EPILOGUE

BLADES & BREAKAWAYS

Epilogue: Forever On The Ice

Blake Sinclair's POV

The air inside the rink is sharp and cold, biting against my skin as I step onto the ice.

It's been a year since that night-the one where Ryker made his choice. The one where he chose me.

A year since he stood in front of the world, unshaken, unafraid, and finally free.

A lot has changed since then. The world watched as we fought through the storm-the backlash, the doubts, the interviews filled with questions that weren't really questions. They wanted me to be his weakness, and they wanted him to be my downfall.

But instead, we became each other's strength.

And now, here we are. Back where it all started.

The rink is empty, the overhead lights casting a soft glow over the untouched ice. It feels different now-not a battlefield, not a stage, but something simpler. Something that's just ours.

Behind me, I hear the familiar scrape of Ryker's skates gliding across the ice.

"Didn't think you'd actually show up," I tease, turning to look at him.

He smirks, rolling his shoulders. "Please. Like I'd pass up the chance to kick your ass on the ice."

I arch an eyebrow. "Big talk for someone who almost fell flat on his face the last time we skated together."

His smirk widens. "That was a performance. This is just fun. Big difference."

Fun.

I don't think I ever really understood what that word meant-not on the ice, not until now.

I push off first, gliding effortlessly across the rink. The cold air rushes past me, filling my lungs, and for the first time in years, I skate with no expectations.

No judges. No scores. No need to be perfect.

Just me.

Just him.

Ryker catches up easily, his movements strong, unpolished but confident. He's always been more force than finesse, more instinct than precision, but it suits him. It always has.

We move together, side by side, our skates cutting through the ice in perfect synchrony.

For a while, neither of us speak. We just exist-in this moment, in this place, in the quiet understanding that we don't need words to know what this means.

How far we've come. How much we've fought for this.

How much we've won.

Ryker breaks the silence first. "You thinking about competing again?"

The question doesn't catch me off guard. He's asked before. Others have, too.

But this time, I don't hesitate.

"No," I say, exhaling slowly. "Not right now."

Ryker hums in response, not pressing, not questioning. Just accepting.

Because he knows.

He knows that I've spent my whole life chasing a finish line I wasn't sure I even wanted to cross. That I've spent years trying to prove myself-to the judges, to the world, to myself.

And he knows that for the first time, I don't feel like I have to.

I don't need gold medals or perfect scores to feel like I've won.

I have this.

I have him.

Ryker slows to a stop, resting his hands on his hips as he watches me.

I tilt my head. "What?"

He shrugs. "Just thinking."

"Dangerous habit."

He grins. "Shut up."

I skate closer, stopping just inches away from him. "What are you thinking about?"

He exhales, his breath visible in the cold air.

"That night," he admits. "The charity event. The first time we skated together."

I blink, surprised. "What about it?"

His gaze flickers to mine, and for a moment, there's something unreadable there-something softer, something vulnerable in a way that still catches me off guard sometimes.

"I was terrified," he says. "Not just because I was terrible at skating, but because I knew-I knew if I let myself get too close to you, it would change everything."

My chest tightens.

I think about that night, too. About how we fought, how we pushed, how we almost let ourselves fall before pulling back at the last second.

And I think about how, in the end, we fell anyway.

But we fell together.

I step even closer, pressing my palm against his chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath my fingertips.

"And now?" I ask quietly.

Ryker leans down, his forehead resting against mine.

"Now, I wouldn't change a damn thing."

I smirk, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze.

"You know," I say, "I think I could still beat you in a race."

Ryker immediately narrows his eyes. "Oh, hell no."

I grin. "What, afraid of losing?"

"To you?" He scoffs. "Not a chance."

I slide back, my movements light and teasing. "Then prove it."

His expression shifts, something challenging and familiar sparking in his eyes.

"Race you to the end?" I whisper.

Ryker smirks. "Oh, you're on."

And then-we take off.

The ice hums beneath us, the world blurring away as we skate, faster and faster, laughter spilling from our lips.

Ryker gains speed quickly, his strength giving him an advantage, but I'm faster, lighter, built for this.

We weave around each other, pushing, teasing, neither of us really caring who wins.

Because this? This is the victory.

Not the medals. Not the trophies. Not the validation we spent years chasing.

This.

Him. Me. Us.

Skating side by side, with no finish line in sight.

I don't know who reaches the end of the rink first.

I don't think it matters.

The moment I stop, Ryker crashes into me, knocking me backward, and we both hit the ice in a tangled mess of limbs and laughter.

I groan, shoving at his chest. "You're a menace."

He just grins, propping himself up on his elbows above me. "You love it."

I roll my eyes, but I don't argue.

Because he's right.

Because I do.

Because after everything-the fights, the fears, the falls-we're still here.

We're always here.

Together.

Ryker leans down, brushing his lips against mine in a kiss that tastes like cold air and warmth and forever.

And as the snow falls softly outside the rink, as the world fades into the background, as his heartbeat thrums steady against mine-

I know this is it.

Not the end.

Not even close.

Just the beginning.