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Her excitement. Her hundred questions. Her face if Ottawa becomes one more organization that praises me right up until they choose somebody else.

I've carried that disappointment home to my family too many times. I've seen the pain that failing to deliver on that hope brings.

I'm not handing it to her too.

"Nothing's real yet," I say. "He watched the game. That's all I know."

She hums as I feed her another strawberry.

"Remember tomorrow we have the formal team photo shoot before the sponsor dinner. Attendance mandatory. Clothing mandatory. Smiling mandatory."

"Is smiling actually in my contract?"

"I'll personally ensure your mouth receives appropriate motivation."

She laughs and pulls my jersey back over her head, and I watch her and feel three futures tightening around me at once.

Audrey disappears into the changing room, leaving me alone with my phone and the realization that I want to give her something that belongs entirely to this new life.

I message Darcy Madden about the private alpine cabin I heard her discussing with a guest the other day, then ask whether the resort can arrange a sleigh after tomorrow’s sponsor dinner.

Her answer arrives thirty seconds later.

Darcy: Only if you promise to make it ridiculously romantic.

I look toward the changing-room door.

Me: That’s the plan.

Chapter 14

Audrey

The Wildcards' formal photo shoot looks like Santa's workshop got a corporate sponsorship deal at the luxurious Mistletoe Resort.

The event team, led by Darcy Madden, has transformed a ballroom into a staged winter lodge, with red velvet chairs arranged before a stone fireplace, mountains of wrapped gifts stacked in white and gold, and glowing lanterns hanging from timber beams while artificial snow drifts from a machine somewhere above us.

There's enough mistletoe strung across the ceiling that if everyone started honoring tradition, this photo shoot would escalate into some kind of Santa orgy within minutes.

I stay safely behind the camera line, which is a full-time job.

The formal photo shoot is compulsory for every team in the tournament.

The photographs will appear in programs, advertisements and across the resort’s social-media pages. According to Darcy, they are also meant to capture each team’s 'distinctive festive personality.'

The Calgary roster broke two decorative sleighs attempting to fit six defensemen inside one photograph. A team from New York accidentally fired an artificial snow cannon into their coach’s face. And I just overheard Darcy saying yesterday’s photo shoot ended when two defensemen discovered the wrapped gifts were empty and attempted to climb inside them.

So now my only objective is getting the Wildcards through the afternoon without nudity, property damage or Colin suggesting a human pyramid.

I have already failed on one count.

"Colin, put the pose chart down."

"I'm just saying," Colin Holden says, holding a laminated diagram of a human pyramid, "in Beachside we do a beach formation for these kind of team shots. Everyone is shirtless, and we arrange them by the quality of their tan—"

The photographer, a patient woman named Iris, is losing a war against every stubborn hockey player standing in front of us. Aidan keeps drifting toward the exit like a large dark iceberg. Nate has attempted three escapes himself, all foiled by Eden gripping his sleeve. And Dylan has appeared in the background of at least nine photographs, despite insisting he's not on the roster in the first place.

And then there's Miles.