Page 16
CHAPTER 16
Farren
S now crunches underfoot as we make our way toward the clearing where the sled dogs are waiting.
I have to let that replay through my mind one more time.
Where freaking sled dogs are waiting!
I still can’t believe such a thing is possible only thirty miles outside of the city. More importantly, I still can’t believe I’m here on a “date” with North, hanging out with his teammates and their significant others. He let the cat out of the bag before the home game against the New York Vipers last night.
We did not, however, make our first appearance as a “couple” following the game because it was a dismal loss and we went to North’s house after.
The team itself seemed just a little off, although Penn Navarro was way off. North told me last night about the teddy bear delivery with the cryptically ominous note left with it. We spent a long time in bed last night talking about all the possibilities and Penn remains a bigger mystery than ever.
But today is the day that people will preview me and North as being together and I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was a little nervous. The air is icy and crisp, the scenery so beautiful I don’t care about the cold. There was a nice snow yesterday and the pine trees are ladened with pillows of white fluff, the sky a brilliant, cloudless blue.
North walks beside me, his gloved hand brushing against mine occasionally as we follow the guide. His cheeks are tinged red from the cold, his breath forming little clouds in the air. He looks so damn good bundled up in a thick coat, beanie and scarf that I have to remind myself not to stare.
“Cold?” he asks, glancing at me.
“All good,” I say quickly, even though my toes are slightly numb despite my winter boots. “This is nothing. I’m Canadian, remember?”
He smirks. “Right. We’re practically immune to frostbite.”
“You should’ve seen me and Raff when we were kids. We’d stay outside so long our lips would turn blue and Mom would make us take hot baths the minute we came inside to warm us up. I remember being so cold it was painful when we submerged into that hot water, but it never deterred us.”
“Sounds about right,” he says with a chuckle. “Always been a little wild, haven’t you? ”
I don’t respond, but his words sit with me. Wild. Free-spirited. It’s what everyone thinks about me. But North is the only one who knows it’s a mask. I was honest with him about it to some extent but without details, and now he knows a little something about me that I’ve never even admitted to those closest to me. Namely my brother and parents.
When things get serious, I get going.
“All right, folks,” one of the guides calls out, drawing my attention back. “We’re all set up and the dogs are ready to run!”
Ahead of us, King and Willa are already at one of the sleds, Willa crouched to pet a husky that looks like it’s about to vibrate out of its skin with excitement. Foster and Mazzy stand nearby, Mazzy snapping pictures while Foster smiles in amusement.
“Atlas is missing out,” Mazzy comments as we join them. “I can’t believe he bailed when he heard this was a couples thing.”
My stomach tightens at the word couples , and I sneak a glance at North. He doesn’t react outwardly, but his jaw tightens slightly, the only tell he’s heard it too. He implored his buddies not to make a big deal out of this in deference to my unease, and it freaking makes my heart thump a little with tenderness that he’s trying to make this easy on me. While protecting my boundaries, he’s protecting me, and it makes me like him all the more.
So damned dangerous but I don’t walk away.
“Not his scene,” North says lightly, stepping closer to the sled. “He’d rather be home doing whatever Atlas does.”
“Probably working out,” King says with a shrug. “The guy doesn’t take a day off.”
Willa stands, brushing snow from her gloves. “It’s too bad. This is going to be amazing.”
She turns to me, her smile warm. “I’m so glad you came, Farren. It’s nice to have more women around for these things.”
I manage a bright smile, pushing away the couples comment and remembering that these people are my friends. “Thanks for inviting me. This will be a blast.”
And so far, it’s not been too weird. We all met in the parking lot of this operation and no one looked at me and North funny, nor did they tease us or ask a million questions. Everyone seems to accept that we are here together and they’re not making a big deal about it.
I only wish Rafferty would’ve come. It’s been two days since Tempe left for college and he’s in a bit of a funk, but he wanted to go visit her mom today and I can’t blame him for that. He’s promised Tempe to keep an eye on her and her brother, and he’s going to live up to that.
The guide begins explaining how the sledding works, assigning each couple to a sled. While I’m hyperaware of how much this outing is pushing the boundaries of “casual,” I’m determined to just enjoy this time.
We approach our vehicle with six beautiful Siberian huskies already harnessed and ready to go. The one in the lead is white and charcoal gray with hypnotic golden eyes that make him look wolfish. I can make out his name on his leather harness.
Miska.
He comes toward me and I reach a hand out to pet him. “Aren’t you a good boy?”
He shakes his entire body and prances in place.
I study the sled hitched to the dogs. It’s designed to sit two people, one in front of the other, with the driver standing at the rear to guide us. We’re introduced to our musher, an older man with a face ruddy from days spent outdoors with likely no sunscreen. He tells us to get situated inside the sled while he checks the dogs and harnesses one last time.
North gestures for me to climb in first, the wooden frame creaking slightly under my weight. He settles in behind me, his strong legs closing me in, and settles a blanket over my lap. I rest my weight against him, loving his strength and warmth and the smell of his woodsy cologne.
Accepting the comfort and protection.
North plants a quick kiss on the back of my head but no one is watching us.
“You good?” North asks.
“This is cozy,” I tease, tugging the blanket up to my chin and wiggling back against him.
North groans and tickles my ribs. “Quit rubbing up against me.”
“You love it,” I purr, leaning back and resting an arm along the sled’s edge.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” North warns. “I might take over the steering if they let me.”
I glance over my shoulder at the guide, who’s chuckling as he steps on the brake to hold the sled in place. “Let’s stick with the professionals for now,” I reply, raising an eyebrow at North.
“Smart move,” the guide chimes in with a grin. “But don’t worry. I’ll let you take a turn steering once we’re on a straight path. Just keep your hands and feet inside the sled for now.”
As the dogs begin to bark and lunge, their excitement building, North moves close, his breath visible in the frosty air. “Ready for this?” he asks, his voice low but tinged with excitement.
Before I can answer, the guide gives a sharp whistle, and the sled lurches forward. The world around us becomes a blur of white and barking dogs as we race down the trail, the sled gliding effortlessly over the packed snow .
I can’t help a cry of delight as the cold wind burns my face and North’s arms wrap around me.
The dogs bark and howl, their energy contagious as they strain against their harnesses. Holy hell they’re fast, and I tip my head back, laughing at the blue sky.
“Lean with the turns,” the musher instructs, his voice firm but calm. “Let the sled do the work.”
We follow his lead, gripping the sides as we race through the snow. The exhilaration is worth every frozen second. The dogs are incredible, their strength and speed almost otherworldly.
“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” North asks, his grin wide.
“Are you kidding? This is amazing!” I shout back, the wind stealing half my words.
We slide along trails through a large copse of evergreen trees, across a bridge that spans a nearly frozen stream and across what looks to be farmland. We come around a bend and the sled slows as we approach a clearing where the guide signals for a stop. “We’ll break here for a bit.”
I glance over my shoulder, see the others in our group approaching. Everyone’s got smiles as big as their faces as we exit the sleds. The dogs pant, their breath visible in the cold air, and we all dismount to stretch our legs while the mushers provide water for the huskies.
There’s a firepit set up with benches and thermoses of hot chocolate. Willa and Mazzy pour mugs for us all and hand them out as we gather around the fire, basking in the warmth.
“This is perfect,” Willa says, cradling her cocoa. “I might never leave.”
Foster rests against a log, his face relaxed as he nudges Mazzy’s leg. “You’re like a kid in a candy store.”
“I can say the same about you,” Mazzy says with a shrug. “Everyone here, really.”
As the conversation flows, I notice North cough softly into his glove. It’s the second or third time I’ve heard him do it today, and I’m wondering if his flushed face is from the cold or something else.
“You all right?” I ask quietly.
“Fine,” he says, brushing it off. “Just a tickle.”
The conversation shifts to Penn, a man who’s been on everyone’s minds.
“Did anyone figure out what was up with that teddy bear yesterday?” Foster asks casually, but his eyes are sharp.
“All I know is it rattled the shit out of Penn,” North says. By the grave looks on Willa’s and Mazzy’s faces, I’m guessing they’re up to date on what happened in the locker room.
King is abnormally quiet though and North shoots him a pointed look. “What do you think? You’ve always been the one who made the consistent effort with Penn. You’ve stayed behind on more than one occasion to encourage him to come hang with us and seem to have the best rapport with the dude off the ice. Not that that’s saying much.”
His expression is troubled as he glances around at us. “I know something.”
King and North stare at him slack-jawed, clearly shocked at the revelation.
“I can’t tell you details because I promised him I wouldn’t. But let’s just say he’s got reason to be the way he is.”
“Whoa, wait a minute,” Foster says. “When did you talk to him?”
“How did you get him to talk to you is the better question?” North asks.
King nods, rubbing at his jaw. We women all watch silently. “It was after the Winnipeg game a few weeks ago.”
Foster shakes his head. “That’s the one where McLendon went after Penn.”
King nods, and I remember watching that game on TV. It was obvious that McLendon had it out for Penn from the first drop of the puck. He put two nasty hits on him, the last one causing King to jump to Penn’s defense and he knocked the shit out of McLendon in retaliation, earning them both penalties.
“Look,” King says with a sigh. “I will never tell you what Penn told me in confidence, but I got him to talk to me ironically because of the McLendon thing.”
“I don’t track,” Foster says.
“McLendon said a few things to me on the ice and I’m not violating any promises by telling you that much since anyone could have heard it. But after his first hit on Penn, I warned him to back off and he told me to keep a close eye on Penn because bad things happen to bad people .”
It’s Willa who gasps. “He said that about Penn? Called him bad?”
King nods, reaching over to squeeze Willa’s hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that part.”
“No, I get it,” she says, waving off his concern.
“And then after the second hit,” King continues, “after we got our penalties and were skating to the boxes, I asked him what his problem was. And he said that Penn deserved it and more. He said some things you don’t forgive.”
“What the fuck?” North growls incredulously. “What the hell does that even mean?”
King lets out a mirthless laugh. “I was curious myself, so I approached McLendon after the game and asked him. He refused to say anything but told me to ask Penn. So I did.”
“And he just poured everything out to you?” Foster asks skeptically. “I find that hard to believe. ”
“Me too,” King admits. “But he did and he swore me to secrecy, and here we stand. I’m only telling you this much because I’m seriously concerned about the guy. That teddy bear was creepy as hell.”
“Do you think McLendon sent the bear?” I ask, hoping it’s okay for me to be part of the conversation. I am, after all, a part of this Titans family by virtue of sharing the same blood as Rafferty.
And now as… North’s girlfriend?
“I have no clue,” King says. “But that wasn’t the only incident.”
“Shit, that’s right,” North says. His eyes come to me. “Back in November, a fan threw a water bottle at Penn and called him a traitor, or something like that. We just thought it was an angry Spartans fan since he left that team high and dry when he came to Pittsburgh.”
“What in the hell could he have done to cause such enmity?” Mazzy wonders. “I know he’s sort of reclusive, but he seems like a good guy when he’s in player mode.”
Before anyone can answer, one of the mushers walks into our circle. “Hate to break up the party, but we’re ready to get going. Anyone feel confident enough to do some steering?”
“Me,” North says quickly and we all laugh.
We down the rest of our cocoa and head back to the sleds for the return trip. All the guys take a very short stint on the back, mushing and steering, but then North is settled warmly behind me once again.
The ride feels even faster this time, the dogs tearing through the snow with unrelenting energy. North’s arm wraps around my stomach, holding me tight to him. It’s a steadying presence that feels more reassuring than I’d like to admit.
When we finally return to the starting point, I feel a strange mix of exhilaration and exhaustion. As we help unhook the dogs and thank the guides, I realize something surprising—I enjoyed this. Not just the sledding, but the whole outing. The couples, the conversation, the shared experience.
It felt normal.
No, that’s not quite right. It felt special, but natural.
“Ready to head out?” North asks, his voice breaking through my thoughts.
I nod, falling into step beside him. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
We say our goodbyes, which consist of warm hugs and fist bumps, along with promises to do another couples outing to include Rafferty and Tempe when she comes home for a visit.
As we walk back to the truck, I glance at North out of the corner of my eye. He’s coughing again, a little harder this time, and I feel a tug of worry.
“You sure you’re not getting sick?” I ask.
“I’m fine,” he insists, but his voice is hoarse, and I don’t believe him for a second .
As we climb into the truck, I make a command decision. “Let’s swing by the grocery store.”
“What for?” he asks, starting the engine and then immediately succumbing to another coughing fit. “I thought maybe we’d go out for dinner.”
“I’m making you homemade chicken noodle soup,” I say, my expression no-nonsense and not to be trifled with.
North’s expression turns gooey soft, and it’s clear that I just hit a home run in the feels department for him. I think about making a sarcastic quip to dull the connection, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I kind of like making him happy.