In Every Universe | Quinn Hughes

Epilogue | Quinn

Seven Years Later

I'M SO FOCUSED I'M ALMOST ANGRY. WE CAN'T AFFORD TO BE losing our momentum this late in the season. Not when we'd won 32 of 47 games played with our team sitting first in the league overall. I wanted to make playoffs, and this year, with my title of Captain, I was going to finally get us there.

Like I said, I have no time to lose my momentum, no time to not be focused. And I am, focused, in the zone, looking only ahead at the ice, my gaze not wavering once. But then I'm stepping on the ice, about to head into the third period against the Blackhawks when I see her.

We're up by 2 with eighteen minutes left of the game, and I'll be fucking damned if we let them snake one in on us now. There's no way we're having a repeat of Toronto. Not in our home arena. Not with the playoffs only 33 games away.

I don't let my eyes wander to her, even though they want to so badly it's almost painful. How is it that she can look the exact same as the day she left? Her hair was the name, eyes the same, she hadn't aged one bit.

The puck drops and I'm off, a new fire under me as I blitz through the other players, wanting us another goal. I can feel my confidence slipping though, with every minute that passes.

Why was she here? Where had she been the past seven years? Why did she leave? I had so many unanswered questioned drumming around in my head that it was giving me a headache, and I felt dizzy.

We win with a shutout from Demko, and I'm so happy I could kiss him. He's a fucking fantastic goalie. Our whole team is on another level this season, and I couldn't be more proud.

But, there's no time to think about that now. All I can think about is her and why the hell she's here?

The thought rattles around in my brain the entire time I'm getting dressed back into my suit, and part of me wants to just pull my phone out and call her, but I doubt she still had the same number, and besides, she'd blocked me seven years ago.

I sit on the edge of the benches, my head in my hands as I rack my brain for reasons why she would possibly be at this game. Did she have a boyfriend? A husband? Kids? What did she do for work? Why didn't she come back to me?

It's too much, and suddenly I'm thinking about the time we hid in the locker room showers so I wouldn't lose my place on the team.

I hadn't thought about her in years.

"You good, Huggy?" Petey asks, clapping a hand over my shoulder as each player starts to one by one filter out of the locker room.

I tell him that I am, complete lie, big lie. But, he takes my words at face value and leaves me too, until I'm left alone with nothing but my thoughts and my head still in my hands.

I stand abruptly, grabbing my belongings, and storming out of the locker room, pissed beyond words. Who the fuck does she think she is? Coming here, to my rink? My house. After all the shit she pulled, after she left.

I realise that I had a lot of unresolved feelings, and a lot of pent up anger I'd never dealt with.

I push the locker room doors open, and then I stop in my tracks, because standing there on the opposite side of the hall to me is Lily Evan's in a Canucks Promotional Team uniform jacket and a pair of work pants that fit her thighs a little too well.

She blinks up at me innocently, but I know better, she's not innocent.

My hands ball into fists as I count to ten. "You better have a damn good reason for being at my rink, darling."

Fuck, the nickname just came out.

I watch her cheeks flush wildly, and I hadn't realised how much I'd missed that since college. I want her in my bed so I can fuck her like I hate her, but I don't hate her, I miss owning her.

"Quinn," she gasps, genuinely like she hadn't expected to see me here.

I narrow my eyes at her. "Don't give me that shit, sweetheart. You knew I played for Vancouver."

Chewing on her bottom lip, she nods. "I hadn't expected to see you on my first day."

I click my tongue. "How long were you planning on avoiding me?"

"As long as I got away with it," she admits shyly. "It's hard to be near you when I—"

I glance up at her, my eyes flash with anticipation. I remind myself that I'm angry at her. "When you what, Lily?"

She turns on her heels immediately, planning on making a run for it, which was to be expected, she always was good at running from things that scared her or made her anxious. But I'm sick of the running, and I want an explanation, so I do the first thing that comes to mind and I wrap my hand around her frail wrist, pulling her back to me.

She slams into me chest, breath lost to her as she gasps loudly, her palms flat on my shoulders. "Quinn," she whispers.

I don't know where to go from here. Do I yell at her? Demand she explain herself? Ask her what the hell she was thinking getting a job here? I don't know where the hell to start. But the post game adrenaline was wearing off, and the longer she stands pressed against me, so is the anger, replaced by a stupidly thick lust that hangs between us.

A lust that's always been there.

And I can't help it, I brush my nose to hers, hearing her breath hitch. "Why didn't you come back to me, Lily?"

She fists a handful of my suit jacket, pulling me closer. "I didn't know how to face you," she admits, her voice a whimper. "I was scared that you hated me."

I groan lowly, "I do hate you."

Then my lips as smashing down on hers, my arms wrapping securely around her waist, pulling her so close that the pressure almost aches. She gasps, the sound getting lost between us, then my tongue is down her throat, exploring every inch of her, and I realise my heart is thundering and so is hers and maybe I never stopped loving her.

"No you don't," she whines, arms wrapping around my neck as I deepen our embrace.

"No," I rasp, lifting her up with one arm, the other cupping the back of her neck forcefully. "I don't."

I kick the locker room door open with my foot, slamming her against the closest wall the second we're behind a closed door. She arches her back into me, her body reacting like it's second nature, like it belongs to me.

Like she belongs to me.

"Fuck," I growl, teeth grazing over the skin of her neck, my nose brushing her jaw as she tips her head back, crying out my name.

My full fucking name. Fuck, I'm going to explode inside this girl the second I'm balls deep in her.

"I missed you, darling," I groan, listening to her once again gasp for me, like every memory with me was rushing back in. "So fucking much."

She moans into my mouth, hips rolling against mine and sending me right over the edge. "I never got to tell you," she whines.

"Tell me what, sweet girl?"

"That I love you," she breathes, crying out as I palm her through her pants. She blinks up at me slowly. "I never stopped loving you, Quinn."

"You love me?" My lips pull slightly to the left, she nods apprehensively. "Who do you belong to, Lily?"

"You," she gasps as I tear at her pants, needing them gone.

"Good girl," I growl, pushing aside her panties with my fingers as I slam myself into her at full force, watching her eyes prick with tears as she cries out my name over and over, head dropping to my shoulder. I bury myself as deep as I can do, sucking on her neck to reclaim what's rightfully mine. "I love you too, baby, and you're never fucking leaving me again, bub."

"I know," she whispers, kissing me, hard. "I'll never leave you again."

Wait, how the fuck did I get so lucky?