It’s Mother-Pucking Christmas!

Epilogue - Ryder

EPILOGUE - RYDER

T he Direwolves home stadium was loud and enormous. It was like being in a spaceship. The crowd stamped their feet, cheering along as we waited to go out on the ice for the first game of the season.

“Welcome to the NHL!” Steve, the Direwolves goalie grinned at me and adjusted the straps on his face mask, which was painted with a yellow-and-black abstract wolf mouth.

“Mr. Popular,” Philly joked as we stepped onto the ice to the roar of the fans, many of them wearing my jersey number or holding up signs with my face on them.

McCallahan grinned, skating backward. “Dayum! College Boy filled a stadium and hasn’t even lost his Direwolves virginity yet.”

Yeah, the nickname had followed me from Maplewood Falls. As soon as the guys had seen Rick and my old Icebreakers teammates surprise me after practice with a sign, it had stuck.

“I can’t believe I’m here,” I said in awe as I stared at the yellow-and-black sea of twenty thousand.

“Screw your fucking head on! What the fuck are you doing, College Boy!” Yeah, that was Coach Kowalski. Red-faced and furious. “You better fucking win this, or so help me god!”

“Is he gonna make it through the game?” Philly joked.

I’d studied his and the rest of the team’s plays—how they shot, how they used the ice—it was all banked in my head.

I can do this.

Dakota and her family—my family—were there, cheering loudly from the stands. So were my old Icebreakers teammates and the seniors from the retirement community.

I wasn’t going to let anyone down. We were going to win this.

From the stands, something barreled through the fans toward the rink barrier, easily clearing the high Plexiglas.

“No!” I yelled as a husky careened onto the ice to gasps of surprise from the crowd.

The other hockey players on my team laughed when Dasher, now at his full height and weight, launched through the skaters.

“Sorry,” I called as the ref blew his whistle angrily. “Sorry! Dasher, no!”

Ignoring me, the dog chased a puck to laughs from the players and fans.

I sprinted after him on my skates and scooped him up like a baby. The dog whined in my arms as I skated him over to the wall and dumped him back into the penalty box. Dakota was making her way down then grabbed Dasher’s collar, leading him away while the dog looked guilty for the camera.

Sweating under my uniform, I stood there during the national anthem, trying to refocus and look like a professional, like I belonged.

Then the game started, and it was like I was home.

I liked playing on the Icebreakers, don’t get me wrong. But the NHL? The game was magic.

I could hear Coach Kowalski hollering and cursing from the stands and Dakota and her family cheering, but it was all filtered through frosted wool.

All I focused on was the puck, the ice, the game.

These players on the Direwolves? Best of the best.

Sure, the Boston NHL team we played against was a machine.

But we were better.

Philly scored the first goal and the second, with an assist from me. I got the third.

We kept the puck near the other team’s goal as much as we could, tangling with the defensemen on more than one occasion. It wasn’t enough for them to break our lead.

“All right, College Boy,” Philly said when I scored a goal right before the final whistle blew. The fans went crazy at our first win of the season. “I see why they pay you the big bucks.”

“Shit, this is going to be an easy season if he keeps playing like that,” Schneider said, grinning as we skated a victory lap.

“You hardly had to work,” Philly joked.

The Direwolves manager and team owner, a brown-haired man with green eyes who looked about my age, shook my hand, congratulating me and then the rest of the team.

“Must be nice to have the money to own your very own hockey team,” Philly said to me, nodding to the suits.

“I think I’d rather be taking pucks to the face than have to sit in a box in an itchy suit all game.” I tugged off my skates.

“At least he’s young and can enjoy all his money.”

“No one told you to buy that motorcycle and then crash it into the river,” Schneider said to McCallahan, incredulous.

After doing the required interviews—alone, with the coach, with other players, with the managers—we stood there awkwardly next to management for photos.

I was finally able to escape the locker room to where Dakota and the rest of her family waited, along with my old Icebreakers teammates and the seniors.

I grinned when they cheered. I was immediately enveloped in the crush of people.

“Are you Ryder’s new friends?” Dakota’s mom greeted my new teammates. “Come to dinner. You boys need food after a game like that. Also”—she lowered her voice—“I have several sisters who have terrible decision-making skills when they’ve been drinking. You might get a happy ending out of this.”

“What the fuck?” Philly mouthed to me as the mass of Dakota’s loud family practically carried us along out into the evening and to a nearby restaurant.

“Dakota,” I said, finally able to push my way next to her. I kissed her. Though a big family was everything I’d always wanted, a part of me did want to just take her back to our bed. Alone.

“Sorry about Dasher.” She wrinkled her nose. “I shouldn’t have brought him. But he made that sad face.”

“He hasn’t got the hang of New York apartment living,” I joked.

Dakota had tried to bribe all her neighbors in her building to not complain about Dasher.

Fortunately, many of the units were investment properties, and no one lived there. But still. Dasher was loud. And seemed to be afraid we were going to leave him and never come back.

“He’s used to coming to practice with me.”

“You’re going to have to stay home next game,” Dakota said to the dog, who was glued to my side.

“No, he’s not. See?” Violet said, showing me her phone. “All your fans loved it. People are buying New York Direwolves merch left and right. The video’s viral. All over. It’s all over the sports and mainstream news. They want you on Jimmy Fallon. I just got a call from Nike asking to feature you and Dasher in a commercial. Also there’s this pet food company that wants to do a campaign. I told them to make us a good offer.” She snapped her gum, clicking her long nails on the phone.

“Dasher can’t come to the next game. He can’t handle himself,” Dakota said.

“He’s coming. The Direwolves owner already texted me and decreed it. He also asked me out on a date. I said no. I don’t shit where I eat.”

Dakota’s parents had rented out an entire restaurant. It was still early enough in the year that we could sit outside on the roof. Which meant Dasher could stay too.

The dog tried to climb up me. I finally picked him up into my lap. He licked Dakota, who was next to me, and he wagged his tail as Philly sat across from us.

“Sup, Dakota. You had enough of this idiot yet?” He took a swig of his beer.

“So College Boy’s buying dinner!” Schneider, high off the win like we all were, clapped a handshake with Philly.

“No, you’re not, Ryder,” Dakota’s mom said, petting my still-damp hair. “It’s our treat. You boys order whatever you want. We’re going to celebrate your first big game.”

“I’m going to grab a drink from the bar,” I said to Dakota. “Do you want me to get you anything?”

Dakota kissed me. “Such a Boy Scout. I want a dirty martini.”

“Lame! What are you—fifty? Let’s do shots!” Dakota’s sister yelled, and the guys whooped.

As Dakota bickered with her sister, I slipped down to the bar.

Rick, Mike, and Pete jumped on me.

“Do you have it?” I hissed to Rick.

He patted his pocket. “Don’t worry about me. You don’t blow your speech.”

There had been a few other moments where I’d thought I was about to propose to Dakota. But here on this beautiful night, with the skyline as a backdrop? This was the night I was going to ask her to be my wife.