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God help me, I need that.

And for the first time in my entire goddamn career…

I don’t know if hockey’s worth it anymore.

Chapter Four

Joely

Sometimes you can feel a mistake in your bones before it ever happens. Like the air changes or the ground tilts just a little. Like the universe taps you on the shoulder and says, ‘Hey, you sure about that?’ Because that’s exactly the kind of day it is. The kind where the wind carries a warning and the holiday lights flicker just a little too hard. Like they know something you don’t, but of course nobody ever listens. Not when they’re busy juggling bar tabs and chasing old dreams, and ordering coasters with good intentions and questionable execution. Not when the heart’s already halfway to disaster, and your brain’s lagging ten paces behind. But don’t worry, I’ve seen it all from the top of the arena to the edge of Lake Superior, and let me tell you, sometimes the best things in life come gift-wrapped in chaos sprinkled with denial and topped with a bright red bow that says, ‘Oops.’

Playlist: Oops!… I Did It Again by Britney Spears

The day’s been one of those where the clock seems to sprint while I’m still tying my shoelaces. With the afternoon rush at Power Play finally thinning out, I seize the moment to tackle the looming task of ordering our holiday coasters—a job I’ve been pushing off amidst the chaos of game nights and special events.

Grabbing my jacket and the holiday sample coaster Beth approved, I hustle out into the brisk air. The streets are bustling with the early stirrings of evening activity, the town gearing up for another lively night.

I push through the door of Heath’s family print shop, greeted by the familiar chime that always seems too cheerful. Inside, the warm, ink-scented air of the shop wraps around me, a stark contrast to the crisp outside. Heath is behind the counter, arranging some newly printed flyers, his back to the entrance.

“Heath!” I call out, and he turns, a broad grin spreading across his face as he spots me.

“Joely! To what do I owe the pleasure?” His voice is warm, filled with the easy familiarity of our long-standing friendship.

“Just the usual pre-holiday madness,” I reply, approaching the counter while fishing the coaster out of my pocket. “How’s business?”

“Booming, thankfully,” he answers, eyes twinkling. “You know, the usual chaos that December brings. Everyone wants something custom for the holidays.”

I nod, setting my bag down with a sigh. “Tell me about it. I’m here to make sure Power Play stays on that custom train. Got our holiday order ready to go.”

He leans on the counter, his interest piqued. “Oh, going for something special this year?”

“Just the annual refresh. Keeps the regulars happy and the place festive,” I say, hoping to breeze through this errand and get back before the evening crowd hits. “This year, Beth was hopingfor some Christmas Carol trivia or something? The regulars love it.”

As Heath gestures for me to come closer, I get caught up instead in the comforting routine of small-town business and banter. Heath plays on the Slammers in addition to managing the print shop, and his little sister, Lynsie, is one of my best friends.

“So, do you think you can do the song trivia thing?” I prompt, already checking the time on my phone. Every minute counts when you’re running the busiest bar in town.

His eyes narrow again, and I clock the fact that he’s grimacing.

“Seriously, Heath. I’m running late. I don’t have time for this. You know who it’s for,” I add, trying to hurry him along. His pace today is like he’s intentionally moving through molasses.

He looks up, his eyebrows arching playfully. “Right. Beth Foster. And billing info,” he continues, pretending to shuffle through papers that don’t exist on the counter.

“Heath. Come on. She has an account. You know this. Tick tock,” I press, my voice edging into exasperation. “I’ve got to get the bar set up for the rush tonight.”

“Right. No time to spare,” he agrees, but his tone tells me he’s enjoying this far too much. “Did you bring a sample of the design? Beth must have done a mockup on a napkin or something?”

I pull out the coaster, slapping it down a bit harder than necessary. “Here’s the design. She wants trivia questions printed in candy cane stripes with little elves doing faceoffs in the corners.”

Heath picks it up, turning it over in his hands with an exaggerated thoroughness that’s starting to grate. “Huh. I guess Beth has a favorite son,” he remarks, a sly grin curling his lips as he nods towards the coaster.

“No. She loves them all equally,” I retort with a wink, trying to match his levity despite the creeping concern that I might be missing a joke here.

“So, you’re sure about this design?” Heath asks, his voice laden with a humor I don’t fully appreciate right now.

“I’m sure Beth will be pissed if you don’t use the design she gave me,” I snap, my patience thinning. “She was very clear about the trivia aspect.”

“Right. So this is the design she gave you,” he repeats, a note of finality in his voice that suggests he’s about to let the matter drop—but not without one last dig.