngest, has fallen asleep across my lap. Her fever finally broke, but the wee one is still tuckered out from fighting off a cold.

“Aye, if you can put Fiona to bed, I’ll call him back,” I say, maneuvering our six year old so she can put her to bed for proper rest.

“Will you tell Ethan to turn his music down, Mom?” she asks my mother as she heads to the back bedroom.

Mum nods and folds her blanket before going to fuss at our eldest son yet again. It’s been ten years of wedded bliss, and our family keeps growing. Four kids isn’t enough for mum, so Finchley is pregnant with number five. It is our last, to be sure, but I’ll miss seeing my beautiful wife pregnant. There’s something about her swollen belly that makes my heart dance a little jig.

I place the return call to Pratt and agree to fill in for him so he can spend some much needed time with his grandchildren. I’ve been doing it more lately, especially since accepting a promotion from training coach to assistant coach only two years ago. By the time I hang up, the music blaring from my son’s room has quieted and Finchley tiptoes down the hallway. She’s exhausted from tending to four sick kids all week, but she’s still beautiful.

“Hey, did you see this?” She hands me her phone open to a real estate listing.

“Brokedown is for sale?” I ask, scrolling through the listing. “I’m not surprised, but at the same time, I am.”

“It’s getting too much for them to manage. I hope the new owner doesn’t ruin it. I love that little place.”

It’s been almost a year since we last spent time out with friends at our old hangout, but nostalgia takes me back to the days of fun. Now that we are all retired or close to it and have families of our own, it’s harder to get together like we used to.

“Bloody shame if they do,” I say, reluctantly handing the phone back to my wife.

She bites her lip like she does when she has something to tell me but isn’t sure how it will go over. I wrap my arms around her belly and rub her lower back, bringing her close to me. She groans with relief, which also makes her more compliant to telling me what’s on her mind.

“What are you thinkin’, love?”

She groans again and lets her head drop onto my chest. “How do you always know when I’m thinking about something important?” I chuckle and stroke the back of her head. “I called my uncle.”

She pulls back and looks up at me. Her Uncle Bradford, the only one of her father’s siblings that never married or had kids, reached out to her one day out of the blue and apologized for his role in the family drama. He had a brush with death that left him feeling alone, scared, and in need of family connection. Finchley and April have visited and worked to build a relationship with him, and darned if the old man hasn’t changed into someone with a heart.

“And?”

“He wants to give us the money to buy the tavern.”

My back goes stiff. “What?”

Finchley chews her lower lip and gives me those sweet, pleading puppy eyes. “I told him all about the tavern and what it means to the team, and he said he wanted to buy it for me. I refused, of course, but he insisted. No strings attached. It will be completely ours. What do you think?”

“Birdie, how will we run a tavern? I’m busy with my job and you’re raising four kids with one on the way.”

“April said she would manage it,” she says, proving she has put more thought into this than a fleeting interest.

“Are you serious?” I ask, worried she might put too much on herself with this idea.

She shrugs. “Well, it is a crazy idea, but April and I were talking about it and we wondered if a partnership might be better. Uncle Bradford can finance the purchase of the tavern, but a group, or a board so to speak, can own and manage it.”

“Yer talkin’ above my pay grade, love. What are you getting at?”

“What if we go in with your old team?”

“The team?”

She nods frantically, almost as if she has to convince me this is a good idea. Frankly, it doesn’t matter if the idea was pulled right out of the waste bin, if she wants it, my Birdie gets it. Even so, I let her tell me her thoughts before agreeing to them because I am physically incapable of telling the woman no.

“Listen, the ladies and I hardly get to see each other as it is, and with people all spread out, I want something that keeps us tighter as a family, you know?”

“They’re all coming for Christmas this year, love. We see them.”

She frowns and runs her hands up my arms and into my hair. The second she starts toying with my hair, I’m lost. I already knew I’d agree to whatever she wanted, but if there had been any fight in me, it would have drifted away. I know I’m about to be the proud partial owner of Brokedown Tavern.

“Please?” she whispers. “With sprinkles on top?”

I can’t help laughing because she knows she’s got me. “All right, Birdie, who do I call first?”

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a business card. Handing it to me, she bites that lip again so hard, I wonder how it’s not bleeding. There was only one other time that she behaved this way, and it was when she told me she was pregnant for the fifth time. Worry fills her eyes as I look down at the business card.

Brokedown Tavernit reads on the front along with the address and email. I flip it over and find a Dragons logo on the back and a list of owners.

Aiden Doyle, Archer Sullivan, Evander Calloway, Dexter Hart, Cyrus Baxter, Joel Forshtay, Bridger Baros.

I turn the card over several times trying to piece it all together. “I don’t understand. Isn’t this jumping the cart?”

“Jumping the cart? You mean jumping the gun? Or putting the cart before the horse?” she asks.

I frown, still unsure of American phrases after all these years. “A cart, a gun, a horse, either way, isn’t this making a big assumption? Dex and Millie Jane live in Kentucky. Cyrus is in North Carolina, and half the guys are too busy working to—”

“Shh,” she says, pressing her finger over my lips. “Happy fortieth birthday, Aiden.”

“What?” I hold my breath, too afraid to believe that somehow this woman has managed to purchase an entire tavern and get my friends in on it without me knowing.

She rolls her eyes. “All right, I might have already done it all as a surprise. The guys were all in. April will manage the tavern, and it’s fine that some of the owners don’t live in Denver. Besides, we might expand.” She offers little more than a shrug, then takes me by the hand. “Come on. You need to change and get ready for dinner. We’re meeting everyone at our new place tonight.”

There is no doubt that we Dragons have done our part to populate the planet. There are children everywhere, running amok like little beasts, while Indy does her best to keep them all in line. It’s hard to believe she’s a teenager, but she’s spent plenty of time babysitting our brood. Ronnie and Archer laugh while she shouts marching orders to the littlest kids.

“So, what do you think?” April asks, handing me a drink. “We keep it exactly the same, but ditch those crummy sports jerseys that don’t belong to our Dragons.”

“Hey,” Greer says. “The Darlings spend plenty of time here, too, ya know.”

April laughs and nudges Greer in a hip check. “All right, Dragons and Darlings only.”

Evander kisses his wife’s cheek, freshly retired himself. He’s spent the last year enjoying being a stay at home dad, but he’s itching to get back to work. I hope helping at the tavern is up his alley. I was glad when they decided to stay in Denver and raise their family, especially since Finchley and Greer really bonded.

Chantelle and Jude walk in with Joel and Gwen behind them. Fresh from her latest book tour, Chantelle has become quite a household name. The ladies immediately join Ronnie in a corner booth while the guys wander our way.

“I’m going to go chat a bit,” Finchley says, then grabs Greer and April for the usual split. The ladies catch up while we guys talk about the good old days. Some of us saw more championship wins while others moved on from hockey, but one thing has always remained true. Our friendships have stood the test of time.

Bridger returns to the table with a plate of cheese fries and grins. “You know what I just realized?”

“Do we even want to know?” Cyrus asks, his gaze drifting toward his wife, Julie.

“We’re the old men now.” Bridger scratches the scruff on his chin and shakes his head. “We’ll be the ones sitting in the corner giving out advice to the young idiots that come in here confused about women and life.”

I chuckle and take a sip of water, thinking about the older gentlemen that frequented the tavern. Ivan and a few are still around, still busting our chops, but the herd has certainly thinned. I look around at my friends and their wives, their kids filling up every seat from one side of the tavern to the other. We’ve really got it made.

“Can you believe it’s been ten years since that first cup?” Dex asks. He shakes his head. “If I had only stayed on a little longer.”

Bridger rolls his eyes. “You broke your leg. You would have been on the bench anyway. Besides, you were too smitten with Millie Jane.”

“Me? I’m not the one who serenaded a woman and proposed to her after like a week, dude.”

“She said yes, didn’t she?” Bridger says, stuffing fries into his mouth.

“I think we all made proper saps of ourselves where these ladies are concerned,” I say, motioning toward our wives. “But they’ve always been worth it.”

The door opens again and Ivan enters with a smile on his face. He’s a sight for sore eyes, especially since a recently broken hip had him out of commission for a long while. After he helped Finchley with her legal issues, they grew close. He was the grandfather figure she’d always needed, probably more of a father figure if I’m honest, and for that I will forever owe the man everything.

“Ivan!” the ladies call, making his grin spread even wider.

“The old man gets all the love,” Evan says, chuckling. “Greer’s eyes never light up that much when I enter a room.”

“That’s because you leave your socks and hockey sticks everywhere,” Jude says. “At least, that’s what Chantelle says.” He shrugs and glances at Joel.

“When will you learn to stop gossiping?” Joel asks his twin.

“It’s not gossip,” Jude defends, but our attention shifts immediately when we hear a thud.

“Ivan!” the ladies shout again, but this time it’s because he’s on the floor, groaning.

The guys rush to his aid, but Archer gets there first. “Ivan, what happened? Are you all right?”

“It’s my hip! I think I broke it again!” Ivan rolls around, grumbling and groaning, while everyone rushes to fuss over him.

Archer kneels to check him over, but he no sooner puts a hand on Ivan, and the old man stops moving, chuckles, and says, “Gotcha.”

The whole room goes quiet, but Ivan and I can’t help laughing. His gaze meets mine and he gives me a thumbs up. “Did I do good?”

I laugh even harder when all heads, including the kids, swivel in my direction. “You did brilliantly, Ivan.”

“Oh, you,” Freya says, swatting at me. “We thought he hurt himself. Shame on you!”

The guys fuss and complain about how they should have known it was a prank since I didn’t rush over to help Ivan. The old man stands and brushes his pants off, still chuckling. He adjusts his suspenders and steps beside me. “I thought it was a good joke.”

“It was. Just ignore them. They’re all sore they got conned.”

Ivan pats my back, then freezes. His eyes go hazy and he grasps his shirt front with one hand and my arm with the other. “My chest,” he says. “Oh, my chest.”

For a moment, people ignore him, assuming it’s another one of my pranks, but when my own eyes go wild and I shake him, they pay attention. “Ivan, what’s wrong?”

“My heart, it’s…I think I’m having a heart attack.” He stumbles and falls against me, his frail body trembling. “Oh, it’s my heart. I’m heading home, I just know it.”

“Ivan? Ivan!” I shout. “Someone call an ambulance.”

Finchley pulls out her phone. “Oh no, I’ll call one right away,” she says, but her tone is so sarcastic, I can’t help but look her way. She slowly taps on her phone screen, seemingly disinterested in what’s happening. For a woman who adores Ivan, she should be freaking out as much as I am.

“Birdie, I think he’s actually having a heart attack. I’m not joking around this time,” I say, hoisting him up a little since he’s limp in my arms.

“Oh, sure. You expect me to believe that after your little performance just now?” she says, rolling her eyes.

“Love, I’m serious,” I say, panicking. “Someone please call an ambulance.”

“I don’t know. Finchley’s right,” Ronnie says. “He seems fine to me.”

My eyes widen as it dawns on me. I’ve played one too many pranks, and it’s about to get an old man killed.

“Seems like a set up to me too,” Dex says.

“It isn’t! I swear, it’s—” Before I finish my sentence, the old man stands on his toes, pinches my cheek and laughs.

I blink and he steps away, laughing while accepting a hug from Finchley.

What is happening?

“You should take a bow. The look on Aiden’s face right now is priceless,” Joel says as they all gather around.

“What in the world is happening right now?” I ask, ensuring Ivan is okay.

“Ivan told us all about your little prank, and we all decided it was time to collectively return the favor,” Bridger said, resting his hand on my shoulder. “Happy fortieth birthday, old man.”

I release a deep breath and finally laugh. “You bloody boogers. I should kick you all out right now.”

Evan laughs. “Kinda hard to do that when we all own it.”

As laughter fills the room again, I can’t help smiling. They got me, but man it feels so good. We all own this tavern, and it’ll tie us together forever. All the Dragons. Our family.

“What do you think?” Finchley asks, snuggling up to me.

“I think you’re amazing, and I’m so lucky,” I say, leaning down to kiss my wife while our large family congratulates Ivan on a prank well done.

It’s all right, though. I have plenty of time to get them all back, and rest assured, I absolutely will.