Page 192 of Gloves Off

Ward leans forward. “I’ve got an assistant coach position with your name on it, if you’re interested.”

Or that. Deep in my chest, I get the samelocking-into-placefeeling I get when I look at Georgia. Blindsided, but not in a bad way.

The second he says it, I can picture coaching. Of course coaching is my future. Images roll through my head: agonizing over Walker, watching Georgia at soccer, learning from her, feeling on top of the world when the rookie and I figured things out and he rose to his potential.

How the fuck didn’t I see this all along?

Off whatever he sees in my expression, Ward grins again. “Don’t look so surprised, Volkov.”

“You knew.”

“I had my suspicions. No matter where you end up, whether it’s with the Storm or another team, I think you might love it. Maybeeven more than playing. I know I do.” His eyebrows go up. “What do you say?”

“Yes.” Easy answer.

“That’s what I hoped you would say.” He nods. “I like it when things go my way. And I won’t hold you to this. I’ll give you a few weeks to heal up before I come at you with a contract.”

“I’ll sign it tomorrow.”

“Sign what?” Georgia asks from the doorway.

“Volkov’s going to think about coming on board as the assistant coach to the Storm,” Ward tells her, and she lights up, turning to me with a proud, pleased, surprised smile.

“What do you think?” I ask her.

“You’d make an incredible coach.” She sits beside me, handing me a water before she turns to Ward, all business. “Tate, he needs to rest. Get out.”

“You got it.” Ward stands, giving me a firm nod, but suppressing a smile. “Rest up, take all the time you need, and we’ll talk when you’re ready.” He glances between the two of us, me with my arm around her waist, her applying ice to my bad shoulder. “Glad everything worked out with you two.”

He leaves, and Georgia stares after him with a small frown. “Does he know?”

“About us?”

She nods. I think back to her walking past his office, and Ward sayingtoo bad you aren’t married to a Canadian.

“The whole thing was his idea.”

EPILOGUE

ALEXEI

On a sunny day in September,under the big oak tree outside Vancouver City Hall, Georgia and I get married.

Again.

My wife is breathtaking, with her hair down and wavy, freckles on her nose and cheekbones from the summer sun. She wears the same dress as when we got married last year, when we hated each other.

A vow renewal, we told everyone.

“Being married to you is a dream I never want to wake up from,” I tell my wife in front of all our friends and family.

Nearby, someone sniffles. Probably one of our moms. Our parents have become tight-knit friends. They even took a group holiday to Italy this summer, staying at my and Georgia’s vacation home.

Holding my hands, my new ring sparkling on her finger above the ugly one she refuses to take off, Georgia smiles. “When you’re not around, I miss you.”

Affection expands through my chest, warm and consuming. “I love you, and I always will.”

She beams at me, recognizing the reversed vows from our first wedding. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

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