Page 20

Epilogue

NOAH

One year later

“Where do you keep the paper plates?”

I nudged Margo aside with my hip, and my sister nudged back. Our playful rivalry turned into a hip-checking battle, which she knew I would win, yet the woman refused to back down. From anything. She was strong—case in point, she’d fought for trans rights since her teenage years and never backed down from the bigots who sought to erase her existence. I loved that she was here on vacation, and we fell seamlessly back into our familiar teasing routine in an instant.

I’d missed her since she’d moved to Japan–still healing from her top surgery–to take a job at an anime studio where she’d met Botan. She was now stupidly happy, totally in love, and trying to pull some illegal moves by looping her arm around my neck.

“Two minutes for trying to slap a totally bogus front headlock takedown,” I shouted, slipped from her grip, and tossed a rye bun from the tray of bread, meats, and cheeses at her head.

She swatted it aside, laughing maniacally. “You’re lucky I’m in such a good mood or else you’d be kissing that new tile you and King Boo just had installed.”

King Boo. Only Margo would pin Brody Vance with the name of a character from Mario Kart.

“Yeah, yeah, big talk from a cartoonist,” I teased. A Hawaiian roll came rocketing at me. I didn’t duck in time. Margo hooted at the direct hit between the eyes. At her high-pitched shout, our two beagles, Tracy and Link, started braying in the backyard. We both snorted in amusement. Brody peeked through the kitchen window, his dark eyes bright and clear. The only lingering signs of his fight with the aneurysm and the craniotomy were a bit of blurry vision on occasion and a scar on his scalp where no hair would grow. He grew his hair longer and had it styled to cover the area. “Hey, baby!”

“The show is about to start. Do you two need help carrying out the food, or refereeing the wrestling match?” He smiled through the screen as the dogs ran in circles barking. The rescue twins loved to bark. It was a good thing our new house was situated on some big acreage in a nice neighborhood in Mechanicsburg. We loved our new place. A brand-new Devonshire Artisan house sitting on four acres. Four bedrooms, five baths, and a game room. A pool was slated for installation in two months. We’d miss peak swimming season, as it was already late July, but we’d enjoy the hell out of the in-ground pool next summer.

The dogs adored the grounds, but we had to install an invisible fence, as beagles, we quickly learned, put their noses to the ground and off they went no matter how loudly you called them back. And someday, our kids will love it. Our house, not the invisible fence. The schools here were good, the neighbors down the road were very accepting of us, and my drive to the rink for games was about ten miles.

“Coming, tell Pops and Dad to chill. Tell Botan to get them some fresh beers from the cooler,” Margo told Brody. He nodded, then disappeared.

“You’re pretty bossy with my boyfriend,” I commented as we pulled dishes of deviled eggs, salads, and a dish of mouthwatering yaki onigiri that Botan had made for his dish to pass. I’d eaten just a few of the fried rice balls because diabetic, but they were to die for.

“Like you haven’t been telling Botan what to do for the past two weeks,” she countered with a flip of her long, dark hair.

Okay, yeah, that was legit. Botan, Brody, and I had hit it off well, and he’d been helping us with some gardening work. Gardening work meaning playing golf while my sister spent time with our dads. She and my eldest sister didn’t get to see them much, so she was spending every moment she could with them before flying back to Japan next week.

“I wish Eva could have made it for the concert,” Margo said wistfully as we hoisted platters of food from the counters.

“Yeah, me too, but she’s far too pregnant to fly,” I replied while heading into the backyard through the screen door in the laundry room. The dogs bounded over, keen noses picking up the aroma of food before we were even out the door properly.

“Pops and Dad are going to be the best grandpas ever. They’re driving to Seattle for the birth because of the enormous amount of baby shit they have to deliver,” she called over her shoulder.

Yeah, I’d watched the mountain grow over the past nine months. The drive sounded romantic to me. Maybe Brody and I could buy a motorhome and spend my summers off, with the dogs of course, seeing America. I’d much sooner see him behind the wheel of a Winnebago, than that damned Ferrari he sped around Harrisburg in, and the nearby motor speedway in York Haven hitting the track at stupid speeds. Guess we both liked dangerous sports.

“Hey, hey, are we late?” Logan called as he and his little family rushed through the side gate, toting more dishes. “Avery lost her signed Railers cap, so we spent half an hour searching for it. Found it under the fridge.”

“I think ghosts put it there,” Avery shouted–as she tended to do outside because that was where outdoor voices belonged–while charging to her Uncle Brody for hugs. Which he always gave along with loud smooches that made her giggle.

“If you have ghosts, I know a special way to make them go bye-bye,” Pops spoke up from his lawn chair, placed strategically in front of the outdoor projector screen. “What you do is slice potato in half, spit into the air four times–one spit for each direction on compass–and then, you bury potato in garden.”

Dad looked at him with skepticism, but said nothing and, instead, smiled at the man he adored, in that tender way he had.

“My grandfather throws roasted soybeans at the front door while shouting for the demons to be gone, and then, inviting fortune in,” Botan added as we took our seats.

“See, is good to use foods for bad spirit leavings no matter what country.” Pops nodded. We hurried to get plates heaped, then sat down in a semicircle.

“Oh, it’s starting! Oh, my great gods. I love Jemima Wren so much!” Margo fangirled as the worldwide streaming event kicked off. We all knew she loved Jem. It was apparent from the Jem Wren shirt, shorts, socks, sandals, and barrettes she wore.

I wiggled in beside Brody on a swing made for two. He smiled at me, then stole a kiss. I was so happy it almost seemed like a dream. My rookie year had been amazing. We’d made it to the second round of the playoffs, losing to Washington in a seven-game series. My line had been productive both defensively and offensively. The fourth line was often looked down on, but if it could contribute, then the fans and press embraced it. I was training nearly every day, taking care of myself, and working a strict regimen for my diabetes. Life was perfect.

The Railers might make it to the finals next year. We were missing a couple of elements on the top lines, but I was confident that management would do some shopping over the summer to fill those gaps.

“You look so happy,” Brody whispered in my ear as he used a finger to push a few curls out of the way.

“I am. I love having our families here.”

“Yeah, so do I.” He kissed my ear, which made me shiver.

“AHH!! It’s Jem and Traci!! Oh, look at them! Are they the most beautiful couple you ever saw?!” Margo was on her feet as Jem and her girlfriend hit the stage with the rest of her band and dancers in Sydney, Australia. Jem and Traci, one of her backup dancers, had announced their relationship about two months ago. The world had gone crazy for about two weeks, stirring up some renewed interest in Brody that faded once the gossip-mongers couldn’t get him to sass off about his ex. He was thrilled for Jem. He had a good homelife filled with love, laughter, and family, so why would he badmouth her? Add in lots of speedway-related charity work as well. I refused to think about that damn Ferrari parked in our garage.

I snuggled in close, balancing my plate on my thighs, and let the warm summer day wash over me.

I could think of no better place to be than at Brody’s side, living our best lives.

Together.

THE END