Page 105 of Holiday Hostilities

She lays a hand on my arm, and her touch calms me a little. “I’ll help.”

Upstairs, in the guest room Nonna is staying in, Olivia blinks as she takes in the cacophony of crochet animals lining the shelves. “This is…”

“Weird,” I finish for her with a little smile.

“I was going to go with impressive, but weird works, too.”

“It’s my hockey tradition. More of a superstition, I guess.”

She surprises me by nodding. “I remember the story—Aaron Marino had the game of his life after crocheting with his Nonna one day, and it’s been his pregame-ritual ever since,” she singsongs.

I balk at her.

Olivia mimes buffing her nails on her shirt, eyes twinkling. “What can I say? I remember some things about you too, Aaron Marino.” She reaches out to touch the nose of the little red fox I was crocheting on Thanksgiving. “These are pretty awesome, actually. I bet the kids love getting them.”

She turns to look me dead in the eye, and for a moment, I get the distinct impression that she sees me.Reallysees me.

Not the hockey captain, not the supposed playboy, not the guy who has used humor and banter to get her attention for as long as I can remember.

But me.Aaron.

I feel almost vulnerable in a way that I’m not used to as she walks over and wraps her hand around my wrist, her fingers grazing my bracelet. “You don’t strike me as a particularly superstitious guy. In fact, if this bracelet is any indication, I’d say you’re more secretly sentimental than superstitious.”

“You might be right,” I admit. “Crocheting before games, moving my hands, stops my thoughts from racing. Helps me feel calm and focused.”

“Focused on the game?”

I frown at my bracelet. “Yeah. And focused on not letting anyone down.”

“Who could you possibly be letting down?”

“My teammates. My coach. My old captain. My family. My dad’s memory.” I pause. Exhale. “You.”

She blinks. “Me?”

“Yeah, you,” I reply. “I’ve inadvertently dragged you into all this Brandi B.S., and now, she’s coming after you.”

“That’s not your fault. You’re not responsible for other people’s behavior.”

“I know, but I am responsible for the people I care about.” I bite down on my lip. “My family worked so hard to get me to where I am, and my teammates and Coach Torres have put all their trust in me this season. I’m scared of screwing it up.”

“I think you’re carrying the weight of other people’s expectations, and it’s a weight you don’t need to bear.” Olivia shakes her head. “You’ve clearly worked hard to get here, Aaron, and there’s a reason people have chosen to place their trust in you. Do you not see how much you deserve this?”

I know I’ve worked my ass off, and I’m endlessly grateful for my career. So much so that I feel stupid even thinking any of this, but sometimes I don’t feel worthy of being where I am and get convinced that I’ll never live up to my own hype.

Imposter syndrome,I think it’s called. I googled it once, and it resonated with me. The stress of being in the spotlight. The huge shoes Malachi left for me to fill as captain. Fulfilling my dad’s goals for me and making his memory proud.

“I just want to be someone that people can believe in.”

It’s the first time I’ve ever said this aloud, and for a moment, I want to take the words back and paint on a teasing expression. Be strong for her, instead of admitting my weaknesses.

But Olivia steps forward and wraps her arms around my neck. Tugs on the back of my head until I’m looking at her.

She smiles and she’s so achingly beautiful, I can hardly stand it. “I believe in you, Aaron.”

When she says it, I almost believe it, too.

42

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