Page 117 of Rule 3: Never Fake Marry the Coach's Son

“I-I love you too.”

I look around at the passengers waiting at the gate. “Guess I have to break the bad news to the flight attendant that my bag needs to be unbranded.”

“Bad boy,” Oskar says, taking my hand in his.

“You’re corrupting me. I was a sweet, innocent passenger.”

He giggles, and it’s the sweetest noise in the world.

We’re going to live a life together, wherever in the world that might be. The important thing is that we’re together.

I squeeze his hand, my heart light with happiness.

EPILOGUE

Dmitri

“Guys!” My voice barrels through the locker room, and twenty athletes turn to me.

My gaze bounces around the wood-paneled locker room, and I grin.

“We’re going to win this.”

My voice is authoritative and steady as I give my special speech. Tension eases from some of their shoulders.

The guys like it when I’m confident, and luckily, I’m very confident.

I’m Dmitri.

I don’t tell the guys that I once irritated my coach so much that he punched me in the face. Besides, that’s in the past. Now I video call with Oskar’s family every Sunday before their family dinner and after our family dinner.

I’m working at a university. Maybe I only graduated high school, but now I go to university every day. Next semester, if I’m still here, I’ll be able to take classes too. Maybe I’ll do business or sports management or history.

The future is amazing.

Since Oskar and I have been living together, Vince says he thinks he’ll be able to get me back into the US. After all that drama, he never suggested we go somewhere together.

I can always play for the AHL somewhere, if no NHL team wants me. The Blizzards roster looks full, but you never know, and I do have a special in with the coach.

But honestly, I’m happy where I am. I like that my nights are now spent learning Swedish, and it’s cute that Oskar is now the only one of us who speaks the language. I think it makes him more assertive, but that could be because he spends so much time with me. After Swedish lessons, I worship his body every night. After all, that man is a god. My cute, adorable Viking god, who changed my life so much for the better.

If he wants to return to the US, we will. But if not, I’ll happily spend decades by his side here in Sweden.

I say a few more words of encouragement to the team, who all look at me with hero worship I probably don’t deserve. But I had a great career in the US. I think some of them have a shot at playing for the NHL one day. They will after I’m through with them.

The team wobbles on skates and heads for the tunnel, and I take out my phone and text Oskar.

I grin at the slew of romantic emojis and GIFs we exchange, then I take my seat right off the ice.

I wave at Oskar in the crowd, then blow him a kiss. His face still pinkens, he sometimes still can’t believe we’re together, but I’m absolutely the lucky one.

The game begins. I lean forward, grinning.

Life is marvelous.