Page 171 of Beauty
Beckett holds out a hand and helps the jackass to his feet. “And this,” he says before driving his fist into the man’s stomach, “was obviously caused by the branch too. Now get the fuck out of here before my brothers ask for their turn, you piece of shit.”
My heart stutters in response to my brother’s tone. The only other time I’ve seen him lose it like this was when Liv’s ex-husband disrespected her.
“I-I-I’ll own this team when I’m done with you all,” Ezra stutters, swiping at his bloody nose and stumbling backward. “You saw it,” he says, pointing at War and Camden and Daniel, who are all watching with shocked expressions. “You saw the maniacs attack me for no reason.”
War crosses his arms and shrugs. “I saw you trip over that branch.”
Daniel nods. “Yup. And then you stepped on it, and it ricocheted up and hit you in the stomach.” He winces. “That musta hurt.”
Camden chuckles. “Looks like you got what you deserved.”
“You’re all fucking crazy,” Ezra yells. “I’ll own all of you.”
War takes a step forward, tipping his chin the slightest bit, and Ezra yelps like a fucking chihuahua. Then, probably scared that the notorious instigator will attack, he runs off, looking back with blood dripping down his face every few steps and tripping and falling twice before he makes it out of the park.
I blow out a long breath. “Did that really just happen?”
Noah brushes my hair back from my face. “You okay?”
Every man here watches me, each wearing a concerned expression. Noah’s right. We have a family here. A life. It means more than any job or any contract ever could. And thank god for that.
“Yeah,” I say. “Thanks to all of you.”
War pats Noah on the back. “Your girl’s got quite an arm on her.”
I grin at my brothers. “I learned from the best.”
“You want to go home?” Noah murmurs into my neck.
It hits me in this moment, right here, surrounded by my friends and family, wrapped in Noah’s arms, in this beautiful park in Boston, that I am exactly where I was always meant to be. This is my home. And that’s a thing of beauty.
EPILOGUE
Noah
My body buzzeswith a heavy dose of adrenaline. It’s a rush I haven’t felt in a long-ass time. It’s the type of electric energy that could light up Bolts arena all on its own. That could cure diseases and make a man reckless enough to get down on one knee two months after hard launching a relationship.
It’s the type of energy that makes a person feel immortal.
And it’s exactly how every man in this locker room feels. Because today we’re playing in the seventh game of the Stanley Cup Finals. It’s my last game as a Bolt. My last game in the NHL. And I want this win. With this team. With the men who have become my best friends and, hopefully, future brothers-in-law.
Because yeah, I’m reckless enough to get down on my damn knee. But first things first. It’s time to secure this win.
“Last game,” Brooks says as he settles on the bench beside me.
His headphones are around his neck, but any minute now, he’ll slip them over his ears and start his visualizing. As a goalie,Brooks has the most stressful job of us all. He’ll likely be on the ice for all sixty minutes of play while the rest of us will switch out in one-minute shifts. He’ll come up against two-hundred-pound opponents in head-to-toe gear and block upward of thirty shots sent toward his net.
On average, Brooks lets in one to two per game. Though he’s had quite a few shutouts in his career.
I’m banking on one tonight.
Since the night Ezra was fired, we’ve experienced this lightness, this electricity, this deeper chemistry. Like our bond grew that night and we became more than teammates. We became brothers.
Not just me and the Langfields. Hall, Snow, and War too.
And we’ve brought it back to the ice. To our team. We’re unstoppable.
Sure, Florida has eked out three wins in this series, but all the games have been close. Each one has come down to one flick of a damn wrist or one slip of a skate.
