Page 11 of Hockey Halloween

Epilogue (Ford)

A year later

Once upon a time, I was standing in a crowded Manhattan club, bored out of my mind, wearing a Rick O’Connell costume and seriously considering faking an injury to escape.

Now I’m in a newly renovated house in suburban Minneapolis with the same blue bandana tied around my neck.

The difference? Everything. There’s an extraordinary woman humming softly by the mirror across the room, applying a swipe of deep red lipstick with the kind of precision that should honestly be illegal. I can’t stop staring at her.

Willa. My partner. My favorite person. The smartest and sexiest historian to ever walk the earth.

She moved back to Minnesota a few months after we met.

Said something about needing a change and wanting to see where this could go.

Thank God she meant it. Now she works remotely for the same museum in New York, consulting on exhibitions and archival research from her home office down the hall.

She flies out there every couple of months for big projects or events.

But most days, she’s here with me when I’m not traveling with the team.

“You ready yet, my Muse? ”

She turns slowly, and my breath catches for the hundredth time today. A beige pencil skirt hugs her generous hips, white blouse tucked in, the sleeves casually rolled to the elbows like she just returned from an archaeological dig.

Her blonde hair is pinned up in that effortless twist she somehow pulls off. There are round wire-rimmed glasses perched on her nose that make me want to kiss the hell out of her and also let her quiz me on any historical period she chooses.

She gives me this little proud smirk, knowing exactly what she’s doing to my self-restraint.

“Do I pass?” she asks, striking a mock-innocent pose.

“Pass?” I’m across the room in three strides, hands on her waist, pulling her flush against me. “You just aced every test.”

She chuckles, her arms sliding up around my neck. “You’re such a nerd.”

“You’re the one who owns three annotated copies of The Mummy screenplay.”

“Because I value both films and history.”

I lean in and kiss her, my lips lingering on hers, reminding myself this is my life. That I get to do this. That she’s mine.

“God, I love you,” I murmur.

Her eyes soften, the way they always do when those words leave my lips. “I love you too.”

We hold each other, swaying gently in our little orbit. The sounds of the Halloween party next door filter through the open window. We’re supposed to be there soon. Because lucky me, one of my teammates lives in the house with his family.

Right now, none of that matters. Right now, it’s just her and me like that one fateful night.

I step back enough to take her in, to really look at her. “One year ago, I thought I’d never see you again when you decided to give that asshole Greg a chance.”

“Well,” she says, looping her finger around my bandana, “good thing us history nerds crave a good story and ours wasn’t finished.”

“True, but also, fate just really loves Rick O’Connell.”

She throws her head back, her laugh bright and completely unguarded. I swear I’ll never get tired of that sound. Not in a year or fifty. Not in eternity.

Outside, the neighborhood glows in amber light, jack-o’-lanterns flickering in a gentle wind, and costumed kids shriek down sidewalks.

But here inside, the warmth between us is something deeper than any costume or coincidence.

It’s history, written in the tiny moments.

The late-night calls when I’m on the road, the quiet mornings together in our home, the books left open on the coffee table when we’re too busy kissing while “reading” together, and the way she always steals the covers in bed.

We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be. Me as Rick, her as Evie. Still blown away that we found each other in a city full of strangers. After all, she was waiting for her blind date. Then fate interfered.