Page 46 of Smut Lovers

Epilogue

Two Years Later

I shouldn’t be watching the hockey game. The Chicago Tsunami had made it to the playoffs, and Briggs was playing. He’d kept up with relentless texting and visiting far more often than he’d done previously.

Nova, my ultra-keen best friend, had picked up on it and hounded me until I admitted the truth about the whole thing. Our quick tryst two years ago, and how in the past six months I’d been finding my guards against this man crumbling.

Now I was a bundle of nerves for him as he played this game.

The damn man was kinder and funnier than I’d ever known.

My former school-girl crush was turning into more.

So much more than I could allow to happen.

Not just because he was Aspen’s best friend, but because he lived in Chicago and had women throwing themselves at him on the regular.

I couldn’t compete with any of that. Not his superstar career, and not the women.

“He’s going for it,” Aspen’s yell cut into my thoughts. Everyone in the room leaned forward as Briggs tore across the ice, the puck skipping skillfully at every twist of his stick. Guiding it toward the goal.

A player from the other team in a burst of speed and power streaked toward him. The pair collided in a jumble of sticks and limbs. Briggs hit the boards, then collapsed to the ice.

A gasp went through the room, and my heart stopped. I did my best not to panic. This was a hockey game. Men hit the boards all the time and got up to return to the game with a lot more piss and vinegar than before.

I could hear the ref’s whistle, the crowds yelling, and everyone else in the room with me yelling at the screen. I couldn’t speak. I could barely breathe.

Briggs still wasn’t getting up.

The End, For Now.