Epilogue

Rosie

8 months later

It was the Peaks’ first game of the season—and my first game as Dylan Savage’s fiancé. I had on his jersey, as did half the arena, but mine was the only one that was actually his .

An entire section of people who loved Dylan surrounded me.

All three of my brothers had come to the game.

As did Hudson and his parents, along with Shiloh’s wife, Amelia, and their daughter. The team had honored Shiloh before the game, and there hadn’t been a dry eye in sight. They’d given out navy hats with Shiloh’s number on it, making the arena a sea of blue.

Charlie wore head-to-toe navy blue and held blue pom-poms. Her wedding was in three weeks, so I hadn’t expected for her to come with us, but I was glad she had. I hadn’t seen her in almost a month, and I’d missed her.

Sheriff and Mrs. Savage (or Ken and Bonnie as they insisted I call them) were there, along with a frowning Lily, who’d refused to wear the Peaks jersey, but did have the hat on.

Lily and I weren’t quite as frosty toward each other as before. We still didn’t talk or anything, but I’d stopped kicking her mailbox down, and she nodded her head in hello every once in a while when I was hanging out with Charlie. Baby steps, since she was going to be my sister-in-law after all.

The only downside to marrying Dylan, really.

Be nice, I told myself.

The team skated out of the locker room to their entrance music, and I was disappointed to hear that they had not taken my advice and rocked out to Natalie Cole.

Instead, it was all bass guitar and drums as an announcer yelled, “Everyone on your feet!”

We jumped to our feet and screamed, and I forgave Dylan the instant that I saw him. He’d grown his hair out longer for the season, so he had it pulled back into an elastic band, and he’d informed me this morning that he wasn’t going to shave until the Peaks’ won the championship. I had no doubt that they’d win. Of course they would. They had Dylan, who was playing better than ever.

As the teams got into position, my brothers leaned close to the barrier separating us from the players. The crowd was chanting, “Let’s go, Dylan!” while my brothers had modified it to, “Go home, Dylan.”

I gave them some serious side eye but was distracted from asking them what in the world they were doing by my phone buzzing.

It was Max.

Max : Sold the seascape and the cat-mermaid painting today (the one with the silvery tail.)

Rosie : Oh, yay! Thank you.

Max : We’re down to about ten stickers total. Will you have a chance to order more? The new octopus wearing a bowtie is completely gone.

Rosie : I ordered more last night. I have a new design I just finished and included it as well. You should get the shipment by Tuesday.

Max : Perfect. Enjoy the game! We’re all at the Icy Asps. Everyone screams when we see one of you on screen.

A few months ago, I’d decided to get rid of my store front and sell my paintings exclusively in Max’s bookstore and online. We’d started out with a small corner, but now my paintings were hung throughout the store, and we’d added stickers, small prints, and bookmarks.

And a wild thing happened. People loved my sillier paintings just as much as my serious ones. A magazine even featured my Whimsical Delights collection, and sales had been steady ever since.

Partnering with Max not only freed me up to paint more, but it allowed me to be flexible with my location. This way I could spend the hockey season in Montana with Dylan, and the off-season in Winterhaven.

Dylan was up. He leaned close for the face-off. This was it. His moment. I held my breath as the ref dropped the puck, and Dylan got control of it.

“Beast? More like Beauty!” Jules yelled.

“Hustle!” Haydn yelled, when Dylan skated close.

“Learn how to play, Beast!” Bennett yelled after he got a goal.

I finally turned to my brothers with folded arms. “What in the world is going on?”

“We’re chirping at him.” Bennett grinned. “You saw the list.”

“The ‘Torture the Beast’ list?” I asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” he said.

“But we’re together. And you like him.”

“Oh, we love him,” Jules said, leaning across Bennett to answer. “But a good list is a good list.”

I rolled my eyes and focused on the game. Once it got going, my brothers forgot their heckling and started cheering with everyone else.

And I don’t think I breathed fully again until the Peaks won the last goal, and the entire game.

Dylan was the first to exit the locker room after the game. I threw myself into his arms and breathed in his freshly showered scent as I pressed my mouth and nose to his neck. He picked me all the way up off my feet and tugged me close.

Being with Dylan for the last eight months had been like an actual fairy tale come true. Whenever he hugged me, it was the most love I’d ever felt.

His gaze darted over my shoulder to a group of kids standing in a huddle, each holding a marker and a jersey in their hands.

They were adorable.

Dylan walked over to them and began to sign all of their jerseys for them, asking them questions until all their nerves were shaken away. Cameras went wild around us, but I knew Dylan wasn’t doing this for the press. Or for his image.

He was doing this because he’d finally allowed himself to remember what it was like to be that kid.

He signed for a few more minutes and then took my hand as the rest of the team started to spill out of the locker room. We were meeting everyone at a restaurant in thirty minutes. Which gave me just enough time to haul Dylan into a dark corner and give him the kiss of a lifetime.

For some mysterious reason, we could never agree that we’d hit that perfect ten.

Good thing we had the rest of forever to practice.