Heteronym

Epilogue

My skates zipped on the ice, coming to a crunching stop and spraying my husband with a fresh coat of ice chips. Puffs of condensation drifted from my lips as I laughed at him, my skates carrying me away with Beckett hot on my tail in seconds. There was a reason he was a two time Stanley Cup champion.

I felt his warm hand clamp down on my right arm, spinning the two of us around so I was facing the center ice, wrapped in Beck's hot arms. His skin burned against mine in comparison to the cold air, and I welcomed the heat of his body. Both of us were laughing as he pulled me down gently with him, my butt hitting the cold ice with Beck's gentle touch. "You're a bastard!" I laughed, elbowing him in the ribs as we sat on the ice rink in TD Garden.

That's right: the Boston Bruins. My inner New Yorker wanted to commit suicide when I got traded. Two years on the New York Rangers was a dream, winning two Stanley Cups. Then I got traded two hundred miles away without my husband of two months and almost had a breakdown.

Beckett and I ended up getting married the following June like we planned. I would never forget the look on Beck's face when he saw me in a flowing mermaid dress with my dirty blonde, honey toned hair styled under a grand veil as my older brother and my father both walked me down the isle. My eyes were glassy the entire time and Beck definitely almost cried when he saw me, both of us smiling so much our cheeks were throbbing by the end of the ceremony. Beck looked amazingly handsome and sexy in one of the many designer suits I've seen him in over the years. Every time it was like seeing Beck for the first time all over again.

Taylor was my 'maid of honor', if you will, and Axel was Beck's best man. Zeke was my 'bridesmaid' and Ken was Beck's groomsman. The moment when I put the platinum band on Beck's ring finger was etched into my brain like I was staring at a picture of it. The vows he wrote were memorized in my head, the words coming to me much easier two years later than the ones I wrote, which I could barely remember.

Our three week honeymoon in Fiji was the definition of paradise. I'll admit, being rich had its perks. We were only back in New York for five weeks when I found out I had three days to get my sorry ass to Boston. The ten million dollar incentive didn't help. I broke down when I found out, especially when Beck came home with his contract to stay with the Rangers for eleven point four million. I had always said I would quit hockey for Beck but he was the one who 'didn't want to put me in a position to resent him', especially only two years into our careers. I wouldn't resent him, but what else was I supposed to do? I was between degrees and an eight figure salary cut is a huge difference. I wasn't cut out to be a house wife.

So I went to Boston. Everyone always says the first year of marriage is the hardest and they were fucking right. Beck often surprised me, taking the quick one hour flight on days where neither of us had games or mandatory practice. I face timed him all the time, but between my morning video conferences with Zeke to work on our degrees, sometimes it felt like I saw him more than my own husband. Maybe it was childish not to go to the optional practices, but most times I was truly busy. Without my husband there I was left to call him instead of work on my thesis. I had a hunch my minimal appearances at optional practices where part of the reason Beck got traded to Boston the following season, taking a four thousand dollar pay cut to get a no trade clause like me, good for another two years.

So here we are, finally together. Just Beck, myself, and the Australian Shepherd puppy named Cal, which Beck had gotten me mid season last year on one of our surprise visits. I can officially confirm that there is no better feeling than waking up in the morning to your husband's woodsy scent and feeling his arms around your waist. Now, I had this every day instead of once a month and it was bliss.

"I'm the bastard?" Beck questioned, raising an eyebrow, leaning against the white scuffed boards of the empty arena. Staying late to practice and or fool around is a habit that hasn't died in the five years we've known each other. "You're the one who sprayed me in ice."