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"It’s like an intimate confetti cannon just exploded in here."

James Adler

Tonight is our home opener, and I’m pumped to be back on the ice with a packed arena. As much as I enjoy a little time off, hockey season is when I thrive.

Yet the moment practice is over, I still get in my car and drive to the Golden Age Nursing Home, twenty minutes away.

With the season ramping up again, I won’t be able to come as often, so I want to make the most of the time I have left.

My grandma used to be a resident at the home, and I grew close to the other folks who live there.

As I walk in, I’m greeted with bright smiles by Lea and Maddie, who work at Golden Age.

“James! We weren’t sure you’d make it this week. They’re going to be excited to see you.”

Now, it’s my turn to smile. Because as happy as they are to have my company, I’m even more thrilled to spend time with them.

After a couple minutes of chitchat, I walk into the common room. It’s a large space with tables and sofas scattered around for the residents’ enjoyment during the day. There’s usually a wild card game being played, a focused chess game taking place, and several animated conversations being held.

“James!” Martha calls from her usual seat at the poker table. The other players—Bill, Esther, and a lady I don’t know—all turn around, their faces lighting up.

“There he is,” Bill says, standing up slowly, and I join them, urging them to stay seated.

“Grab a seat, boy,” Martha says as I hug each of them in turn.

“And who is this lovely lady?” I ask when I make it to the woman I don’t recognize.

Martha flashes a smile. “This i s Lois, a new arrival. She’s got a knack for cards.”

“Nice to meet you, Lois. I’m James.”

“Hello, James,” she greets me, her eyes narrowing slightly. There’s something familiar about her, but I can’t pinpoint what it is. “Do you play poker?”

“Absolutely.” I grin. “That’s why I’m here.”

We start chatting, and soon, we’re fully invested in our game. Martha was right, Lois is a great card player—and a fantastic bluff. I’m going to have to up my game.

“Full house,” she says, showing her hand. That’s her third win in a row.

“Son of a biscuit!” I growl. I really thought I was going to win this one with my flush.

“Oh!” Esther exclaims while Martha just throws her cards on the table.

This is not good. Especially with the already-elevated blood pressure around here.

We play for another half hour before Martha calls it a day, saying she wants to go take a nap. Although she’s a notorious sore loser, so she might just be sulking in her room. Lois follows suit, high on her winning streak.

“How long are you staying today?” Bill asks, putting the cards away. “Do you want to play rummy?”

“Only another hour. Season star ts today,” I say with a wide grin. We don’t usually talk about hockey—which I appreciate greatly, given it’s all I think about outside this place. The only exception is Bill, who’s a hockey fan, through and through.

“Oh, golly! Is it starting up already? I didn’t even know it was October yet.”

I chuckle. “I know. It’s crazy how time flies.”

“Are you ready for the season?” he asks, stacking the cards. “I’ll try to watch the game tonight.”

“We are. It’s always exciting to start a new season, especially as the defending champs.”

“Don’t let the pressure get to you,” he says, squeezing my shoulder. “What else is going on with you? Anything new to report?”

I lean back against my chair. “Afraid not. Things are pretty boring out there. I’m sure you have much more exciting developments here at Golden Age.”

Bill laughs, looking around. “It does feel a bit like those fake television shows they always have on.”

It takes me a second to catch up. “You mean reality TV?”

“Is that what it’s called? Doesn’t seem too realistic to me,” he says with a chuckle. “Always arguing and wearing too much makeup.”

“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.” I laugh.

He frowns, his bushy eyebrows colliding. “What’s the deal with that, anyway?”

I shrug. “Beats me.”

It’s true. I’ve never understood those new beauty standards—the blown-up lips that threaten to deflate under an angry kiss, or faces caked with ten layers of makeup.

A lot of girls look like Barbie dolls today.

It probably comes from their own insecurities, because I don’t think a single man in history has ever said, ‘Darn it! If only she had longer eyelashes!’ Thinking about this topic immediately puts Elizabeth and her naturally flawless features front and center in my mind.

Her smooth skin, the perfect shape of her kissable lips, how her gray-blue eyes widen when I flirt with her.

“So, still no Mrs. Adler?” Bill asks, pulling me back to reality.

A laugh bursts out of me. “Nope. I’d have to be dating someone for quite a while before that happens.”

He shrugs. “In my day, people got married weeks after meeting each other.”

“Wow.” I blink back in shock. I guess when you know, you know?

“It was a different time, that ’s for sure,” he says with a faint smile, looking off to the side, probably remembering that bygone era.

“Well, when I do find someone, you’ll be the first to know,” I say with a nod. “Is your family visiting this week?”

He shakes his head. “No, my eldest son is on vacation, and the youngest is working a lot at the moment—too much, if you ask me.”

“I’m sorry. I hope you see them soon. But until then, I’m here for you, of course.”

“You’re a good man, James.” His eyes crinkle with a smile. “I know Diane is looking down on you, and she’s so proud. You can count on it.”

His words touch something deep in my heart.

My grandma was everything to me. She raised me, put me through school, helped me get into hockey, and was my fiercest cheerleader.

I miss her every day. Coming to this place is always nostalgic.

I see her everywhere I look. But it’s also a painful reminder that she’s not here.

“Thanks, Bill.”

We move on to other topics, and soon enough, it’s already time for me to call it a day.

But after my visit, I feel so energized for tonight.

I know it’s silly, coming to Golden Age when I don’t even have a relative staying here anymore, but these are some of the o nly people who treat me like a normal human being.

Don’t get me wrong, I love hockey. It’s a dream come true, being able to play for a living. But it’s also nice to have normal conversations and be liked for something other than my skills on the ice—or my looks.

It’s refreshing to feel loved just for being, rather than doing.

Beth Bowen

Marissa and I finish packing all my bags into Aaron’s trunk, and despite how heavy they are, I’ve never felt lighter.

I know I’ve made the right decision. Lucas hasn’t even tried calling since I caught him in his lie last night.

That’s how much he cares about me. It’s a shame it took me another blatant round of evidence of his cheating to realize what an awful boyfriend he was.

I’ve already started to look at apartments to rent, but Brooklyn is crazy expensive.

I’ll need a couple of weeks to figure things out and find something decent in my price range.

Thankfully, I have the most amazing friend in the world, and her husband isn’t half bad either.

I know that taking me in while they’re still in their honeymoon phase is less than ideal, but they didn’ t hesitate one second when I called this morning.

“You’re going to be okay,” Marissa reassures me, giving me a tight hug after closing the trunk. “I’m here for you.”

“Thank you,” I mutter, my voice wavering slightly. I feel the tears coming up, but I hold them back. No more crying today. Today, I’m starting over.

I’m grateful that I don’t have to worry about working this afternoon. My cousin Celia, who’s studying at NYU, frequently helps out at the shop, and she stepped in for us today so we could take care of this situation.

We drive to the modern building Aaron and Marissa call home—well, he doesn’t own the building, but he does live in one of the stylish apartments inside—and start hauling my stuff up to the elevator.

I don’t exactly travel light. What can I say?

This girl loves shopping online. And I also might have an entire bag just for my beauty products.

But a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

“Phew!” Marissa says, dropping the large bag she was carrying into the entryway. “That one was heavy.”

“Sorry.” I wince. “You stay here and catch your breath. I’ll go get the last one.”

“Gladly. Even with the elevator, I’m breaking a sweat. I need to exercise more.” She shakes out her shirt before gathering her long hair into a messy bun. “I’m going to take a shower, but you already know the place, so make yourself at home.”

“Thanks. I’ll be right back.”

I take the keys and ride the elevator down to grab the last of the bags from the car. It’s the lightest of them all—a tote bag with my underwear. What? We ran out of space in my suitcases! I do feel bad carrying this now. I could have given this one to Marissa. She’s already done so much for me.

I walk back into the building and wait for the elevator. It finally opens with a ping, and I startle when I see James Adler inside, wearing a freaking suit .

With everything happening, I completely forgot James lives in the same building as Aaron.

His brows furrow. “Elizabeth? What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

How does this man always seem to know when something’s up? Does he have a sixth sense? Or maybe it’s those deep cobalt blue eyes that can see straight through my skin.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just going to Aaron and Marissa’s,” I say, struggling to tear my gaze away.