Page 34 of The Christmas You Crash

All our talk about Christmas traditions earlier made me want to do something to bring a little magic back into the holidays for Lexi. I don’t know too much about Coach’s divorce, but the guys say he was a raging beast last season. Supposedly, he’s not quite as bad this year, but he’s still grumpier than normal. I’d guess it’s been at least a few years since Lexi’s had a Christmas she can look back on fondly.

I’m determined to change that.

“It’s so beautiful,” she says breathlessly. “It was hard to enjoy the snow when it was the reason I was freezing my ass off, but now that the power’s back on, I feel much more benevolent.”

She sighs as we push through the deep drifts, but it’s a happy sigh. Her high cheekbones are flushed pink from the wind nipping at them, her green eyes sparkle in the bright wintery light bouncing off the snow, and her lips part just enough to let little puffs of mist swirl around her face as her warm breath meets the icy air. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I admit. Though I’m not talking about the snow.

Lexi glances my way, and the flush of her cheeks deepens when she catches my meaning. “You sure you should be chopping anything with your bum hand? I can do it, you know.”

She could, too, but I also know she’s sore from cutting all that firewood. She keeps rolling her shoulders when she doesn’t think I’m looking.

“I think I can handle it. But I promise I’ll tell you if it starts to hurt.”

“Does it bother you?” she asks, her attention dipping to my gloved hand. Those pretty lips of hers pull into a grimace as she looks back up at me. “Especially after I threw that wine bottle at you?”

I shake my head. “Nah. I’m good. I promise.”

She hums but doesn’t fight me about it. “Do you get into a lot of fights on the ice?”

Fighting is a part of hockey. I’ve gotten into my fair share of brawls, but I don’t actively seek them out like some guys do. For some reason, I always picture my mom when a fight breaks out. She has that look on her face that she’d give me when I was a kid and getting into trouble. “Not really. I won’t back down if someone else starts one, but I don’t go around picking fights on the ice.”

That seems to be the right answer, because Lexi grimaces again. “Good. I can’t stand guys who go around starting fights because they think it makes them look cool.”

The tone of her voice tells me there’s a story here. “Know someone like that?”

“Yeah,” she scoffs. “My ex.”

Her ex? Alexis Cross dated a hockey player? Well, shit. Didn’t see that one coming. “Oh? Did you date someone on your dad’s team?”

“What? God, no.”

Ouch.

“My college boyfriend. He loved to start fights. I think it’s because it made all the girls drool over him.”

He sounds like a winner.

“Does he still play?” I want to know who this guy is. Because if he plays pro hockey, that means I may have the chance to check his ass into the boards for getting to touch Lexi. And for being a dick of a boyfriend, if her tone is anything to go by.

She smirks. “Not that I know of. Not for lack of trying on his part. He thought he was hot shit when we were dating, but he never put in the work he would have needed to go pro.”

“Lazy?”

“Entitled. He thought he could get into the NHL with his good looks, social media presence, and connections.” The emphasis she puts on the wordconnectionshas me bristling. I’m not sure I’ll like where this is going.

“Did he know people in the NHL?” I ask casually.

“Yeah,” she says bitterly. “My dad.”

Damn. That was what I was afraid she’d say. I want to ask her to tell me more, but I remain silent. Maybe if I don’t say anything, she’ll keep talking.

Lexi sighs. “Turns out, Garrett was more into my dad than me, and when that relationship didn’t work out the way he’d hoped, there wasn’t much reason to stick it out with me.”

“I’m sorry, OTG,” I say, reaching out to grab her hand. “He’s an idiot.”

“I don’t know. Pretty sure I was the idiot in that scenario. After all, I was the one who thought he was interested in me, not my dad. Should have seen it coming from a mile away.” Lexi squeezes my hand before dropping it, her tone growing brighter, even if it’s forced. “But enough about Garret, the ass. I want to know how many times you’ve been injured. You guys really get beat up out there.”

“I’ve been pretty lucky,” I tell her. “I never sustained any serious injuries when I was a kid or during college. A few sprains and bruises, like everyone else, but nothing too bad. This is my most serious injury. Which sucks, because I had a great start to the season before this. Now I’m worried I’ll go back and have lost my mojo.”

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