Spiral (Off the Ice Book 2)
Spiral: EPILOGUE

Three years later

I’VE TRIED TO put on my gold pearl drop earrings six times. Today is one of those days that tests you until your only option is to cry in a secluded corner. First my hair didn’t cooperate, then my dress had shrunk in the wash—courtesy of Elias teaching Sean how to do laundry before he has to leave for college—and now I’ve poked my earlobe enough times that it’s throbbing.

“Elias,” I call from our en suite, hoping he’s still only down the hall and not lost in the sugar-free cake he’s icing for tonight’s celebration. The kitchen is his sanctuary, and after my many failed attempts of trying to learn how to cook, I’ve finally let go of the possibility. Everyone was much too elated by that decision. Now, I only step into the kitchen when I’m putting my flowers into a vase. This week, Elias bought me pink dahlias.

These days, my time at home is spent practicing in the studio of our apartment building. We’re still in the same building as Aiden, only a few doors down. Sean made it a point to visit us every weekend, so as soon as Elias found an available three-bedroom, he bought it.

With a frustrated sigh, I attempt for a seventh time to wear the earring. My arms are tired, and my fingers feel raw from being poked by the earring. I need a massage.

Elias and I have updated our self-care night to include massages. That means he gives me a massage, and I fall asleep before he can get one. He never complains and I think it’s because I’ve finally curbed my insomnia.

After my first year with the company, it was worse than ever. But pretty soon, I found a hack to sleep even in stuffy hotel rooms. The secret is to sleep with Elias on a video call. My phone’s battery life deteriorated pretty quickly, but my performances were much stronger. Strong enough that I just completed my third and last year with Nova Ballet Theatre. After consistently performing principal roles in Romeo and Juliet, The Nutcracker, and of course Swan Lake, the long days, the injuries, and the emotional toll of the ballet that fired me up only make me want to slow down now. I want to be still for a little while.

I haven’t told Elias yet, but I bought the ballet studio on Brunswick.

Clutching the small earrings in my palm, I resist the urge to toss them aside in frustration. It’s then that strong arms envelop me from behind, pulling me close. Elias presses gentle kisses along my neck, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine as he finds that sweet spot where my neck meets my shoulder.

“Help me,” I whine.

He takes the earring, the ones he gifted me when I completed my last Swan Lake performance, and it takes him less than a second to put them in each ear.

I let my head fall against his shoulders when I exhale.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, slipping his arms around me.

“No one talks about how hard it is to watch your siblings grow up,” I confess quietly.

“I know,” he whispers into my hair. “But you raised a great man.”

“I did, didn’t I?” I gaze up at him. “But that teenage phase was brutal.”

“Sixteen-year-old Sean was possessed by the devil.” Elias shudders. “But all that hard work paid off. Now, he’s following in his brother-in-law’s footsteps and heading to Dalton.”

The day Sean rejected his offer to Yale because he was accepted on an athletic scholarship to Dalton, all of our friends were overjoyed. Safe to say, Yale is still the enemy.

“I don’t know if I like the influence the guys have on him.”

He laughs. “I turned out fine, didn’t I?”

I make a noncommittal sound, and he squeezes my waist a little tighter.

“What was that?” His lips draw closer, just inches away from my glossy ones. “I’m pretty sure you were screaming about how godlike I am just last night.”

I did. Because no matter how many times he touches me, he lights up every nerve of my body like it’s the first time. Only someone with omnipotence can pull that off.

“I think I need a reminder.”

He raises his brows, and happily leans in. The pressure of his kiss feels like home.

“It’ll take two hours with traffic. Can you guys kiss later?” admonishes Nina when she pushes open the bathroom door.

Nina Beaumont-Westbrook, our uptight tween, stands at the threshold of the bathroom, already dressed. Her hair is done up in a neat bun with tiny gems all over. She’s wearing the dress Elias bought her, the flats that I did, and the ballerina necklace Sean brought back from one of his hockey games in Montreal.

Three years ago, I met Nina, the eight-year-old girl in my ballet class. It turns out my inkling that she came from a broken home had been correct. After one particularly hard night just two years ago, Nina’s parents dropped her off at my studio, and they never came back.

It broke my heart.

The moment I locked up after a solo session, there she was, in pink pajamas, quietly asking to sleep in the studio. When Elias arrived to pick me up and saw the two of us—her with her lost hazel eyes, and me with my teary ones—he didn’t need to ask any questions. Without hesitation, we simply went home, called our lawyer, and took the necessary steps to ensure Nina would always have a home. Once she was cleared to travel with me, we spent most of the year checking out popular ballet when I had the odd performance. She loved meeting everyone, and the light I saw in her eyes was a reflection of my own. Sometimes Elias wonders how we’re not blood related. For months, we fostered her, granting her the freedom to decide where she wanted to stay. The day she chose us to be her parents was the best day of my life; our wedding day is a close second.

“Come on, people, we have a graduation to attend,” she says.

Elias and I laugh and salute our punctual eleven-year-old.

We rush out after her, piling into the Bronco and straight to York Prep. It’s June, so the green leaves dance in the distance, and the sun beams down on us. My thin pink dress blows in the wind as we walk over the gravel and to the back of the school.

Banners with the school’s black and crimson colors flutter in the gentle breeze. The scent of freshly cut grass mingles with the fragrance from the flower beds lining the pathways. Groups of family members chat excitedly, clutching bouquets and gifts for the graduates.

When we find our seats, Uncle Marcus and Amy Laurent—Smith-Beaumont now—come to greet us as the ceremony is already starting. All the seats in our row are reserved, and we get disapproving looks from the parents who try to snatch a seat. Elias sits easily, blocking off half the seats, and Nina glares at anyone who tries to slip into one.

Our friends finally arrive, noisily walking down the gravel path toward us.

“Why do they have outdoor graduations when the sun is trying to kill us?” Dylan says as he shuffles past us to find his seat.

“Yeah, I thought Canada was supposed to be cold,” adds Kian.

Summer snorts. “Sorry to break it to you, but our igloos melt in June.”

Nina waves excitedly when she spots her uncles, and plants herself in the seat right between them. They shower her with compliments, and she blushes, brushing a curly strand that falls loose from her bun. Like mother, like daughter, I guess.

When the names are called, we’re all ready to cheer for Sean. Elias slips his fingers through mine, his thumb brushing over the diamond band on my finger before he intertwines our hands. I haven’t taken off this wedding ring since we got married on a random Wednesday in April, two months ago, at Lake Ontario.

“Sean Beaumont,” the principal announces. Our group explodes with cheers and applause, shouting, and Kian jingles a tambourine and Dylan blares an air horn as Sean walks across the stage. His gown is black and the sash is crimson. He does some silly fake-out to his principal before shaking his hand.

“Sean will attend the prestigious Dalton University on an ice hockey scholarship. He thanks his amazing friends and family for supporting him throughout the years. But most importantly, he dedicates this achievement to the one person in his life who has always been a constant: his sister, Sage.”

Like Elias knows the tears are going to fall, he hands me a handkerchief and pulls me close. I burrow into the space he creates for me, the one I’ve occupied for the past three years. Nina comes to us, and I kiss the top of her vanilla-scented hair. Elias scoots over to let her sit with him, and we watch the rest of the commencement, cheering again when Sean’s best friend, Josh Sutherland, dances across the stage. Soon, the grads toss their hats in the sky. It’s a flurry of black and crimson tassels.

Sean shouts my name and runs right to us.

Aiden and Summer engulf him in a hug first and hand him a small blue box. “Open it!” Summer urges.

Sean glances at my smiling face before pulling off the cover on the gift box.

“Keys?” He turns the silver keys in his hand.

“They’re the keys to the off-campus house. We want you to stay there when you head to Dalton.”

When Aiden told me he wanted to pass down the keys to Sean, instead of selling the house his grandparents bought him when he started at Dalton, I didn’t know what to say. Instinct made me want to refuse because we’ve never had a place to call home, but knowing Sean can have that without relying on another institution for housing made my heart crack in two before it bound itself back together.

Sean blinks rapidly in an attempt to stop his flow of tears. Aiden laughs and pulls him in for a hug that we all join in on. An overwhelming feeling of belonging pokes at my heart. Because this is how I like it.

Just us, and our little family.