Epilogue

Christian

Next season

Life after Dadon the Seattle Rainiers was amazing.

Theo and I were very openly dating now. We'd attended Sorenson's wedding over the summer as a couple, and we'd even been featured in a post the team did about players' partners and families.

It wasn't just us finally releasing our breath, either. Nobody on the team felt like they were skating on eggshells anymore. Our new GM had an open-door policy and was completely chill about everything. Business was still business and she still sometimes had to make tough decisions—like when she traded Foster in mid-October for someone who could shore up our defense—but that was just hockey.

She also didn't have a single objection to certain special theme nights, and I had been looking forward to tonight since the season started.

There was something deeply satisfying—even triumphant—about seeing all the Pride Night banners and T-shirts in the crowd tonight. With every rainbow jersey I'd hung beneath the rainbow nameplates in the locker stalls, I felt like we'd won. Pride Night was back, and there wasn't a goddamned thing my father could do about it.

I even imagined he was somewhere watching the game on TV and grumbling to himself about how awful it was.

I hoped he hated every last second.

Shortly before warmups, as I made the rounds to check everyone's gear for last-minute issues, Condit called out, "Hey, Christian—we've got something for you."

I straightened. "You do?"

He grinned and held up a hoodie. It was black like the ones I usually wore during games, but instead of Rainiers in white font, it was the same logo they had on the front of their jerseys.

Printed in rainbow colors.

"Holy shit, guys." I took the hoodie from him and stared at the logo. "Is this—you really did this for me?"

"Absolutely."

"So are you gonna put it on?" Sorenson asked. "Wilcox worked really hard, trying to color inside the lines!"

"Fuck off," Wilcox said, and threw a balled-up sock at him.

"Hey!" I wagged a finger at Wilcox. "Don't you be throwing gear that I have to fix."

He offered an exaggeratedly sheepish look. "Sorry."

I chuckled and looked at the hoodie again. "Anyway, hell yeah, I'm wearing this." I tugged off my own hoodie and pulled on the new one. I glanced down at the rainbow logo, and I damn near got choked up. God, I loved these guys. Before my emotions could get the best of me, though, I struck a dramatic pose. "Well? Do I look fabulous or what?"

The guys all laughed and applauded.

I turned to Theo, who was sitting on the bench, and he smiled up at me. "You look amazing."

"Yeah?" I grinned and stepped closer, then sat on one of his powerful thighs. In his ear, I murmured, "Do I look fuckable?"

He patted my leg. "Baby, you always look fuckable."

"Jesus Christ, you two." A sock flew past our heads. "Get a room!"

"Hey!" I twisted around in Theo's lap. "What did I just say about throwing gear?"

"Sorry, Christian."

Theo chuckled. I got up so he could finish getting ready, and we exchanged smiles.

That was a relief, actually. He'd been a little quiet all day today. Not withdrawn or frosty, just up in his own head a bit. That wasn't unusual before a game, and he was still being affectionate now, so I didn't worry about it. He was probably just focused on hockey. This was a match-up between divisional rivals, after all.

I started to walk away to get back to work, but he called after me. "Hey, Christian?"

I turned around. "Hmm?"

His smile was the most beautiful thing ever. "Do you have any rainbow tape?"

I smiled back. God, the first time he'd asked me that question, he'd been so full of both courage and fear, and my heart had melted.

Today, there was no fear, but my heart still melted.

"Your stick is already taped," I pointed out.

He glanced at the blade and handle, then shrugged, a mischievous little grin on his lips. "Yeah, but it's good luck to ask you for rainbow tape on Pride Night." He winked.

"So, you think you're going to get lucky just because you asked for some tape?"

Theo batted his eyelashes. "Well, I was hoping I'd get lucky anyway, but—"

"Jesus Christ." Grekov threw a glove at Theo's chest. "You two are disgusting."

Theo cackled as he tossed the glove back. "Your jealousy is so transparent."

Grekov rolled his eyes and muttered something in Russian. Theo fired something back, and they both laughed. I didn't ask them to translate; there were, after all, some cameras and hot mics in here, and we really didn't need them to get recorded translating their Russian swearing. Again.

Grekov's English was getting better and better as time went on. He could mostly carry on conversations with the other guys, even if he didn't always understand the jokes and idioms. We still kept him and Theo next to each other in the locker room. They were great friends now, and they'd spent a good chunk of the off season training together along with Rusanov, whose stall was on Grekov's other side. If Grekov had had any worries about finding his place in this locker room when he'd come here, those worries seemed to be long gone.

He was planning to stay here a while, too. Days after the season had ended, he'd signed a five-year deal with the Rainiers with a no-move clause. Six weeks later, Theo, Rusanov, Marty, and I had helped him move into a condo not far from where Theo and I were living now. Then Grekov went on vacation for a couple of months, and he returned… with a ring on his hand and a husband in tow.

Turned out, he'd secretly been with Mikhail since their youth days in Russia. They'd talked about getting married once Grekov was situated in North America, though they'd both been hesitant because they weren't sure how a team would really accept an out gay hockey player. Grekov hadn't been sure about his previous team, largely because the language barrier made it too difficult to really get a bead on his teammates.

In Seattle, he'd made two Russian-speaking friends, and he'd witnessed for himself just how vehemently and unapologetically the Rainiers would have the backs of their queer teammates.

"After I heard Condit say that either Jack Hayes went or he'd demand a trade," Grekov told us over dinner a few weeks ago, "I called Misha. I told him we could be home here."

On the way home that night, I'd asked Theo, "Did you know he was gay?"

He'd nodded. "He begged me not to say a word to anyone. I told him it was fine—I was out and proud and everybody knew it—but he was still scared."

"Right up until he saw how everyone stood up for us."

"Exactly." Theo'd shaken his head. "He kept the Mikhail card close to his vest, though—I had no idea he had somebody."

Of all the reasons I was glad everything had blown up last season, it hadn't occurred to me that we'd had a closeted queer player just waiting for a sign that this team was safe. They'd been living thousands of miles apart, keeping their relationship a guarded secret, until they could be sure it was safe to step into the light.

The relief was plain to see in Grekov, too. He was less reserved off the ice, and on it, he played like he no longer had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

I would be forever grateful that the Seattle Rainiers had had our backs when Dad outed us, but that gratitude ran miles deeper for what they had unknowingly done for Grekov and his husband.

I made my rounds in the locker room, making sure everyone's gear was in working order, and then it was time for them to start warmups. One by one, the guys headed out, rainbow-taped sticks in hand. The coaches, trainers, and equipment managers brought up the rear, finding our places by the bench while the players hit the ice.

Gazing around at warmups, the thrill of Pride Night sank in all over again. People had signs, flags, banners, shirts, hats. The Rainiers had started selling Ally shirts—rainbow hoodies with ALLY printed down the sleeves, and I could see at least a dozen of them from here. From what the PR director had told me, the bids were already flying on the auctions for the signed Pride jerseys and sticks. It was too soon to tell how much the team would be donating to the homeless LGBTQ+ youth initiative, but it would be… a lot.

I hope you're watching this, Dad. I hope you're absolutely miserable knowing what we're doing without you.

My gaze landed on Theo, and I couldn't help smiling. The night he'd taped his stick in rainbow colors had been amazing. I just hadn't fathomed what wheels it had put into motion. That when I'd handed over the roll of stick tape to the bright-eyed forward from the minor team, I was making my first ever connection with the man I'd eventually live with.

We hadn't had to move into my condo, either. Theo had signed a three-year one-way contract with the Rainiers during the off season. Coach had told him that as long as training camp went well, Theo had a virtually guaranteed spot on the third line when the season started. His time on the Everett Orcas was, most likely, in the rearview.

So, we dropped the hammer and moved into a beautiful, sunny condo near Elliott Bay.

Training camp came and went, but it turned out Theo wouldn't be on the third line after all. He'd shined during camp, and he'd found some incredible on-ice chemistry with Maxwell, a dynamite center who'd signed with Seattle a few weeks earlier. Now Theo was firmly on the second line, playing alongside a former nineteenth overall draft pick, and they'd been tearing it up ever since the season started.

That wasn't to say the last several months had been perfect. For us, yes. Everything with Theo was amazing, even the little squabbles and annoyances that came with living together. Those never lasted long, and I mean—you couldn't have makeup sex if you didn't argue once in a while, so whatever.

But other aspects of my life had been… bumpier.

Despite his absolutely toxic bullshit, there were rumors that Dad might get picked up as a GM or a head coach elsewhere in the league. None of that had come to fruition yet, but given some of the utter asshats I'd seen at the helms of various clubs and teams, it wouldn't surprise me if someone finally signed him.

Wherever he went, he'd be going there alone. For all my dad had treated my mom like crap for their entire marriage, it was what he tried to do to me that finally drove her out the door. The surprise silver lining there was when Mom's lawyer used Dad outing me to leverage some flexibility with their prenup. Apparently some thinly veiled threats—mostly threats of tell-alls and interviews relating to how Dad had treated his gay son all his life—had persuaded my father to part with some assets in the name of keeping Mom quiet.

So, Mom was now living in a condo he'd bought her just north of Seattle. After they sold the house, she planned to put her portion in savings, and she'd live off that as well as her paycheck from the Rainiers. Alongside my brother-in-law—who'd gotten his job back—she was working in the team's public relations department. It wasn't the high life she'd had as the wife of Jack Hayes, but she had freedom she hadn't known since she was twenty. I had never seen her as happy and relaxed as she was these days.

It was a relief, being away from my dad and seeing my mom find life after him, too. I was glad my brother-in-law was back in the job he loved without Dad breathing down his neck.

But the process hadn't been fun. Mom and Dad's divorce was still in progress and would be for a while, and Dad still hadn't accepted that my sister and I were no-contact with him. He sent emails, he called—he even sent letters via snail mail. We blocked him everywhere we could and ripped up the letters that came.

The relief was huge, even if the process hadn't been fun. Now I had a better relationship with my mom, I was watching her and Aiden come back to life, and I still had both my job and the man I loved. Everything had worked out, even if getting here had been a little rough.

"Hey! Christian!"

I shook myself and turned toward the sound of my name. Over by one of the faceoff dots, I found Grekov waving me over. In front of him Theo was kneeling on the ice, trying and failing to stand.

A jolt of panic straightened my spine, but then my brain caught up. They were calling me over, not one of the trainers, so he wasn't hurt.

Grekov gestured at his own skate, then at Theo.

I nodded sharply, gave a just a minute gesture, and stepped back into the tunnel. I didn't know if Theo had lost his blade, broken it, or it had just come loose, so I grabbed an extra blade out of the case and hurried out onto the ice where he was waiting. During a game, he'd have to drag himself back to the bench—hopefully with a teammate to help him—and get it fixed while the game went on. During warmups? Eh. I could come to him.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," I said as I carefully made my way across the ice. When I was almost to him, I asked, "Did you lose it or break it?"

"Neither." Theo looked up at me. "My skate's fine."

I halted. "It's—then what—"

But then I realized he was smiling.

And he wasn't just kneeling—he was down on one knee.

And when he turned his glove over, there was a velvet box I'd have recognized from clear back on the bench.

"Theo…"

"I couldn't think of any better time to do this than Pride Night." He shook off his other glove, then opened the box, and as the stadium lights caught on the gold band, he asked, "Will you marry me?"

For a few seconds, my heart was pounding so hard, I couldn't hear anything except my pulse and his words. We were surrounded by his teammates and the fans, and I was distantly aware of them all cheering, but it may as well have just been him and me.

I managed a laugh just to get my breath moving, and I nodded. "Are you kidding? I'd be dragging you to Vegas right now if you didn't have game to play."

Theo laughed too, and he pushed himself to his feet—onto his perfectly intact skates—and collected me into a hug. "I love you," he murmured, and then he kissed me. Right there on the ice. In front of his teammates, the fans, the cameras, with my ring still in his hand, he kissed me.

All around us, sticks tapped on the ice and cheers went up from his teammates and the crowd.

"I've been thinking about this for a while," he said just loud enough for me to hear. "Tonight seemed like the perfect time."

"It was. It's… Have I told you lately how amazing you are?"

"Hmm, you have, but I'm always game to hear it."

I laughed and rolled my eyes. "All right, you dork. You need to get back to warming up."

"Okay. But let me make sure you get back to the bench safely."

I rolled my eyes again. I was perfectly capable of crossing the ice without skates on. Who was I kidding, though? I wasn't going to say no to my gorgeous hockey player boyfriend—gorgeous hockey player fiancé—escorting me off the ice.

As we neared the bench, the crowd still roaring all around us, Coach Baldwin shook his head and said to Theo, "Is that why you wanted to be miked up tonight?"

I eyed Theo. "Wait, you were miked up?"

Theo tried for an innocent smile but failed miserably. "Um. Yes?"

I laughed. "You dork."

"Always."

I just chuckled.

"Congrats, boys," Coach Baldwin said. "Beers are on me after the game." He inclined his head. "After the game. But we've sixty minutes of hockey to play between now and then, all right?"

"You got it, Coach." Theo kissed me lightly. "I gotta go warm up before I get in trouble."

"Yes, you do." I winked. "I'll see you after the game."

He bit his lip. Then he skated off to continue with warmups.

I leaned my hip against the bench, utterly dazed by what had just gone down.

Two years ago, after my dad had cancelled Pride Night just to be a dick, a kid from the PHL had defiantly put rainbow tape on his stick.

Tonight, with rainbows and love and support all around us, that same kid—now firmly ensconced in the NAPH—had put a ring on my finger right there on the ice.

This team, this league, these fans, this sport—this was my world. It was my family and my life.

And that gorgeous man wearing number sixty-one?

He was my future.