“Why aren’tyoumad at me for how I treated him in October?”
“I am,” I say honestly. “But I need you. I need this hockey team to be successful, and you’re going to be a huge part of that.”
“Why is this hockey team such a big thing? Rebel really hasnothing elsegoing on?”
“We have a lot going on!” I protest. “We have gardening club, and art club, and walking club, and otter club, and?—”
“Otter club? Like the animal?”
“Yes.”
“Come on.”
“Otter club,” I emphasize. “And movie nights, and picnics, and festivals, and holiday celebrations, and camps for the kids. We have atongoing on.” It’s my entire job to be sure things are going on.
Do I go overboard sometimes? Maybe. Do I take my jobveryseriously? Absolutely. I love my hometown and I will always do whatever I can to make it a fun, inclusive, happy place. So do we have the best Parks and Rec department and programs in the entire state? Damn right.
“But hockey is super important?” Alex asks.
“Well, yeah. Surelyyouunderstand that.” I’m chewing on my bottom lip again.
“I think hockey is the only important thing in the entire world,” he admits. “But I’m biased, and my worldview is very narrow.”
I look over. That was surprisingly self-deprecating.
“But I think there’s more to it for you and your town,” he says.
I blow out a breath. I’ll tell him whatever he needs to know to get him on board. “Fine. Harley got C.W. to build the arena and was the one who got the team to come to town and…it’s his first and only failure.” I feel my throat tighten. “I know that sounds hyperbolic, but it’s true. Harley has always done right by the town, and for this to be a failure, on top of his stroke, and losing the election…it would just be too much.”
Alex is quiet for several seconds. “Who’s C.W.?”
“He was Harley’s son, my uncle. He passed away a few years ago. He went off and got rich and then came back and spent the money on Rebel. He owned like half the town. He left it all to my cousin, Dane. But Dane doesn’t want to own half the town, and if someone would like to buy some—or all—of the properties, Dane would be thrilled.” I look at Alex again. “Wehaveto make this hockey team work. We need hockey and that ice arena to stay. We need the team to be a success. And Harley needs to win the election.”
“Because you love Harley or because you hate Sean Patrick?”
I meet his gaze directly. “Because of the town. They need Harley.” I pause, then add, “Making Sean Patrick’s return home a dismal failure would just be the sprinkles on top.”
“Got it.”
We drive past the Welcome to Rebel sign on the edge of town and head down Main Street. We pass the main intersection, and Alex pivots quickly in his seat.
“Is that a statue of anotter?”
“Yeah.” The twenty-foot-tall stone otter on her back legs, front paws folded, a sweet almost-smile on her face, is impossible to miss. As intended.
Alex turns back to me. “Why?”
“Trust me, you’ll hear the story eventually. But otters are…a thing…here.”
“Oh.” He clearly isn’t sure how to respond.
That’s fair.
Two minutes later, I pull up at the curb in front of Alex Olsen’s new address.
“Welcome home,” I say, shifting into park. “Your apartment is on the second floor.”
He looks at the building. “Perksand Rec?
