Page 132 of Arrogant Puck

So hot.

So mine.

Three Months Later

Epilogue

The late afternoon sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the sports medicine clinic, casting golden light across the treatment tables where I’ve just finished my last patient of the day. I pull off my gloves and wash my hands, allowing myself a moment to appreciate how perfectly this job fits me.

When I was offered the position as lead PTA for elite athletes, I thought it was too good to be true. A dream job working with professional and collegiate athletes, helping them recover from injuries and return to peak performance. The pay is incredible, the hours are flexible, and every day brings new challenges that keep me engaged and excited.

Tonight is the night Slater has been working toward all season. The scouts have been attending all his games, watching his performance, evaluating his readiness for the next level.

Today, they are supposed to make their decision about the NHL draft.

I pack up my things and head home, my stomach fluttering with nervous excitement. Slater’s been acting casual about it all week, saying that Archer is looking down on him. He’s known for years, apparently, that he would get into the draft, so we’ll see if his arrogance serves him right.

When I pull into our driveway—and yes, it's officiallyourdriveway now, since I moved all my things into his bedroom two months ago—I notice his car is already here. That could be good news or bad news.

I let myself in through the front door, dropping my keys in the bowl we picked out together last weekend.

“Slater?”

“Baby, get your ass over here,” he says, and something in his tone makes my heart skip.

I find him leaning against the counter, still in his practice clothes, holding his phone. But the expression on his face is unreadable.

“So?” I say carefully, searching his eyes for clues.

He holds up his phone, and I can see it’s a call that just ended. “That was Coach Brennan from LA.”

My heart stops. “And?”

A slow smile spreads across his face, the kind of smile that transforms his entire expression from brooding to radiant. “They want me.”

The words don’t register at first. “Me too.”

He smiles, wetting his lips as he approaches me.

“They’re offering me a contract, Sage. The fucking NHL wants me.”

I scream. Actually scream, the sound echoing through the kitchen as I launch myself into his arms. He catches me easily, spinning me around. Tears fill my eyes as he laughs into my hair.

“Oh my god, oh my god!” I'm crying, pressing kisses all over his face. “I’m so proud of you! I’m so happy for you! Slater!!”

He points up at the sky, kissing his fingers. “I fucking love you, Archer. You knew it, brother. We fucking did it!”

He picks me again in a giant hug.

“You fucking did it!” I squeal.

“We did it,” he says, setting me down but keeping his arms wrapped around me. “We fucking did it, baby.”

“You did it,” I correct, but he shakes his head.

“No,we did. You put me back together when I was broken. You believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. You made me better, Sage.”

The sincerity in his voice makes my throat tight with emotion. “You were always going to make it, Slater.”

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