Page 101 of The Hockey Grump Saves Christmas

Not only am I a grown twenty-eight-year-old man who’s too weak to be honest with his parents, I’m also too weak to look into Natalie’s eyes when I tell her I have to go.

Hurting her is bad enough.

But looking at her face while I do it is an intolerable idea.

I pull my phone back out of my pocket.

ME

Sorry, can’t make it tonight after all.

I’m an asshole.

I ignored the part about meeting her at the pond tomorrow because I’m not going to explain in a text that I’ll be back in New York.

Total asshole.

I drop my phone into the center console and turn the engine back on.

And in this moment I feel that crisp, crackling cloak of grumpiness and solitude that Natalie had ripped away wrap itself tightly around me again.

It’s comforting.

And welcoming.

This is what I know. This is how I know how to be.

I yank my seat belt back on, push the start button, put the car in gear, and swing it around to retreat back to exactly where I came from—my place as the fool on the hill.

CHAPTER 32

NATALIE

“Just a bit louder with the ‘Be mine,’” I call across the ice to Matteo. “And maybe add more of a flourish.” I fling my arms out, just in case Matteo doesn’t know what a flourish is.

“This is a good reminder for everyone,” I announce to the kids who’re on the ice and the others gathered at the side of the pond awaiting their entrance. “You have to speak up even more out here than you would in the theater because your voice gets lost a little in the open air.”

“What’s that, Miss Natalie?” Grayson says, cupping his hand around his ear.

“I said, your voices can get lost in the?—”

They all fall over laughing.

“Got me. Yes, nice one.”

Shit, I’m going to miss this lot.

“Let’s just run through the bit where all the townsfolk gather around to hear what the messenger’s come to say.” I look over my shoulder to see if there’s any sign Gabemight catch at least the end of the rehearsal. “It was a bit messy earlier with everyone too spread out, so let’s give it one more shot before we wrap up and go home for lunch.”

All the kids playing the townsfolk get back onto the ice and gather in the area we’ve designated the town square. During the performance there’ll be a fake fountain there that one of the parents has made from white plastic planters stacked on top of each other and spray-painted gray to resemble stone.

Man, I love this community.

“Okay, everybody ready to start pretending to be gossiping?” There are a few yesses, so I’ll go with that. “Aaand, away you go.”

Bless their hearts, they all silently chat with each other looking puzzled and pretending to be asking each other what on earth is all this business with Sir Percival and the mayor’s daughter.

“Do do-do-do!” Prema hops onto the pond, pretending to blow a bugle, and skates a perfect arc around the townsfolk. Her feet stay in contact with the ice as she corners, exactly like Gabe coached her.

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