The Pucking Wrong Man: Epilogue

The crowd’s roar was deafening. The tension in the air tasted like ash on my tongue.

This is what I lived for.

Well, this and Anastasia James, but that one was obvious.

It was Game 7 of the Western Conference Championship against Denver, and we were down by one. The clock was ticking, each second a reminder of how close we were to the end.

I wanted this. I wanted this so fucking bad. If we could win, we’d be playing Tampa Bay in the finals. And I knew we could beat them. I could almost feel the Stanley Cup in my hands.

I chased the puck into the corner, just reaching it before I got slammed by fucking Jenkins, his shoulder driving me into the boards.

Fuck.

Sharp pain exploded in my shoulder…and my thigh. My thigh had been a constant nuisance the whole round, though, thanks to my darling little wife.

I took a deep breath, trying to focus on the ice in front of me. The memory of that night with the gang flashed through my mind, and I couldn’t help but smirk. We’d gotten drunk, celebrating winning the round, and somehow, Anastasia had convinced me to get “mine” tattooed on my upper thigh…in her handwriting. She’d said she wanted us to have a reminder of the night she’d danced for me, straddling my thighs before I’d forced her to her knees.

In my extremely drunken state, it had seemed like a great idea.

She had laughed hysterically when she sobered up the next morning and saw it.

The joke was on her, though, because the tattoo had been in exchange for her eloping with me, and I was now a married man.

Now, the sting of the tattoo was just a further reminder of how I was wrapped around her little finger.

And that was definitely okay with me.

The puck dropped, and I was back in the game. Logan was flying down the ice, his eyes sharp and focused. He weaved through Denver’s defense, and I shot the puck toward him, my heart pounding.

“Fucking shoot!” I shouted, but he didn’t need my call. He saw the opening and took it, his stick slicing through the air. The puck soared past the goalie and into the net, the red light flashing.

“Fuck, yes!” I yelled, pumping my fist as the crowd erupted. Logan skated over, a huge grin on his face.

“Good job, Rookie,” Ari screamed, pounding on his back as he skated by.

“Let’s finish this, boys,” Lincoln growled, and I was pretty confident that meant game over. Daniels was going to get us the last one.

He’d never let Logan show him up.

We lined up for the faceoff, twenty seconds left on the clock.

Logan skated beside me, his eyes locked onto the puck. He took control as soon as it fell. Dancing around the defenders, he weaved in and out, finally passing it to Lincoln who was waiting right in front of the net. Lincoln did some crazy move and pushed the puck backwards toward the goal—never even facing it.

Denver’s goalie lunged, but it was too late, he hadn’t been expecting a shot like that.

The puck hit the back of the net, and the arena exploded. A second later the buzzer sounded.

We’d won. Victory!

Lincoln collapsed to the ice as we toppled onto him, celebrating the win.

“We’re going to the Cup! We’re going to the Cup!” the crowd chanted.

Logan grinned up at me from the giant pile of players. “Hell yeah, we are!”

I was emotional as I took in the moment, breathing deeply for a second before searching for Anastasia’s face in the stands. She was up against the glass, her hands clasped in front of her, and even from here I could see that her eyes were shining with pride and joy.

I skated over to the boards near her, leaning in close.

“What did you think, Mrs. James?” I called out, grinning like an idiot.

She rolled her eyes because I used every excuse to say her new last name at least a million times since I’d gotten her to marry me. “That was hot…” she began, leaning close to the glass and mouthing the next word. “Sir.”

Daddy, Sir, Love of her fucking life, they all made me feral. Everything about her did.

I turned back to my teammates, the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I thought about what was next. I knew we could do it. We’d be celebrating like this again soon.

After we’d hoisted up the divisional championship trophy at the end of our award ceremony, I skated off the ice to grab my stuff from the locker room, wincing as I stretched my thigh to climb over the boards. Logan clapped me on the back. “That tattoo still feeling like a good idea?”

I grinned. “The dick one was always a good idea, Rookie.”

Logan’s jaw dropped and I winked. “Oh, was that not the one you were asking about?” I said innocently as Lincoln was passing by, making googly eyes at Monroe as he went.

“We talk way too much about dicks in this group,” Lincoln commented.

I huffed out a laugh. That was probably true.

Glancing back at Anastasia, still on the ice with the girls, I saw she was laughing at something one of them had said.

It was the really good kind of laugh, where you threw your head back and you felt it all the way down into your bones.

And even though Logan had already gone down the tunnel, I still answered him to myself.

“Best idea ever.”

Anastasia

The sunlight streaming through the window was unforgiving, piercing right through my pounding head. I groaned, rolling over to shield my eyes from the brightness. Camden was there, propped up on one elbow, freshly showered, eyes clear—like we hadn’t drunk our weight last night.

It was a little unfair.

“Good morning,” I rasped, my voice thick with the remnants of last night’s celebration. “I may have overdone it.”

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss against my cheek as he handed me an orange juice and two painkillers, forever taking care of me. “We did. But it was worth it.”

It took me some time to shake off my hangover. Camden eating me out before my shower, like a starving man helped, though. I was actually feeling human as we got into his truck to head out.

Today was Camden’s day to volunteer at the community kitchen.

And today was the first time I’d be volunteering with him.

I was quiet for the entire drive, already choked up from the emotion sitting in my chest as I thought about how much things had changed from that day I’d first met him in line.

Like how I didn’t have nightmares anymore.

Michael was gone, destroyed. Camden had been keeping tabs on him, and he’d told me they’d put Michael in a special care facility because he couldn’t do anything for himself. Talking, eating, using the restroom, taking pictures…they were all out of his reach now.

It felt like the sweetest ending possible.

And I hadn’t felt a second of guilt.

Dance had also become amazing again. I was partnering with Rudolf on another show and I’d finally been promoted to the senior ranks after the Showcase. Dallon had returned, a more humble version of himself, thanks to the tire iron, and I hadn’t had to speak with him once. And Madame Leclerc, she still hated me, but she was more civil about it. I could work with that.

I still wasn’t sure that my leg could handle being the lead for an entire ballet, but being the lead in the Company’s smaller showcases was still a dream come true.

Shaking my head, I thought about the biggest changes in my life…

Like how I was married to my soulmate, living in a penthouse, every day a dream.

I still wasn’t sure how I’d gotten here…

Camden let me be lost in my thoughts until we pulled into the parking lot. “Baby girl, you don’t have to do this. If you need some time…”

I was already shaking my head before he’d finished talking. “I want to do this,” I said fiercely. “It’s just a lot to process, you know? Just a few months ago, I was the one coming here to get food, and now I’m coming here to hand it out. I…I just can’t understand how I’ve gotten so lucky.” My face crumpled, tears sliding down my cheeks. “You saved my life, Camden James.”

“Baby girl. I hate when you cry,” Camden groaned, pulling me into his arms. I sobbed into his chest for a good five minutes until I was finally able to get a hold of myself, furiously wiping at my face because this was important, damnit. I could do this.

“Are you ready?” he asked gently, and I nodded, staring at the building through my window.

“Let’s go.”

The community kitchen was already bustling with activity as we walked in. The other volunteers greeted Camden, all of them casting me furtive looks, probably wondering where they recognized me from. Now that I was getting three meals a day, I’d filled out, not looking as bedraggled and desperate as I had when I’d come here weekly for food.

Freddie recognized me, though. “Ms. Anastasia!” he cooed, coming over to give me a hug before Camden let out a low growl that stopped him in his tracks.

Freddie’s answering grin was hilarious as he raised his eyebrows up and down. “You got your girl after all, Mr. Hockey Star. Not sure what she sees in you, but I’ll allow it.”

I giggled at Camden when he scoffed. “We have to get to work, old man. Let us pass.”

Freddie gasped dramatically, and I knew I’d spent too much time around Ari Lancaster, because it totally reminded me of him.

“Get to work then, both of you. Just try not to get jealous that I’ve got the turkey sub station today, Anastasia.”

I laughed. “Deal.” I was still grinning as Camden and I walked to our station.

“Love that smile on you, baby girl,” he murmured, sliding my hair off my shoulder so he could press a kiss to my neck. “Even if it was because of another man. Let’s just not make that a habit.”

“Yes, sir,” I purred, rolling my eyes at his possessiveness. My husband’s eyes glittered dangerously.

Husband. I was never going to get over that word.

I breathed in the familiar scent, memories flooding back. This place had been a lifeline for me, that was for sure.

“Ready?” Camden asked, squeezing my hand gently.

I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. “Yeah, let’s do this.”

We donned our aprons and got to work. Camden and I were assigned to the stew station. He served while I handed out bread and fruits and tried not to cry because my heart was so full the entire time we worked.

I recognized some of the regulars that had eaten here each week with me. They looked past me, probably not even thinking of the possibility that I could have been one of them not that long ago.

But I remembered them, the struggle etched into their faces was a reflection of my past. It was overwhelming. I wanted to help more, as much as I could.

“Mr. James!” a young boy said as he bounced toward us wearing one of Camden’s jerseys. His exhausted-looking mother trailed behind him, a small smile on her lips as she watched her son’s excitement.

“Hey buddy,” Camden smiled. “How were those seats the other night?”

Oh, this must be Sean! Camden had told me about him. He’d given him playoff tickets.

“It was the best night everrrrr,” Sean practically roared. Everyone around him turned, smiling at the happy little kid.

“Good to hear,” Camden laughed. “Have I replaced Lincoln as your favorite player yet?”

Sean looked torn, biting on his lip. “Well, maybeee. But that last goal was really, really good.”

Camden winked at him. “I get it. One of these days I’ll win you over.”

Sean gave him a high five and then headed to the next station where there were cookies waiting for him.

“Thank you,” his mom said softly, accepting bowls for the both of them. “It really makes his day seeing you.”

“Of course,” Camden said easily.

She smiled a soft, sad smile at the two of us and moved to the next station.

My heart felt like it was going to break just watching her walk away. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them back.

The hours passed quickly. Camden and I worked side by side, our movements in sync, like the perfect little team. And when the day was finished, and we’d stepped outside, the cool air a welcome relief after the heat of the kitchen, I’d somehow fallen even more in love with him.

“I want you,” Camden breathed as we stepped into the elevator to get up to our home. “You’re so fucking sweet. So fucking good. I’m desperate to fuck you.”

“Hmmm,” I murmured as his lips tortured my skin. “I’m desperate for that, too. I might even have a surprise for you.”

He inhaled sharply at that little reveal. “I like the sound of that,” he growled. “And when do I get my prize?”

“If you’re good, Daddy, you can get it right now.”

He moaned and bit down on my shoulder. “I can be very good, baby girl.”

The doors slid open and I stepped out into our entry. “I’m just going to make myself a bit more comfortable first,” I told him casually, pulling away and beginning to strip off my shirt…and then my leggings, so that it was easy to see the fact that his jersey number was now tattooed on the base of my spine.

“Fuck,” he rasped, and I began to count down silently in my head. The girls and I had gotten the tattoos as a surprise yesterday before the game. He’d gotten two tattoos for me…it only seemed fitting that I get one for him. Thanks to our drunken escapades last night, I’d been able to hide it from him until now.

One, two...I’d just gotten to three when he pounced.

And he must have really liked my surprise…because we didn’t stop making love all night.