Epilogue

Zoey

The weirdest yet familiar sensation comes over me as I step into the row that has Brent's season tickets seats located at the end towards the player's tunnel, the familiar hum of the arena filling my senses. The cold air nips at my cheeks, but I'm already feeling a warmth spreading through me. It's my first time sitting here, in Brent's seats, watching Brent's game, and as I slip into the chair, my eyes find the ice below. Brent's name, Tomlin , spread across my back, and it feels like I'm finally where I'm supposed to be.

"Finally…" a familiar voice sounds behind me, drawing my attention. I turn to find Gran standing a few rows back, a wide grin plastered across her face. "You're wearing the right jersey after all these years. How does it feel?"

I let out a laugh, looking down at the Hawkeyes jersey I'm wearing, smoothing the fabric over my chest. "Like a long time in the making."

Gran pats my shoulder as she moves down to take her seat next to me, looking utterly proud. "It looks good on you," she says. "You know… Brent's mom used to make comments every once in a while about you. She thought you were so cute coming to the games in Liam's jersey. But she always thought that you and Brent would make a better couple."

Her words take me off guard. Brent's mom wanted me to date Brent.

"I had no idea," I tell her.

She nods watching the players out on the ice.

"Both of Brent's parents would be thrilled to see you cheering him on now. They would have loved to see you two together."

My heart is almost to full and feels like it might burst.

"Thank you for saying that." I tell her.

She smiles over at me. "I just thought you should know that everyone's been rooting for you two the entire time. Now let's watch our boy decimate San Diego," she says, clenching her fists together.

The players are already warming up on the ice, the sound of skates cutting into the frozen surface. The stadium lights reflect off the ice, and I spot Brent skating out with the team, his powerful strides sending a thrill through me. He moves like he owns the rink, confidence exuding from every motion just like he did in s school, but there's even more confidence in him now than ever before.

I settle into my seat scanning the entire stadium, almost giddy to be here. There's a sea of Hawkeyes jerseys, so many of them sporting Brent's number. It's surreal to see so many people here for him. My heart races a little as I realize I'm part of this world now, part of his world.

We've barely left his house since we got back, more like barely left his bed. The man knows how to make up for lost time and I'm enjoying every second of his groveling in the form of sexual favors. Not that he has to make it up to me, I've forgiven him and now I just want to move on and look to our future together instead.

The game starts fast, with Brent leading the charge on the ice. The sound of bodies colliding, sticks slapping against the ice, and the puck whipping across the rink fills the air, blending with the rumble of the crowd. Every time Brent skates past the goal, my eyes track his every move. He's a blur of power and control, his face locked in focus, and I can't help but feel proud of him.

A goal is scored, the stadium erupts in cheers, and I leap to my feet with everyone else. My heart swells as I see Brent in the center of it all, his teammates swarming him in celebration. He turns, looking up into the stands, and I know he's searching for me. When our eyes lock, a smile spreads across his face—one of those rare, genuine smiles he only gives when he's truly happy. I give him a little wave, and his eyes crinkle with amusement before he gets pulled back into the game.

The minutes tick by, but my mind is still stuck on the way he looked at me. Almost like he still can't believe I'm here, in the stands, wearing his number. And it's crazy to think that only five days ago, he and I were sitting side by side and I was trying to think of a way that I could ignore him the entire weekend, now, neither one of us can get enough.

When the final buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the game, the energy in the arena is electric. The Hawkeyes have won, and the crowd is buzzing with excitement. I head down to the locker room area, waiting with Tessa and some of the other wives and girlfriends. Tessa bounces on the balls of her feet, her excitement palpable.

"You've got that ‘I'm proud of my man' glow," she teases, bumping her shoulder into mine.

Christmas morning, Tessa and Lake came over to Brent's expecting to open presents and not expecting Brent to have a half naked woman in his house. With the chaos of me coming home with Brent, he totally forgot that he had plans the next morning with Tessa, Lake and half of the Hawkeyes team.

Christmas morning, I got to go with Brent to the Hawkeyes Christmas and I met more of the "Hawkeyes Girls" as Brent put it. I've already been invited to a sticky bun initiation. I have no idea what that is, but it sounds delicious.

I smile, not bothering to deny it. "It was amazing watching him out there."

"And it's only going to get better." Tessa nods toward the door where the team is starting to emerge, sweaty and tired, but victorious.

Brent strides out, his eyes immediately locking onto me. He doesn't pause or hesitate—just makes a beeline straight for me, his hockey bag slung over his shoulder, still in his gear. His determined gaze sends my heart into a frenzy, beating wildly against my rib cage.

Before I can even say anything, Brent drops his bag to the ground, pulls me against him, and cups my face in his hands. His lips are on mine before I even have time to react. It's a hard, claiming kiss, full of heat and passion. I melt into it, my arms winding around his neck as the rest of the world fades away.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, his breathing heavy. "God, it was good having you here tonight," he says, his voice low and hoarse like he was yelling all night out there. "Seeing you in that seat... wearing my jersey... I wish I could have put you there sooner."

A warmth spreads through me that has nothing to do with the heat of his body and everything to do with the love radiating from him. "I'm glad I was here too," I whisper, brushing a hand over his cheek. "You were amazing out there."

He grins, his eyes shining with pride. "I play better when you're watching."

I laugh, shaking my head. "You play great no matter what, Brent."

His expression softens, and he leans in, pressing another soft kiss to my lips. "Maybe. But it's different with you here. I feel like I have more energy with you here."

I bite my lip, trying to hold back the overwhelming emotion rising in my chest. "I'll be here. I wouldn't miss it."

He chuckles, kissing my temple this time. "You better. I have a Stanley Cup to win, and I can't do it without you in that seat."

We stand there for a moment, wrapped in each other, the sounds of the arena fading into the background. It feels right—more right than anything has in a long time.

I look up at him, my heart swelling. "I'll be wherever you need me. I love you."

Brent's eyes soften even more as he pulls me closer, his lips brushing against my forehead. "I love you too, Zoe. I always have, and I always will."

As the sounds of the stadium fill the air around us, I realize just how lucky I am to have this—Brent, hockey, this life we're building together. And I know, without a doubt, that I'm exactly where I'm meant to be.

THE END