Page 95 of It's Mother-Pucking Christmas!

I could hear Coach Kowalski hollering and cursing from the stands and Dakota and her family cheering, but it was all filtered through frosted wool.

All I focused on was the puck, the ice, the game.

These players on the Direwolves? Best of the best.

Sure, the Boston NHL team we played against was a machine.

But we were better.

Philly scored the first goal and the second, with an assist from me. I got the third.

We kept the puck near the other team’s goal as much as we could, tangling with the defensemen on more than one occasion. It wasn’t enough for them to break our lead.

“All right, College Boy,” Philly said when I scored a goal right before the final whistle blew. The fans went crazy at our first win of the season. “I see why they pay you the big bucks.”

“Shit, this is going to be an easy season if he keeps playing like that,” Schneider said, grinning as we skated a victory lap.

“You hardly had to work,” Philly joked.

The Direwolves manager and team owner, a brown-haired man with green eyes who looked about my age, shook my hand, congratulating me and then the rest of the team.

“Must be nice to have the money to own your very own hockey team,” Philly said to me, nodding to the suits.

“I think I’d rather be taking pucks to the face than have to sit in a box in an itchy suit all game.” I tugged off my skates.

“At least he’s young and can enjoy all his money.”

“No one told you to buy that motorcycle and then crash it into the river,” Schneider said to McCallahan, incredulous.

After doing the required interviews—alone, with the coach, with other players, with the managers—we stood there awkwardly next to management for photos.

I was finally able to escape the locker room to where Dakota and the rest of her family waited, along with my old Icebreakers teammates and the seniors.

I grinned when they cheered. I was immediately enveloped in the crush of people.

“Are you Ryder’s new friends?” Dakota’s mom greeted my new teammates. “Come to dinner. You boys need food after a game like that. Also”—she lowered her voice—“I have several sisters who have terrible decision-making skills when they’ve been drinking. You might get a happy ending out of this.”

“What the fuck?”Philly mouthed to me as the mass of Dakota’s loud family practically carried us along out into the evening and to a nearby restaurant.

“Dakota,” I said, finally able to push my way next to her. I kissed her. Though a big family was everything I’d always wanted, a part of me did want to just take her back to our bed. Alone.

“Sorry about Dasher.” She wrinkled her nose. “I shouldn’t have brought him. But he made that sad face.”

“He hasn’t got the hang of New York apartment living,” I joked.

Dakota had tried to bribe all her neighbors in her building to not complain about Dasher.

Fortunately, many of the units were investment properties, and no one lived there. But still. Dasher was loud. And seemed to be afraid we were going to leave him and never come back.

“He’s used to coming to practice with me.”

“You’re going to have to stay home next game,” Dakota said to the dog, who was glued to my side.

“No, he’s not. See?” Violet said, showing me her phone. “All your fans loved it. People are buying New York Direwolves merch left and right. The video’s viral. All over. It’s all over the sports and mainstream news. They want you on Jimmy Fallon.I just got a call from Nike asking to feature you and Dasher in a commercial. Also there’s this pet food company that wants to do a campaign. I told them to make us a good offer.” She snapped her gum, clicking her long nails on the phone.

“Dasher can’t come to the next game. He can’t handle himself,” Dakota said.

“He’s coming. The Direwolves owner already texted me and decreed it. He also asked me out on a date. I said no. I don’t shit where I eat.”

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