He nods, scrubbing his palm over his freshly trimmed beard. “I’ve come to learn that my degree was never really about getting an education.”
I purse my lips but wait for him to explain.
He sighs, like the weight of the world is held inside his chest. “It was about outrunning Alonso, proving to him I could do it, measuring myself against my siblings. I realized that if I finish out college to get my degree, it’ll probably be as hollow as buying Alonso’s company felt. It’s not what makes me happy. It’s not something I want.”
The win against his dad gave him everything except himself. The honesty in his voice is raw enough to cut the air around us into pieces.
“But you’re so close, you only have a couple months.” I look at Athena, then back to Artemis. “Are you sure this is what you want? We can make long distance work for a few more months, Arte.”
He nods. “We can. But we don’t have to. I don’t want to, Xavi. I’m not choosing not to finish because I can’t. I’m choosing not to finish because I finally understand who I’m not. I don’t need to be the academic one, the respectable one, the responsible one. I already tried that path, and it’s just not for me. I chased it all for so long because I thought it would all make me whole.”
His palm caresses my jaw, and my eyelids drift closed as I inhale his scent.
“I thought if I finished this, I’d feel like I’d arrived. But I already know what arriving feels like—and this isn’t it. I’m financially secure, I have investments, a good job, I have my friends and family… I have everything I need. And not only will I never get Alonso’s approval, but I simply don’t need it anymore.”
He looks so fucking vulnerable I want to cry.
“It’s my life, my choice, and I forgot that somewhere along the way. And just because it doesn’t matter to me doesn’t mean it’s worthless or can’t matter to you. This is my choice. Wisconsin, with you, finishing out your degree, chasing your NHL hockey dreams.” He gives me a timid smile I’m not used to seeing on my always-in-control boyfriend. “I’ll have a jersey to cheer Pollo and a jersey to cheer whatever team you join. If you’re cool with it, of course.”
“I mean.” I give him a wicked grin. “I could be down for something. Sure.” Turns out, being chosen hits like winning the playoffs because I’m walking on fucking air. “I guess we could go steady.” I wink at him.
My guy is done with hollow victories. He wants meaning, this… us…weare meaning. And he’s choosing me. What comes next? That’s ours to find out. And for once, we don’t have to earn it—we just get to live it.
Epilogue
XAVIER
(July – 6 months later)
It’s like we picked up the dining room out of Artemis’s apartment and dropped it here in our house in Wisconsin. Everywhere you look, there’s chaos. His siblings and their partners are all in town for his and Apollo’s birthday.
We ordered in for dinner. The table is stacked high with takeout boxes, silverware, and plates. Artemis is sorting everyone with drinks, and Apollo and Edith brought enough Get the Fork Out pies for us all to have pie today, tomorrow, and for Artemis and me to freeze a couple for future pie emergencies. It’s a lot of fucking pie. But I’m not mad about it.
Artemis has looked… well, at home. Comfortable…freesince he moved here from Cedar Rapids, and I’d be lying if I wasn’t worried that bringing the whole gang here would upend him somehow, leave him unsettled.
But he’s radiating happiness. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s still a stoic, ice prince when he needs to be, but here, in the comfort of our home, he’s so much more. He’s complex, deep, a man of layers, and he’s finally sharing more of himself with the world.
He squeezes my now fully recovered shoulder as he hands me a beer. We’ve spent a large part of the summer in our home gym, rehabbing and prepping for the upcoming hockey season.
Artemis isn’t playing ‘professionally’ anymore. He’s joined a local beer league, and he’s coaching at the local high school, but he’s busting my balls to make sure when I hit the ice in the fall that I’m ready for it.
His whistle hangs next to my practice sticks by the back door—a tiny, everyday domestic reminder that we’re building a life worth coming home to.
“Artemis tells us that your new hockey initiative will be ready to go when school starts.” Eloise offers me a container of fried rice.
The man himself sits next to me, picking my hand up and placing it on his thigh while he sips his own beer. “That’s right. Stick Together Foundation is almost ready to go. He’s already had a soft launch. He’s been taking some classes for the last couple of weeks because he can’t help himself.” Artemis’s smile is full of pride as he scoops some orange chicken onto his fork without letting my hand go.
Building this thing didn’t just remind me I still mattered outside of hockey, it gave me purpose, a different kind of scoreboard, one that’s not attached to my brother, or my worth, or my health and fitness.
Ares clears his throat, reading from his phone. “Founded by NCAA hockey player Xavier Martinez, Stick Together Foundation breaks down financial barriers that keep underprivileged youth off the ice. The nonprofit provides free equipment, subsidized ice time, and expert coaching to kids who can't afford hockey's notoriously high costs, ensuring thattalent and passion—not a family's bank account—determine who gets to play.”
Pride is filling every cell in my body. I took the leap and made that pipe dream, that random file with bits of information and ideas in it, a reality. I did that. I’m going to help kids play the game I love the most.
Ares meets my gaze. “Fuck. This is cool as shit. With a mission to build community through sport, Stick Together partners with local rinks and volunteers to create inclusive after-school programs where every child, regardless of economic background, can learn teamwork, discipline, and confidence while discovering their love for the game. Because hockey isn't just about winning—it's about sticking together.”
Eloise has clutched her hands to her chest. “I love this so much.” She sniffs.
Scott nods, shoving half an egg roll in his mouth. “Me too. It’s such a great cause. I hate to say it, but hockey’s a luxury sport for kids. It’s expensive as fuck, money’s such a big barrier to entry.” He rolls the other half of his appetizer between his finger and thumb. “I have no idea how my mom made it work.”
