Page 63

I shake my head. “Sorry, man. He’s not used to kids. Or people. Or being sober.”

Shep pats his coat. “Only sober until it’s cocoa time, baby.”

Just then, one of the kids jogs over, eyes wide. “Coach Foster, right?”

I scratch the back of my neck. “I mean… I helped one day.”

The kid looks from me to Joely. “Is this your girlfriend?”

I glance at her. She’s biting her lip, cheeks flushed—but maybe that’s from the cold.

“She’s a girl,” I say slowly, “and she’s my friend.”

The kid grins. “So that makes her your girlfriend.”

Bennett yells from the top of the hill, “Now do the k-i-s-s-i-n-g one! Her name’s Joely!”

Joely smirks. “I’m gonna kill him.”

Before I can shut it down, the pack of little terrors swarms around us—sticky gloves, leaky noses, and enough energy to power the whole town. One ringleader, a pint-sized menace in a Paw Patrol hat, points at us with a sled. “We saw you holding hands!”

Another kid pipes up, voice high and gleeful: “Joely and Brogan sitting in a tree—K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

The whole herd joins in, stomping their boots and getting louder with each round:

“First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Joely with a baby carriage!”

Joely’s face goes scarlet. “Wow, okay, that escalated fast.”

One particularly sassy girl adds, “If you kiss her, I’m telling my mom. She says kissing gives you cooties and babies.”

One of the single moms, coffee in hand, gives us a sideways look and calls, “Alright, give ‘em a little space, you guys!” But she’s smiling, and I know she’ll be retelling this story all over town tomorrow.

Shep howls, egging them on. “Don’t forget, Coach Foster’s already got baby arms—just look at those muscles!”

Bennett, never missing a chance to stir the pot, hollers down, “Hey Joely, you want me to officiate? I’ve got an internet certificate!”

Heath cracks up so hard he nearly tips over backwards on his sled.

Meanwhile, the kids are still circling, now remixing the song into absolute anarchy:

“Joely and Brogan up a tree—K-I-S-S-I-N-G! Second verse, same as the first, a little bit louder and a whole lot worse!”

Joely groans, “I’m moving to Roseau.”

I grin, even as I want to throttle Bennett. “Sorry, JoJo. Once the Sorrowville gremlins get started, you’re doomed.”

And the kids just keep chanting, snow flying, snot dribbling, and every single parent pretending not to notice as they snap pictures to post in the town Facebook group.

Shep elbows me. “You know, you two really do make a cute couple.”

I groan and reach for Joely’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go get cocoa before Shep gets arrested. The concession stand is open until nine.”

I hold Joely’s hand tighter than I probably should as we trudge toward the small wooden hut, snow crunching under our boots. My grip’s more about self-preservation than romance right now—I need to remind myself she’s real and here with me and not just some fever dream conjured by winter air and hormones.

Also, I’m half-convinced if I let go, Shep will swoop in with a thermos of spiked cocoa and a marriage proposal.

“You good?” Joely asks, glancing at me sideways.