Center Ice (Boston Rebels Book 1)
Center Ice: Epilogue

AUDREY

Five Months Later

“We’re going to fully wrap up the project at your mom’s house by the end of this coming week,” I tell Drew as we trail behind Graham on the bike path along the Esplanade.

Between the cold weather and the months it took for Graham’s broken arm to fully heal—during which he couldn’t play hockey or do anything very physical—winter was rough. But now that the weather is nice, Drew has been bringing him here frequently, first to teach him how to ride his bike on his own, and now to practice.

I happened to come along the first time Drew let go of Graham’s bike and our son rode unassisted, and I managed to capture the whole moment on video. It feels like he’s changing so fast these days, and I’m happy to be able to savor some of those milestones and to see him spending quality time with his dad.

On this particular Saturday afternoon, Graham is zipping ahead of us, then turning and riding back to us, on repeat as we walk behind him.

“I honestly think my mom is going to miss having everyone around all the time,” Drew says.

We’d been so worried that she wouldn’t be able to deal with the noise and the constant flux of people in and out of her house during the remodel we were doing on the first floor of her house, but somehow, she’s not only adapted, but thrived. She adores Jules, who can do no wrong in her eyes. She’s loved having me over there frequently checking on things. And she hasn’t minded having the few other contractors in and out of her house.

“You know, that got me thinking,” I say as Graham calls out to us and shows us how he can ride around in small circles without falling. We clap and Drew tells him what a good job he’s doing. “Do you think she’d want to get involved in the local senior center? I’m sure she’s a bit younger than most of the folks there, but she loves being around people. Maybe she could volunteer there or something?”

Drew glances over at me with that never-ending affection radiating from his face. I got so freaking lucky with this man.

“I think it’s a great idea,” he says. “Maybe we can look into the opportunity.”

“I—” I bite my lip as he looks over at me. “I sort of already did.”

He wraps his arm around my shoulder and squeezes me to him as we walk, then plants a kiss on the top of my hair. “Of course you did. And?”

“And they’d be happy to have her come in a couple times a week and help out. If she’s interested.”

“You should ask her,” he says. Of all the wonderful things that have happened to me in the last seven months, gaining a bonus mom myself was the most unexpected. But Drew’s mom has been nothing short of wonderful—supportive and loving without being overbearing. She’s so much like I imagine my mom would have been if she’d lived to see me as a mother myself.

“I will,” I tell him, knowing that we’ll be seeing her in another hour or so. Our friends and family are all coming to our place to celebrate Drew—because not only did the Rebels offer him a new contract, it was a significant improvement over his old one. Obviously, trades or injuries are always possible in hockey, but it appears that he’s going to be playing for the Rebels for the next six years. And that deserves a celebration.

We take the footbridge from the Esplanade over Storrow Drive once we reach BU’s campus. We’ve been promising to show Graham the “BU Beach” since Drew first used the term a couple of months ago. We had to explain to our son that it’s not a beach at all, but rather a grassy area behind Boston University’s Marsh Plaza that borders the very busy Storrow Drive. But BU lore has it that if you sit on the grassy quad with the grassy knoll blocking the view of Storrow, the sound of the cars is reminiscent of waves.

The area is absolutely packed with college students when we arrive, because any time there’s a nice day, people flock there for the sunshine and open space.

“So you guys used to study here?” Graham asks, looking around at the students in their shorts and t-shirts, spread out on blankets, a variety of music playing from portable speakers throughout the area. There’s laughter and talking, a few students throwing around a frisbee, a group of people sitting together in a small circle playing harmonicas and singing. It’s chaotic and busy, and not the kind of environment you’d imagine studying in.

“Well,” Drew says, “not sure how much studying happened, but we met here a couple times, right at the end of the school year. Like right now”—he nods to all the students as we walk Graham’s bike along a path through the grass—“all these people are getting ready for finals. Because at the end of the school year, you have a big test called a final in each class. Your mom helped me get ready for my final in my math class.”

In reality, we got about as much studying done on the BU Beach as these students are doing now. Which is why we’d inevitably end up next door, in the library, where Drew would comment on how the coconut scent of my sunscreen was distracting him.

“Because she’s the smart one?” Graham asks. I know he’s just repeating Drew’s words, but I hate the perception that his dad isn’t smart enough.

I give Drew the stop saying that shit look over Graham’s head. “Because while there’s lots of things your dad is great at, I happen to be particularly good at math.”

“Like me,” he says. He’s learning to add in kindergarten and it’s coming very easily. He’s able to subtract, too, even though they haven’t really started learning that yet.

“Like you,” I confirm.

“And I’m good at hockey like Dad,” Graham says, looking up with the same stars in his eyes that he had the first time Drew skated onto the rink at his practice. The fact that his dad is a professional hockey player has not gotten old for this kid.

“Very true,” Drew says, reaching down and patting Graham’s shoulder.

We walk down Bay State Road, showing Graham the brownstone that served as my dorm junior and senior year, and then the larger dorm that housed basically the whole hockey team a few blocks away. The fourth floor of that dorm wasn’t officially the “hockey floor,” but that’s how we all referred to it.

By the time we’re back to Beacon Street, a text from Jules comes in.

JULES:

I’m here with the food, so get your butts home.

After all the cleaning and prepping for the party this morning, we really needed to get Graham out for a while. I know Jules is happy to help, and that she’s undoubtedly already got Colt and Jameson carrying dishes and trays of food into our place, but we also need to get back and help with the final touches.

Plus, it’s hotter than I expected out here, and now I’m kind of a sweaty mess. “I’d love to grab a quick shower when we get back, before everyone else gets to our place,” I tell Drew.

Drew looks at me over Graham’s head and mouths, Can I help? and I widen my eyes in the Stop it! look I replace myself giving him often. It’s useless, though. I don’t think he’s ever going to stop wanting to get me alone and naked. And I replace that I’m perfectly okay with that fact.

“Go ahead.” He shrugs. “Graham and I can make sure everything’s all set so you can shower, right, Bud?”

The two exchange a look I can’t decipher, which seems to be happening more and more these days, almost like they have their own father-son language.

“Sure, Dad.”

DREW

“Where’s Audrey?” Jameson asks as he comes into the kitchen.

“Still getting ready,” I say.

Across the island, Jules rolls her eyes as the buzzer rings again, signaling more people arriving, while her sister is still in our bedroom. I don’t know what the big deal is. Audrey wants to look nice for our party, and it’s not like we don’t have everything under control out here.

“I’m going to check on her,” Jules says, and heads down the hallway toward our bedroom. She stops to bend down and says something to Graham, who nods and gives her a little smile. Then she continues down the hall to our room.

Next to me, Colt’s eyes track Jules before sliding back toward me. “So I’m stuck with you for six more years?”

“Like you’re still going to be around in six years, old man.” I elbow him in the side, and he doesn’t even budge. He’s a fucking brick wall, even in the back half of his thirties.

“Hey now,” both Colt and Jameson growl, and I burst out laughing.

“Is that, like, the old man thing to say when you’re called on your age?” I’m pretty sure Jameson’s a couple of years older than Colt, but they’re both still a lot older than me. At this point, Colt has been playing for Boston for going on two decades. I don’t know how the man’s knees still work.

“First of all,” Jameson says, “you better cut that shit out if you want me to keep getting contracts for you.” In addition to the contract with Boston, he recently negotiated my first big endorsement deal—and that alone will pay for any medical care my mom will need for the rest of her life. “And second, stop acting like a child. You’re almost thirty.”

I huff out a laugh. “I turned twenty-nine two weeks ago.”

“It’s so cute listening to you guys argue about your ages,” Lauren teases as she walks up behind Jameson, circling her arms around his waist and squeezing. “I think it proves you’re all just the same level of immature, so your ages don’t really matter.”

Jameson turns and bends his head, nipping at Lauren’s ear so that she squeals and backs away, and he follows her.

And that’s when Audrey emerges from the bedroom, with Jules trailing behind her. Her dark hair is down, the loose curls falling over her bare shoulders. Cheeks pink, her face is glowing, and those gorgeous full lips have a hint of gloss. She literally takes my breath away, over and over, all the freaking time.

She walks toward me, the black t-shirt material of her sundress hugging her curves, and the bottom flowing around her knees. The whole thing is held up with two tiny satin straps on her shoulders. Everything else going on around me fades away and I only see her. When she reaches me, she leans up on her toes to give me a quick kiss.

I must be getting much better at the whole self-restraint thing, because I don’t run my hands along those seductive curves and slide my thumbs under the straps of her dress like I really want to. Instead, I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her to me as I whisper, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

She laughs lightly, and says, “Thanks.” She’s getting better at taking compliments.

Behind her, I watch Graham unzip his sweatshirt and toss it on the couch, and I know it’s game time. “You’d better start saying hi to our guests,” I suggest, as I kiss her forehead, and then guide her hips away from me so there’s a sliver of space between us. I hate it when I’m not touching her, but I need her to stop focusing on me so she sees Graham.

“Alright,” she agrees, and turns to start saying hello and thanking people for coming.

“How long do you think it’ll take her to notice?” Jules asks quietly as she comes up next to me.

“No idea. But I probably should stick close to her, so I’m there when she does notice.”

“Probably a good idea.”

“I’ll be shocked if someone doesn’t accidentally spoil it.” My money’s on Caitlyn and her overly dramatic reactions to everything, but I don’t say that to Jules because the two of them seem to get along well. Plus, my relationship with Caitlyn really is so much better than it was.

“Nah,” she says. “Everyone’s going to love it so much, they wouldn’t dare ruin the surprise.”

“You didn’t tell Colt, did you?” I ask, watching Audrey chat with Missy and my mom.

“I told you I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Well, you do live with the man.” I look for Graham, trying to make sure I’m still close enough to Audrey in case she sees him and his shirt.

Jules’s laugh is a snort. “Not by choice. And it doesn’t mean I swap secrets with him.”

“I don’t need to know anything about what you two are swapping–”

She slaps my arm hard and laughs, saying, “Ew, stop it. That’s so gross.”

“Let’s just hope he knows how to keep it cool when he sees Graham’s shirt.” Colt’s the biggest kid of them all, so maybe I should be more worried about his reaction than Caitlyn’s.

“Your message in the group chat was very clear. You’ve got a surprise planned, and when people realize what it is, they need to not act suspicious. I’m sure most people have guessed.” She nudges me in the side. “Go on, get your girl.”

I don’t know why I’m nervous as I come up behind Audrey, where she’s now talking to her brother, but I am. I face two hundred-and fifty-pound giants who are trying to pummel me while I skate around the ice on literal knife blades, and it doesn’t faze me. But give me a five-foot-six brunette with the brightest blue eyes who holds the key to all my future happiness, and suddenly I have fucking butterflies roaming around my stomach.

I scan the room, and Graham is walking around with his chest puffed out, like he wants people to start noticing his shirt. And they do. I see it in the way Lauren’s hand flies to her mouth, her lips formed in a silent ‘O.’ I see it in the way Walsh shifts his baby to his other arm as he turns to look at me and nods in approval. I see it when Colt’s eyes widen, and he looks over at Jules like he might murder her. I see it when my mom grips Missy’s hand and her eyes fill with tears. I see it on the faces of every person who loves us as they realize what they are about to witness.

After another minute, the only people in the room who don’t seem to know what’s happening are Audrey and Jameson, because their heads are tucked together in conversation. When Graham looks at me, I give him a little nod and he walks toward Audrey.

The room has gotten quieter. The music still plays in the background, but people are so focused on Audrey that it’s like they’ve forgotten to carry on the conversations they were having. So Graham’s voice rings out when he says, “Hey, Mom, can you tie my shoe for me.”

“Sure, Bud,” she says as she turns and looks down at him. I’m only a step behind her when she gasps. I guess she finally noticed the Dad wants to know if you’ll marry him? shirt Graham’s been walking around the party wearing for the last five minutes.

She starts to turn, like she’s looking for me, and the minute our eyes meet, I drop to one knee directly behind her, holding the ring box out in my hand. Her hand flies to her chest as her eyes fill with tears. This proposal is not unexpected—I’ve been saying for months that I’m going to marry her soon—but I guess the timing is.

“You may be wondering,” I say while looking up at her, “why I’m proposing in a room full of people when I know what a private person you are, and how much you hate being the center of attention.”

Her chest shakes with laughter as a small smile graces her lips. “Pretty much.”

“The truth is, I couldn’t imagine proposing without our friends and family being part of this moment. Many of the people in this room have been there for you and Graham since before I was in the picture. And everyone here helped get us to this point in one way or another.

“For years, I thought I wasn’t ready to settle down, but now I realize that I just hadn’t found the right person yet, because nothing about being with you and Graham feels like settling. There is no place I’d ever rather be than right next to you. You’re the person I think about before I skate out for a game, the one I look for when I line up at center ice, the one I can’t wait to get back to the hotel and call when I’m away.” In the background, my teammates laugh because they’re always giving me shit for rushing back to talk to her instead of going out.

“You welcoming me back into your life and letting me be a father is the most precious gift you could have possibly given me. And I want everything with you, the exciting moments and the mundane. I want the Stanley Cup championship celebration”—cheers go up around us because we’re headed into the next round of the playoffs this week—“and I want to watch cartoons in our pajamas on Saturday mornings as a family. Because none of it, from the happiest moments to the most difficult, would mean anything if you weren’t by my side.

“And when I finally watch you walk down the aisle to me, and when we grow our family, and when I’m too old to play hockey and you’re exhausted from all our kids…we’re still going to be surrounded by the people who are in this room right now.”

There are tears streaming down Audrey’s face, but I’ve never seen her smile quite so big. And as I stare up at her, she raises her eyebrows at me, but I’m too transfixed on her face to understand what she’s trying to tell me.

“Were you…going to ask me something?” she says.

Around us, people’s laughter fills the air, and Graham steps up beside me and uses his six-year-old whisper voice, which is only slightly below his yelling voice, to say, “I think you’re supposed to say, ‘Will you marry me?’”

I open the ring box. “Audrey Marie Flynn, will you marry me?”

She stares down into the box, to the big round diamond surrounded by smaller triangles of diamonds to make the shape of a sun. For a moment, she doesn’t speak. And then she says, “Is that…?”

She understands the significance of me choosing a sun.

“Yes.”

“Oh my goodness.” She stands there, eyes focused on the ring box, completely mute.

“Were you…going to answer the question?” I tease.

“Say. Yes,” Graham says in his stage whisper, and again, the room erupts in laughter.

“Yes. Without question, absolutely yes!”

I stand and take the ring out of the box, slipping it on her finger before she throws her arms around my neck. “I can’t believe you got me a sun-shaped ring,” she whispers.

“You are my sun, Audrey. You’re the center of my whole universe, the star that Graham and I are lucky enough to orbit around. And you always will be.”

She squeezes me tight, burying her face in the crevice between my shoulder and neck. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Forever.”