Page 192 of Game Misconduct
That crooked, broken smile pulls at his mouth. “Good.”
We just stand there.
The crowd still roars. The lights still burn. But all I see is him.
His hand is still wrapped around the comic, the edge bent now from his grip. I trace it with my fingers.
“You really drew this?”
“On the road. After that night in the suite.”
I swallow, heat thick in my throat. “I look like a badass.”
“Youarea badass.”
He exhales a soft laugh, vulnerable in a way that cracks something in me wide open.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me yet,” he says, voice low so only I can hear it. “But I’ll spend the rest of my life proving I was worth the risk.”
I don’t answer right away.
Because the truth is, I already have forgiven him.
He lifts our joined hands, kisses the back of mine in front of the whole damn arena, and for the first time in forever, I don’t feel like I’m carrying this empire alone.
Because he’s not just standing beside me.
He’swithme.
We walk off the ice together—step for step—leaving the past where it belongs.
Behind us.
EPILOGUE
Maddox
Six Weeks Later – The Pit
It’s quiet tonight.
No cameras. No crowds. Just the hum of the boards and the way her laugh echoes off the ice like it belongs here.
Sloane carves a perfect curve at center, scarf fluttering behind her, cheeks pink from the cold.
She’s not rusty—she’s lethal. Powerful. Beautiful. The kind of grace you don’t lose, even after years behind a desk.
“If this is how you looked on Olympic ice, no wonder the world lost its mind.”
She glances over her shoulder, eyes wicked.
“Careful, Lasker. You sound impressed.”
“I’m trying not to look worshipful,” I shoot back. “It’s not going well.”
She pivots with a flick of her blade—smooth and effortless—spraying a mist of ice in my direction. “Watch out, goalie,” she says, voice teasing. “This isn’tmy first rink.”
She shoots me a look, that deadly combination of boardroom steel and bedroom heat, and my blood sparks the way it always does with her.
