Page 1

CHAPTER 1

ALEC

Don’t get me wrong—my teammates deserve to be happy. But seeing the ones I’m closest to suddenly coupled off, three guys married and two in serious relationships—I have to admit. I didn’t see this one coming.

I’m the Appies captain. And I’m spending my Friday night with the rookies because all of my friends are at some sort of couples’ party.

They invited me.

They aren’t jerks.

But I’m not enough of a masochist to go to something like that on my own. Even sitting at Mulligan’s with a pair of eighteen-year-old defensemen is better than watching my friends pretend I’m as interesting as the women in their lives.

Across the table, Carter, one of the newest Appies, laughs and Coke comes out of his nose. His twin brother, Theo—they were recruited together because of how well they read each other on the ice—smacks him on the back and they both start to laugh.

I twitch as my jaw tenses.

I take it back. This isn’t better.

I should have just stayed home. There’s a new episode of The Voice I still haven’t watched, and there’s leftover lasagna in the fridge from the team dinner Felix hosted last night. Nobody makes lasagna like our goalie and… man, I sound old.

But these guys are barely out of high school. I’m practically babysitting. Especially since we’re in a bar, and they aren’t old enough to drink. Even if Mulligan’s won’t serve them—and they won’t—the twins are both wearing Appies gear. I can’t be sure an enthusiastic fan won’t buy them a round if I’m not watching.

“Dude, she’s checking you out,” Carter says, tilting his head toward the bar.

I glance over my shoulder and recognize a blond woman I’ve talked to before. Jessica? Jasmine? Jennifer? We make eye contact, and she lifts her fingers in a fluttery wave.

Last season, I might have invited her over. Bought her a drink. Charmed her like I know I can. But in my current mood, I can’t bring myself to care.

“Who’s checking who out?” Tucker says as he rejoins the table, fresh beer in hand. He was the one who convinced me to come to Mulligan’s in the first place—something about camaraderie and helping the rookies feel like they’re part of the team. That used to be me. Looking out for people, making sure we’re united on the ice and off. But Tucker has been stepping up lately. It’s a good thing, but I have to wonder what happened to the player I was last season and if he’ll ever make an appearance again.

Theo tilts his head toward the woman. “She is. Been staring at Captain all night.”

Tucker looks over his shoulder. “You know her, right? I can’t remember her name.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I say before draining the last of my drink. “I’m not interested.”

“That’s right. You’re still seeing that woman in Chicago. Riley somebody?”

I should probably correct him because I’m not seeing Riley. Not anymore.

I met her last spring when I was in Chicago doing a brand deal with the company she works for. We saw each other a few times over the summer, once when I went back to Chicago to visit, and two more times when she happened to be on the east coast for a wedding and then again visiting her family. She’s nice enough. But she’s busy and I’m busy, and whatever we had never felt special enough to do the extra work the distance created. She still texts every once in a while, and if she showed up in Harvest Hollow, I’d probably want to see her. But I think we both know nothing will ever happen between us.

But I don’t feel like explaining all that to Tucker. And it won’t change my level of interest in the woman at the bar. I glance at my watch.

“All right, I’m out,” I say.

“Already?” Theo asks.

“Already,” I repeat. “And you guys shouldn’t be far behind me. You’ll probably be on the ice a lot tomorrow.” Rookies usually are in preseason games, so I fully expect Coach Davis to start these two over me and Nathan, even though we usually defend with the first line. I hold up a warning finger. “That means no drinking. Even if someone offers.”

Theo and Carter nod in unison, their faces looking more similar than ever. “Right. Yes. Understood,” Carter says.

I glance over at Tucker. “Sorry to bail early.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “You already stayed longer than I thought you would.”

I tilt my head toward the pair of rookies. “Keep an eye on them?”

“You know I will.” Tucker cocks an eyebrow and smirks. “I know you older guys need more sleep than the rest of us.”

I clamp a hand down on his shoulder and squeeze a little too hard. “Do you think it’s my age or my sleep that makes me faster than you?”

Carter and Theo let out identical oooohs , but Tucker only chuckles.

“Yeah, yeah. Get out of here, old man.”

I leave the bar, ignoring the ache in my right knee. Considering how I’ve been feeling lately, old man isn’t that far off. At thirty-two, I’m one of the oldest guys on the team, maybe even in the league. And my body seems to be taking every opportunity to let me know.

Even after an off-season of careful training and intentional rest, I’m already feeling my time on the ice, and we haven’t even played a game yet. After an ACL injury my last season of college, and two more once I went pro, impacting both my ACL and MCL, I’ve gotten used to my knee giving me trouble. But there’s a new depth to the pain I definitely need to talk over with one of the Appies trainers. They’ve been telling me this might happen. That at some point, I’ll have to weigh my desire to keep playing against my desire to have general mobility once I retire—walking, running, hiking. Regular life stuff.

Hard to think about a life that doesn’t include pro hockey, but I get it.

The late September air is cool when I step into the parking lot, fall leaves crunching under my feet. I take a deep breath of mountain air. I used to think I’d move back to New York as soon as I could, but I’m not so sure anymore. It’d be nice to be closer to family, but there’s something about these mountains that makes me think I could live here too. Even when I no longer have to.

I’m halfway home when my phone buzzes with a call, and I answer it through my car’s sound system. “Hey, Meg,” I say.

“Hey!” My younger sister’s voice comes through with all the enthusiasm I’ve grown to expect. “I didn’t think you’d answer.”

“No?”

“Well, I mean, it’s Friday night, and you’re you. You aren’t out? On a date?”

“On my way home,” I say. “Got a game tomorrow.”

“Ohhh, that’s right. I’ve seen the news talking about it. Everyone’s out to take down the Calder Cup champions. Did you read the Sports News Daily article?” she asks. “They were not nice to you.”

The article Megan is referencing wasn’t nice to me. Well, it was sort of nice to me, but in a backhanded way. The point of the article was to identify all the players on the Appies hockey team who should be playing in the NHL, listing most of our first and second lines, as well as me and Nathan, who I usually play with as a defensive partner.

It’s not entirely untrue. Most AHL contracts are signed through the team’s NHL affiliate so players can easily shift from one organization to the other, according to what’s needed and where.

But the Appies aren’t typical. With our social media presence and huge fan following, there’s a lot of money in this team, even though it’s technically minor league. The Appies offer specific perks that give guys reasons to play here instead of aiming for the NHL. Which just means there’s a lot of talent on the Appies’ ice, and we’re hard to beat.

Logan, our first-line left winger, has the most NHL experience and will likely be recalled sooner than later. A few others play with the same possibility, knowing they could shift teams any minute. But a lot of us signed AHL-only contracts that aren’t up for renegotiation for another year or two. That means we’re likely to keep dominating, which is starting to piss off the other teams in our league.

My name was mentioned a few times in the article, including one memorable line that called me a “very talented idiot who should give up online dance trends and stick to hockey where he actually belongs.”

Flattering, I know.

What the article didn’t mention is that my reason for staying with the Appies has a lot less to do with the dancing (though I don’t really mind it) and a lot more to do with my knee.

It throbs as I shift my leg, easing off the gas to make a left turn.

I’m doing everything I can to make sure this isn’t my last season of professional hockey, but if it is, I’d rather finish proud with the teammates who have come to feel more like brothers than play for someone else just because some stupid article says I should. The Appies have been good to me. It’s not like I need the money.

“It’s fine,” I say to Megan. “You know I don’t care what they say.”

She makes a grumbling sound of complaint. “But you aren’t an idiot.”

“And Sports News Daily calling me one doesn’t make that any less true,” I say. “What’s up with you? How are Mom and Dad?”

“They just won a pickleball tournament in the over-seventy-five category,” Megan says.

Technically, Mom and Dad are actually Grandma and Grandpa, but they’ve been raising us since three days after Megan was born when our actual mother—their only daughter—walked out on all of us.

We didn’t see her for ten years, not until she showed up one random afternoon two weeks before I headed to Cornell for my freshman year of college. She was finally clean and sober and had a new husband, two stepchildren, and a brand new baby in her arms.

I barely recognized her, and Megan didn’t at all, so when she told her toddler-aged stepchildren we were their aunt and uncle, we went along with it. We’d already been calling our grandparents Mom and Dad for years anyway. From then on, we called our actual mom Stacy and thought of her kids, including our half-brother, as our nieces and nephews.

“Dad played pickleball?”

“And he really liked it,” Megan says.

I spent the last few weeks of my off-season up in New York with Megan, getting our parents moved out of the house in White Plains where they raised Megan and me and into a condo in a retirement community just down the road. No one was more surprised than me that they decided to move, but I do like knowing the change means they can get more help if they need it, especially since I’m so far away and Megan is still in school in the city.

Their neighborhood has several tiers of support for their residents, everything from meal delivery and daily check-ins with medical professionals to social gatherings and pickleball tournaments. Mom and Dad don’t need any of the more intense care yet and probably won’t for years. In a perfect world, they’ll be living with me or Megan before they do. But I’m happy they’re happy for now. That’s what matters most.

“He has these little white shorts and a visor, and you’d die if you saw him,” Megan says. “It’s so cute.”

“Send me a picture next time,” I say as I turn into my neighborhood, waiting for the security gate to open before passing one perfectly manicured lawn after another. “What else is up?”

“Actually, something pretty big,” Megan says. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

I ease the truck up my driveway and open the garage door, then slowly pull inside. I turn off the engine but keep my phone connected so I don’t lose Megan’s call. The house I bought in the off season is stupidly big for one person, but it came fully furnished, which seemed easy, and I liked the idea of a security gate. The Appies are only getting more popular, so anything that puts a little distance between me and curious fans is a good thing.

“Whatever you need,” I say to Megan without even having to think about it. I’d do anything for my little sister, and she knows it.

“So, you remember my best friend Evie?”

“Sure.” When I was in college at Cornell, home was only a few hours away, and even though hockey kept me busy, I still made it home enough to keep up with Megan’s life. Evie was around all the time. She was a pretty mellow kid. Funny like Megan, when she wanted to be, but never as giggly or silly as my sister.

“So, she just got this really incredible apprenticeship with a luthier in North Carolina,” Megan says.

“A what? What’s a luthier?”

“It’s someone who makes stringed instruments. Or maybe just repairs them? Actually, I think it’s both. Evie has always played the violin, but I’m with you. I had no idea this was even a thing until she called to tell me about it. Anyway, apparently it’s this really big deal that she was chosen because she’ll be learning from one of the best in the business. It just means she has to move to Harvest Hollow.”

“Ah,” I say, suddenly sensing where this conversation is headed. I shouldn’t be surprised. This is generally how Megan operates. If she loves someone, she’ll do anything for them and, by extension, expect me to do anything for them too.

The only problem is, Megan loves everyone. Even strangers. She once gave my phone number to a couple of Appies fans she sat with on an airplane, promising them I’d be happy to get them tickets.

That only happened once because while her love knows no bounds, mine does. And it’s firmly on the side of protecting my privacy.

“So I’m guessing you’re asking me to help her move?”

“That would be amazing,” Megan says. “I know I’m always doing this, but this time, Evie really needs the help. She doesn’t know anyone in North Carolina. And she’s basically like a sister to you, so you really have to say yes.”

She’s not quite like a sister, seeing as how I haven’t seen or spoken to her in years. And my season is just about to start. I’m not exactly rolling around in free time. “You know I would, Meg, but I’m gone more than I’m not.”

“No, I know,” Megan says. “But we actually checked your game schedule and picked a timeframe that won’t conflict. You shouldn’t be traveling at all when she gets into town.”

It’s the most Megan thing I’ve ever heard. Of course she would check my game schedule before checking with me. Still, it’s hard to be annoyed because Megan is the kind of sister who would get on a flight tomorrow if she thought I needed a hug. I’ve been on the receiving end of her devotion way more times than she’s roped me into helping someone else, which is both amazing and frustrating.

Because it means I won’t say no, and Megan knows it.

“Did she for real base her move on when I’ll be in town?”

“She has to be there when her apprenticeship starts no matter what,” Megan says. “But she wants to get into town a couple of weeks early so she has time to get settled with Juno and figure out childcare. She literally has no one else who can help. Please? I promised her you’d be willing. She’s already going to feel so overwhelmed because Juno is only four months old.”

“Juno?”

“Her daughter.”

I groan. “Megan. Evie has a kid?” I don’t know a lot about kids, but I’m guessing they make everything more complicated. Especially moving.

“A very small one,” Megan says. “She won’t get in the way at all.”

I huff out a laugh. “I highly doubt that’s true.”

“Probably not,” Megan says. “But if you can’t help, I’m going to have to miss a week of class to do it myself, and that will probably mean failing at least two of my classes, which would set me back?—”

“Fine. Fine!” I say, cutting her off. “I’ll help her.”

I hear the smile in Megan’s voice when she says, “Thank you. You’re the best brother ever.”

I lean back in my seat. “I can’t believe Evie has a kid. Is she even old enough for that?”

“She’s twenty-three,” Megan says. “Three months older than me.”

“Is she married?”

“Alec. I was in her wedding. You saw all the pictures.”

A few vague memories of Evie’s wedding pop into my mind. Or more just memories of thinking she was way too young to be getting married. “Oh, that’s right. I do remember. But if she’s married, why does she need help moving?”

“Because she’s divorced,” Megan says. “And don’t even get me started on her jerk of an ex-husband.”

A surge of protectiveness pushes through me. She’s divorced with a four-month-old baby? What kind of a loser husband did she have?

Maybe it’s the similarity to my own situation—I’m no stranger to dads cutting out on their kids—but the thought makes me want to punch something. Who would do that?

“That really sucks.”

“It does. But she’s tough. Just not tough enough to unload her moving pod by herself with a baby strapped to her chest. Think you could take over some teammates to help?”

“Anything else I can do? Stock her pantry? Mow the lawn before she gets into town?”

“Stop being snarky,” Megan says. “Did I catch you in a grumpy mood or something?”

Or something.

“Evie is literally the least demanding person ever,” Megan continues. “Once you get her stuff unloaded, you’ll probably never even hear from her again. I practically had to coerce her into letting me call you in the first place, and I know the only reason she caved is because her finances are really tight and she can’t afford to pay for movers.”

The note of genuine concern in Megan’s voice softens the last bit of my resistance. Honestly, I’m not even sure why I’ve been hesitating. A year ago, this is the kind of thing I would have agreed to in a second. But everything has felt harder lately. Hockey stuff. Social stuff. Just general life stuff. I haven’t truly been myself since training started back up. But that’s not an excuse to be a jerk. To Megan or Evie.

“It’s fine. I’m sorry. I’ll take some guys over, and we’ll take care of it.”

“Perfect. Thank you.”

“Do you know where she’s moving?” I ask.

“I can text you the address,” Megan says. “It’s a house on this cute street with tons of trees. It looked totally adorable in the pictures.”

“She hasn’t seen it in person?”

“It’s just a rental, and of course she hasn’t. She just had a baby. It’s not like she’s had time to hop on down to North Carolina to check things out.”

I finally climb out of my truck, switching Megan’s call back onto my phone and turning on the speaker. “If you send me the address soon, I’ll drive over and check it out. Make sure it’s in an okay part of town.” This concession at least makes me feel better about my initially grumpy response.

“That would be awesome. See? I told her you’d be willing to help. She’ll be so happy to have a friend in town.”

“I’ll do what I can,” I say. “But remind her how much I’m gone. And I will be useless when it comes to the baby. I don’t do babies.”

Megan scoffs as I unlock my front door. “What does that even mean? You don’t do babies?”

“It means exactly what it means. I’m not a babysitter.”

“I would not have asked you to babysit.”

“You just had someone plan an entire move around my schedule without asking me first. Would babysitting really be that much of a stretch?”

“Okay. That’s fair,” Megan says. “Juno is a cute baby, though.”

“She could be the cutest baby in the world and it wouldn’t matter.” I finally climb out of my truck, waiting for my phone to grab the call back from the car before heading inside. “I’ve only ever held one, and it was our nephew. Half-brother. Whatever Stacy’s kid is to us. The point is, he’s eleven now. That was a long time ago.”

“That’s the thing. Most people have never held a baby until they have one. Pretty sure it’s one of those things you just figure out.” She yawns. “Okay. I gotta get back to studying. Thanks for helping Evie. Can I just give her your number?”

“Sure.”

“K, I will. But Alec?—”

Her words cut off, and I wait as I toss my keys onto the kitchen counter and toe off my shoes. “What?” I finally prompt.

She takes a breath, then hesitates before finally saying, “I’m just trying to decide if I need to say what I was thinking out loud.”

“Just say it.”

“It’s just that Evie has really been through something. She needs your help, but she doesn’t need you to be handsome and charming.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that you’re you, and women love you.”

“Megan. She’s, what, nine years younger than I am? I promise I’m capable of helping a woman without asking her out.”

“I know. I know! That’s not even what I’m saying because honestly, I wouldn’t hate it if you did ask her out. I just mean maybe not right now, okay? She’s fragile.”

“The thought has never occurred to me. She’s your age . I’m way too old for her.”

Megan is quiet for a beat before she says, “You might feel differently when you see her. She’s changed a lot since high school.”

“Unless she miraculously aged five years, I doubt it.”

“Okay, okay,” my sister says. “I believe you. But the warning still stands. Be careful with Evie.”

We chat for a few more minutes before I end the call, but even after I hang up, I can’t quite shake Megan’s words or the knowing tone she used when she said them.

You might feel differently when you see her.