Page 52

OVERTIME

EPILOGUE

The ribbon was cut, the pictures were taken, and the alumni charity game was underway on the new and improved West side rink inside the Richard Charles Kappers Memorial Arena, previously known as Centre Ice.

A gaggle of teens were in line at the new concession stand, now named Teresa’s, and tween boys were stick-handling balls in front of Hans’ Pro Shop.

“It’s perfect.” Teresa grasped my hand, tears springing to her eyes. “Thank you so much, Piper.”

Strong tattooed arms wrapped around my waist, and I leaned back against his strong chest. “Oh no, did you make my Ma cry again, P?”

“Oh, shut up.” I turned in his arms and wrapped my hands around his neck. He kissed me deeply and grabbed my butt, making me gasp and break the kiss.

“There are kids here! And press!” I whispered tersely, grabbing his hand and placing it back in an appropriate position.

Kappy laughed. “Well, if I remember correctly, there’s a utility closet back there if we want some privacy.” He wagged his eyebrows.

“Oh my God.” Blushing furiously, I smacked his chest. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.” He smiled as he tucked my hair behind my ears.

“Really good.” He nodded. He was on a new health regimen—one that I supervised like a drill sergeant—and I now went to all of his appointments with him because he was known as a flight risk when he was nervous.

“I love that my name is finally up on a building.” He laughed.

“Your father’s name,” I corrected him, rolling my eyes.

He grinned proudly. “Yeah, my father’s name.” His chest expanded as he took in the new rink. “And look.” He pointed to our left, to the restored arcade where teens were playing Dance Dance Revolution.

I sniffled loudly.

“Babe, are you crying?” he asked gently.

I nodded.

“My little softie.” His body rumbled with a chuckle as he pulled me closer and dropped a kiss on my head. His hand dropped down to squeeze mine three times.

Leaning my chin on his chest, I stared up at him. “Why do you do that?”

“Huh? Do what?”

“The hand thing. You always squeeze my hand three times.”

He tightened his hold. “I.” He tightened his grip again. “Love.” He squeezed my hand for a third and final time while grinning down at me. “You.”

My mouth gaped open as my mind raced through the past. “But you did that when we were young.”

He nodded as his thumb gently traced my hairline. “Of course. What did you think it meant?”

His attention was snagged by something on the ice, but I stood there leaning against him, still stuck on this new revelation. While I was out there in the world spending years shifting and changing and desperately trying to earn those words…I already had them.

“Ready to head home?” he whispered down to me.

Taking his hand in mine, I squeezed it three times, making his dimples flash. “Yeah, let’s go home, Richard.”

Back to our penthouse in Chicago, where the picture of us on the podium was sitting proudly on our mantel.

THE END

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