Epilogue

15 years later

"Hayes, I have someone on the phone asking what time the 16u tourney starts on Friday."

"Um…check the schedule," he pointed to the desk. "It should be right there in that green binder."

"Oh…yup, here it is. Thanks."

Hayes left the front office and made his way into the lobby, where he spotted one of the mite coaches. "Yo, you seen my fuckin' husband? Been lookin' everywhere for him."

"I think…I'm pretty sure he's running d-drills out there with JT and a few of the other 16u boys."

Ryler Arena, since its grand opening two years ago, had become the place to go for youth hockey development in the Tampa area. Toward the end of their NHL careers, Hayes and Ryan had talked extensively about their desire to make Hayes's dream a reality: to open a hockey training facility with the goal of being able to help as many underprivileged kids as possible.

And they'd gone on to do just that.

In addition to providing an elite level of training both on and off the ice, the facility also offered scholarships, grants, employment opportunities, and financial assistance to families who needed it. They'd been featured in news broadcasts and articles all over the country and had won several awards for their amazing work in doing their part to make sure hockey truly was for everyone and that prospects weren't limited by their socioeconomic status.

As for their NHL careers, Ryan had been traded several times, having never really become a huge name, but having held his own as a steady 5-6 d-man. He retired from the Chicago Blackhawks four years ago, at age 36 after finding himself unable to keep up with these young thundercats anymore.

Hayes had become somewhat of a star and had remained with the Isles for his entire career, having hung his skates up the same year as Ryan at age 33, his shoulder unable to withstand any more injuries. They'd saved their money wisely, having invested enough to place a massive down payment on the facility, and the business had completely taken off.

Ryler Arena wasn't originally supposed to be in Tampa; they'd planned to break ground in Minnesota, but after Jake's unexpected death three years ago, they immediately relocated to Tampa to be a support system for Amara and JT, deciding to open the business there.

And JT DiMara, as it turned out, was one hell of a hockey defenseman.

This upcoming 16u tournament was critical, as JT was being scouted by several USHL teams, so Ryan had been working overtime making sure he was ready.

"What rink are they on?" Hayes asked.

"Kadin Memorial, I think."

"Thanks."

Both rinks at the facility had been named in memory of those Ryan and Hayes had lost too soon. Rink A was Baylor Memorial, in memory of Ryan's dad, and Rink B was Kadin Memorial, in memory of Travis Kadin.

Four years ago, Hayes received some of the worst news of his life.

He'd just gotten back from JT's practice, where he'd been helping to coach the team, and he found Ryan on the couch crying with his head in his hands.

"Rook? What's wrong?" He dropped his bag and rushed to his side.

"It's…Teek, man."

"Is he OK?"

Ryan shook his head, and Hayes had immediately fallen to the floor.

After putting up a valiant fight for so long, having ended up married with a gorgeous wife and two beautiful babies, Travis Kadin had ultimately lost his battle with addiction at the age of 32.

They were never able to determine if it was an intentional or accidental overdose, but Hayes had always felt in his soul that Teek just wasn't mentally able to fight his demons anymore. Hayes and Ryan had kept in touch with him, meeting up when their teams played each other and checking in every couple months or so, and the last time they'd talked, he'd sounded happy.

"My life is so amazing, baby. So much better than I could've ever pictured it. In case I never said it, Ty: thanks for saving me."

Most people would've taken that as a sign that TK was doing alright.

But Hayes, understanding the crippling depression went hand in hand with being an addict and the lengths to which addicts would go to lie about it, knew better.

Soon after TK's funeral, which had really fucked Hayes up, he'd relapsed, having gone on a brief alcohol binge to numb the intense emotional pain his friend's death had caused him to feel. Ryan had, of course, stuck by his side while he rode it out, and he was ultimately able to get himself sober again after just a few weeks off the wagon.

Though he'd recovered, he'd never really been quite the same since.

Hayes entered Kadin Memorial, smiling and nodding at the picture of TK that hung at the entrance next to the plaque, which listed his birthdate, death date, the words "Loving husband, father, friend, and teammate," and the SAMHSA number with the message "You don't have to do this alone." The picture was of him hoisting the Cup that he'd won with the Senators, the team's first ever Stanley Cup win. The absolute exuberance on Travis Kadin's face in that picture always helped bolster Hayes's will to keep fighting, knowing how proud TK would be of him if he could see him now and see all he and Ryan had been able to accomplish.

"Miss you, kid," he whispered, before climbing up to the very top of the stands, taking a seat so he could watch his husband work with JT, and pulling his latest project out of his backpack to crochet while he did just that.

Though both of them took on the role of coach from time to time, it was mostly Ryan who worked on the ice with the players, Hayes having taken charge of the business end of Ryler Arena. It turned out he was pretty good with numbers; combine that with a few online business courses and his "take no shit" attitude, it turned out he was a pretty damn good businessman, too.

He watched as Ryan ran a defensive icing PK drill with the boys, snickering to himself as Ryan had been infamous for, especially in his later years, icing the puck way too much. Hayes looked on in awe as JT stole the puck back from one of the forwards, deked around another, and took it right to the house, leaving everyone else in the dust. The wheels on that kid were something else, and Hayes knew that if he played his cards right, he was destined for greatness.

And teaching JT to play his cards right had become an important part of Ryan and Hayes's job, as they'd both stepped up and become father figures to the kid in Jake's absence. JT was very much like Hayes in the sense that he was good and he fucking knew it. The two of them had gotten into many fights over his arrogance, Hayes having warned against it.

"You might think you're great, OK? But one injury, JT. That's all it takes and you're cooked. You need to stay humble and you need to work as a team player," Hayes had told him recently over dinner one night after several of JT's teammates had complained to Ryan post-practice about him being a puck hog. "You can be the best player out there, but no one's gonna respect you if you constantly flaunt it. This game'll catch up with you real quick if you're not careful."

"I'm not you, OK? You know what? Fuck this," JT had shot back, standing up and tossing his napkin onto the table like was going to leave.

Hayes also rose to his feet. "Sit. The fuck. Down," he ordered calmly, and JT, after rolling his eyes into the back of his skull, did. Hayes gave JT a lot of leeway, knowing that he'd struggled with anger and depression since his father's death, something for which Amara had him in therapy. But he would also remind him who was boss when necessary. "You need to learn to take criticism because guess what? You wanna play? You've got an entire lifetime of it ahead of you. And some of it? Is fuckin' brutal."

"I'm…sorry."

"It's all good, man. You know I'm just tryin' to help you, right? Listen, I might be old, but I know a thing or two about this game, and so does your Uncle Ryan."

Both Hayes and Ryan had come to love JT like a son. They'd always talked about the possibility of having kids, but they ultimately never did because of the demands of their NHL careers and now the business. But JT was pretty much their default kid anyway. Neither of them could count how many times they'd woken up to him sound asleep on their couch after having "run away" from home, which usually coincided with Amara having gone on a date with a new man.

"What? You want her to be alone and miserable for the rest of her life?" Ryan had asked him one morning after finding him there.

"It's…not fair to my dad," he'd cried, as Ryan held his hand.

"He's not coming back, JT. I know it hurts. Believe me, I've been there. But your mom? Is one of the most amazing, strongest people on this planet, and if there's anything she deserves, it's a chance at happiness. Don't fuck that up for her, man. You know you're always welcome here, but she worries about you and she loves you more than anything in this world."

They'd been there for him through all the rites of passage that he'd been way too embarrassed to share with his mom. They'd nursed him through his first hangover, been there for him when he'd been dumped by the older girl to whom he'd lost his virginity, they'd picked him up from the police station when he and some friends had been detained for smoking weed in a skate park at two in the morning, and most memorably, for the mother of all conversations.

"I can talk to you guys about…stuff, right?" he'd asked from the backseat of the Lincoln Navigator as Ryan and Hayes drove him home from practice one night.

"Of course, man." Hayes had answered immediately.

"And you won't tell my mom?"

"That part's not guaranteed, bud. There's a threshold. Don't cross it."

"Fine." He took a deep breath. "How'd you guys know you were gay?"

Both Ryan and Hayes shot each other a look.

"Uh, Hayes? You, uh, you wanna take this one?"

"Nope."

For obvious reasons, neither of them had ever planned to divulge to JT the series of events that had led to them discovering their attraction and love for each other, considering the huge role his mother had played in all of it.

"Is there a reason you're asking, or like, are you just genuinely curious?" Ryan responded.

"Um, so please don't tell my mom. But, like, I was at this party last night in the woods, and…I kinda sorta did some…stuff with a few of my teammates. And I didn't hate it."

"A few?" Hayes had yelled. "Damn, man. I'd barely even kissed anyone at your age. Kid's out here gangbangin' half his hockey team."

"Well, you're kind of a loser, so there's that," JT had teased.

Hayes had debated hitting him with a "Your mom didn't seem to think so," but ultimately decided against it, having developed somewhat of a filter with age.

"So, listen, JT. That's normal," Ryan had told him. "It's totally normal to experiment. And you don't have to put a label on yourself, OK? But one thing I can absolutely promise you with 100 percent certainty? If you ever come out to your mom, she will not care. She will love you regardless."

"Yeah, no shit,"he'd replied immediately. "I'm not worried about that. I just don't want her to know I was at a party. She thinks I was sleeping at a friend"s house."

Ryan had exhaled. "Right. I knew that."

"He still going after that damn Michigan?"

Amara's voice startled Hayes back to the present. He put his crochet project down on the bleachers as she handed him a Wawa coffee and had a seat next to him.

"Nah. Told him to knock that shit off and focus on his blue line skills. Scouts don't wanna see any of that showboatin' shit." He took a sip of his coffee and looked over at her. "Babe, if you lose any more weight, we're not gonna be able to find you when you turn sideways. You're shrinkin' away to nothin'."

She smiled faintly, setting her own coffee down and placing a hand on his leg. "Tyler?"

He set his down, too, resting his hand on top of hers, concerned by the tone in her voice. "What's up?"

"So, I…um, I need a really big favor from you and Ryan. Like, I'm talking monstrous."

"Sorry to burst your bubble, babe, but we're not into chicks anymore. Besides, you're, like, really fuckin' old now. You hit that wall, you know?" When she didn't even crack a smile, he started to panic. "Amara, what is it? What's wrong?"

"So, I went to the doctor this week…"

A fog enveloped his brain as he struggled to process the series of sentences that followed, unable to compute them but picking up on random words instead.

Cervical cancer.

Very aggressive.

Nothing they can do.

About five weeks.

You and Ryan.

Take care of JT.

"Tyler? Do you understand what I'm saying?" she asked, as he stared ahead blankly. "Do you understand what I'm asking? I know it's a lot, but I don't…there's nowhere else he can go. I have…I have no one, Tyler."

"Mar, come on. You're not even gonna try treatment? What if..."

She shook her head. "It's way past that point, Ty. It's…everywhere."

A lengthy silence ensued.

"Are you scared?" he finally asked quietly, clutching her hand as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"No. Oddly enough, I've kinda…I've made peace with it. I mean, I certainly have my moments. I can't describe it, but it's…I'm OK. I just worry about," she said, pointing to the ice, where JT was practicing his passing in the defensive zone with Ryan while skating backward, "that one. First his father, and now this. I worry that it's going to destroy him, Ty."

"Nah, fuck that. JT's one of the toughest kids I know. He'll be OK. We'll make sure of it." He hung his head, shaking it a bit and wiping his eyes. "Fuck, Mar."

"I know." She lifted his hand to her face and kissed it, keeping hold of it as she brought it back down to his leg. "So, can you talk to Ry about it soon? There's a lot of legal shit involved in…"

"There's nothin' to talk to Rook about," he interrupted. "We'll take him. Of course we'll fuckin' take him. Love that kid like a son anyway. You know that."

"Thank you," she whispered. "He loves you, too. Both of you."

They sat there together, watching the rest of the practice in silence, both of them smiling when JT ended with the Michigan, busting out the "Jagr salute" celly and skating over to the boards, banging against them. He waved to both of them and shouted, "You see that fuckin' shit, Ty? Baller!"

"Jacob Tyler, watch your mouth!" Amara yelled to him.

"Sorry! Ow!" he shouted back, as Ryan whacked him on the back of his helmet.

"So, you haven't told him?"

"Not yet. I wanted to make sure it was OK with you guys first."

"You know there's nothin' in this world I wouldn't do for you, babe. Rook, too. Consider it done."

"He's…a challenge, Ty. You know that, right?"

"Yeah. And in other news, water's fuckin' wet."

"I'm just warning you, that's all. He can be quite a handful."

"OK, for one, I'm married to Rook, who's, like, the dictionary definition of a handful. And two, have you met me?"

"He really respects you, Ty. He always has. You two are…" she paused. "You two are a lot alike. A lot."

Ty shrugged. "Greatness respects greatness," he joked, before wiping his face again, unable to hold back the tears he'd been fighting for the past few minutes. "I'm sorry, Mar. I'm so fuckin' sorry."

"Don't be," she said, reaching up and wiping the tears from his face, noticing Ryan staring at them, able to tell that something wasn't right. "I've lived one hell of a life, and I take comfort in knowing that all three of my boys will take care of each other and help each other through this."

Hayes nodded. "Fuckin' right we will."