“I’m Holden Prescott. I play hockey for the Minnesota Wolves.” I wanted to finish there, stand up, and walk away, but I’m pretty sure being agood sportwas part of the contract. “If I had to be a reindeer…” I racked my brain to come up with something—anything, atthis point. “I would be Comet because I’m fast on the ice.”
A short burst of song came through the speakers that sounded a lot like “Jingle Bells,” signaling the end of the icebreaker time. Thank goodness. Saved by the bell—literally.
Then it was on to a group photo, in which all of us had to wear a Santa hat, before we were ushered over to tables where we’d sit to greet the fans.
The double doors opened on the other side of the room, and a line of people began filing in, each wearing a lanyard that held their VIP ticket.
A young boy made a beeline for my table, and I couldn’t help the small smile that escaped at his excitement. Meeting people like this kid was definitely a highlight of the job.
The boy, who looked no more than twelve years old, held my jersey in his hand. “I’m your biggest fan,” he informed me, his words rushed. “I’ve been a fan since you first got drafted to the New York Coyotes and…” He paused, looking around like he lost something. “I should have brought that jersey too,” he said more to himself than to me.
His mom stood behind him and patted him on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Sam. You have his current jersey for him to sign.”
He perked back up. “And I followed your trade last year to the Minnesota Wolves with Zeke Lawson. Sucks that he isn’t playing anymore, but it’s okay since he’s old.”
I tried to hold in my laughter at the boy’s last comment and would definitely be sharing that the next time I talked to Zeke. And the kid was right—it did suck that Zeke was no longer playing, even though his replacement, Cornell, was beginning to figure things out.
“Do you play hockey, Sam?” I asked him.
He nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir. I’m a left wingman, just like you.”
“Glad we both play the best position.” I smiled. “Are you going to be at the Holiday Hockey Shootout later this week?” It was one of the events I was scheduled to attend, where people donated to play to raise money for the charity.
“Yeah.” He then turned to look up at his mom. “We’re going to be there, right?”
She nodded.
“Then I’ll see you there, and maybe I can show you a few of my favorite tricks.”
“Really? That would be so cool.”
He handed me his jersey, and I signed my name.
“Thank you, Holden Prescott.”
This time, a full smile crossed my lips. Funny how some fans loved to say my whole name. “You’re welcome, Sam. I’ll see you later.”
He walked away, holding up the jersey and staring at my autograph.
“I know he said he was your biggest fan, but it’s actually me.”
I looked up to find my Aunt Maggie standing in front of my table next.
I let out a small chuckle. Of course she was here supporting me. I should have known. As wealthy as she and my uncle were, she definitely had enough money to buy one of the VIP tickets.
But then Belle stepped out from behind her, and I was momentarily taken aback by her presence. I hadn’t expected to see her. And although I preferred the look she’d had when we’d first met, she still looked beautiful today, her honey-blond hair down, sleek and straight, with a black sweater and gray dress pants.
She gave me a half-hearted wave and the briefest of smiles.
I couldn’t help my brows from furrowing as I tried to piece together why she seemed so different from our time in New York, but before I could attempt to figure anything out, Aunt Maggie was talking.
“I brought Isabelle with me because she doesn’t have a jersey signed by you.” She pulled out a jersey from her large purse. “Good thing I brought one.” She thrust it out to me, the jersey inches from my face.
I took the jersey and laid it out in front of me. “Yeah, good thing.” I mentally shook my head at her.
Aunt Maggie probablywasmy biggest fan. A twinge of guilt went through my gut. I’d been horrible at keeping in touch since moving to Minnesota. Although if I were being honest, I hadn’t done a great job of visiting her even when I had been living in New York. She had been nothing but kind to me, and she deservedmore than me ignoring her. That was a huge reason why I’d invited her here this week, but actually spending time with her—with family—wasn’t something that came easily to me.
I signed my name and handed the jersey to Belle. “Sorry my aunt dragged you down here.”
