CHAPTER 1
FLETCH
The bright lightsoverhead shine like spotlights on a stage, illuminating the freshly groomed ice.
I take a deep breath, savoring that unmistakable hockey arena smell—a blend of cold air, sweat, and dreams. There’s nothing quite like it in the world.
The blades of my skates slice ribbons into the smooth surface as I take a lap, feeling the familiar burn in my quads and the freedom that comes with gliding. The tension I’ve carried for months eases. I’m grateful to be here, even though it’s not yet official.
This is my big comeback chance.
“Fletcher, let’s see you do a pirouette,” shouts Liam, our team captain, reformed grump, and apparently, the guy who has taken on my role as the team comedian.
I fire back, “Last I checked, figure skaters don’t do that move. They’re called spins. You have the wrong sport. You’re thinking ballet.”
He whizzes past me with a pair of prop elf ears attached tohis helmet for the Christmas charity match here at the Ice Palace, my home away from home. At least it used to be.
Liam hollers, “You’d know that, wouldn’t you? Just don’t bust your jaw again!”
The muscles there twitch as I reply, “I’ll do my best.”
After three weeks of playing with severe pain, Coach Badaszek caught wind of my collision with a microphone during karaoke night at the Fish Bowl, landing me with a visit to the team doctor. Now, nearly three months later, I’ll donate a kidney if it means playing again.
Suffice it to say, the redhead I took on a date claimed she was single. I do my best not to throw fists off the ice, but I would never have duetted “It Takes Two” with her if I had known she had a boyfriend. An angry one at that, as I did a stellar rockstar slide during the chorus and didn’t see him barreling toward me until it was too late.
He busted my jaw. Now he’s missing a couple of teeth. I’d say we’re even.
But Tom Badaszek doesn’t have patience for bluster and bravado. He takes injuries, whether sustained on or off the ice, seriously, so he put my butt in the proverbial penalty box until further notice. Staying out of the game is far more agonizing than what got me here.
“Glad to have you back,” says Mikey, our center, zooming past.
“I’m as good as new. Doc cleared me yesterday.”
Well, that’s a teeny-tiny, itty-bitty, elf-sized fib. The doctor actually said I healed beautifully but required at least another thirty days of rest before he reassessed, which I took more as a suggestion. I couldn’t miss the Ho Ho Hockey for Hope charity game.
I’m just hoping Santa isn’t watching. But Coach Badaszek is with shrewd eyes. Seriously, the two of them must be incahoots. Sometimes, it’s like he can read my mind. For instance, I’ll prepare a play in my head during a game and he’ll shake his head and then tell me what to do instead—Coach, not the jolly man in the red suit.
I hum “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” under my breath. The lyrics were definitely written with Badaszek in mind.
The bummer of it all is that Badaszek is right. Every time.
Except this one. I’ve warmed the bench long enough. I’m not missing the annual charity game, which pits Nebraska Knights players against Nebraska Knights players, with one anonymous wild card on each side. The guys picked me, so that part’s no secret, but our opposition could be anyone from an Olympian to a Hall of Famer to a figure skater.
Over the next sixty-plus minutes, I’m going to prove that I’m recovered and in fighting form.
I skate over to Mikey and Hayden, who are huddled by our bench, speculating about the composition of the opposing team. They’re on the front line like me.
“So, who’re we up against in the bracket this year?” I ask, tugging at my gloves.
Mikey grins. “They’ve got Jack and Redd up front, Robo in the box, plus Grady and Liam running defense.”
I arch an eyebrow. “That means their wild card is a right forward wing.” My position.
“There are only a few people they would’ve asked,” Mikey says.
“Neal,” the three of us chorus in unison. It has to be him.
Nostrils flared at this news, Hayden nods. “We have Pierre and Ted—you, our wild card defensemen—and Beau as our goaltender. We can handle Neal.”
