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Somebody behind us started yelling.

It sounded suspiciously like Dante.

Another voice joined him, and I had a horrible feeling it might have been Taz.

I didn’t care.

My father had spent years convincing me that being seen was dangerous, because if enough people looked closely enough, eventually they would discover something that would make them hate me.

Now the entire world could look.

They could see Max’s hands on me.

They could see mine around his neck.

They could see exactly who I loved and exactly who loved me.

When Max finally lifted his head, he stayed close enough that his forehead rested against mine.

“Mon cœur,” he murmured.

I smiled. “Captain.”

His laugh disappeared beneath another roar from the crowd as the rest of the team closed around us again.

Over his shoulder, the scoreboard still glowed above the ice.

COLORADO 4 VEGAS 3

For eight years, I’d been afraid that one piece of video would show the world who I was.

Tonight, there would be thousands of them.

For once, I hoped everybody watched.

Epilogue

Recovery - The period after a game when players rest, receive treatment, and work on helping their bodies recover before returning to full training or competition.

Ash

I woke because someone was kissing my shoulder, although it took me several sleepy seconds to work out what was happening because Max apparently had no intention of doing anything as straightforward as actually waking me. His mouth moved slowly over my skin, first across my shoulder and then higher toward my neck, while the arm wrapped around my waist tightened enough to pull my back more firmly against his chest.

“Are you trying to wake me up?” I mumbled into the pillow.

“No.”

“Then you’re doing a terrible job of not doing it.”

“I am kissing my mate. You being awake is irrelevant.”

I smiled without opening my eyes because there were considerably worse ways to start the morning, especially when the man doing the kissing was warm against my back and seemed perfectly content to stay there indefinitely. I shifted closer, which turned out to be a mistake when nearly every muscle in my body immediately reminded me that I’d played almost eighty minutes of hockey yesterday.

“Fuck.”

Max stopped kissing me so abruptly that I knew what was coming before he said my name.

“Ash?”