Page 28 of The Hockey Grump Saves Christmas

“Does this mean there won’t be a party?” says another voice.

“Everything’s going to be just fine.” Her voice is calm and confident and as happy as can fucking be. “You know why?”

“Why?” All the kids shout together in that way only kids ever do.

“Because we have a new and extremely special helper.”

Oh no.

No.

I pick up the pace and am just about to round a lighting rig to the safety of the wings when she says, “Grayson, Matteo, Prema, you’re all hockey fans, aren’t you?”

Fuck.

“Well, look who’s going to help save our show. It’s Gabe Woods.”

I turn at the sound of my name the same way a deer turns to stare at the headlights of a car that’s about to hit it.

“He had the inspired idea of staging it on ice,” Natalie adds. “And he’s coming to the pond this afternoon to help us get started.”

The kids’ gasps echo in my ears as it dawns on me there’s no way out. They’ve seen me. She’s told them I’m helping. How can the famous athlete walk away from kids who need his help without being the grinchiest real-life Grinch that ever lived?

This was supposed to be the best Christmas ever. My first Christmas with no Christmas.

And it’s turned into the worst.

But Natalie just did exactly what I challenged her to do. She stood up for herself against me. She fucking brought it.

Game on, Bugs. Game on.

CHAPTER 10

NATALIE

It might be freezing out here, but it’s a small price to pay for this glorious afternoon at Turtle Pond.

I smack my gloved hands together. Despite being clothed in the handwear equivalent of a duvet, I can’t get my fingers warm.

The sky is the brightest, clearest blue. The snow around the pond and on the surrounding trees glistens in the sun. The needles of the lush evergreens are weighted down, while the bare branches and twigs of those waiting for spring have been transformed into sparkly wands. The white bandstand next to the pond looks adorable with lights wrapped around its uprights. The thick ice on the pond is magically dazzling, scattered with just a dusting of flakes from the flurry that came and went as we walked here from the theater and marked by the skates of those who’ve enjoyed it before us.

The forecast is good for the ice staying safe for the next couple of weeks. But I have a mental contingency to movethe play to the picnic area on the other side of the bandstand if we have an unexpected warm snap ahead of Christmas Eve.

Today, though, it’s perfect. Midafternoon on a Saturday it would usually be packed with families skating, but the Christmas art market starts today and that always draws the crowds, so we have it to ourselves for the time being.

And I can’t possibly care about the cold with all those smiles on the kids’ faces as they run in the snow around the pond, coming up with ideas of how to quickly adapt the play to make it work in this new setting.

Not all of them have been great—one kid suggested we introduce a yeti character, another that we should have the Titanic hitting an iceberg in the background, but let’s call this brainstorming.

The storm in my brain is most definitely still raging at Gabe Woods. I’ve never told anyone that I don’t like them, but now I’ve told him more than once—that’s how riled up he gets my insides.

But he deserved it for telling me I don’t stand up for myself enough and just do whatever makes other people happy. He made snap judgments that just happened to be correct. He doesn’t have enough to go on to know for sure. It’s not like he can see into my soul or anything.

Anyway, I showed him. There he was trying to sneak off before the hockey fans among the kids spotted him, and I outed him to them. It’s the most underhand thing I’ve ever done to anyone in my life, but he’d gotten my heart racing, the blood pumping through my veins, and I was all flustered, so he has only himself to blame.

The kids who recognized him were in total awe. Matteo stood there with his mouth wide open, eyes as big as hockey pucks, craning his neck to stare up at Gabe. Andlittle Abigail—at eight she’s not the youngest but is definitely the tiniest of the group—quietly came up onto the stage and asked to shake his hand because “it’s an honor to be in the company of such greatness.” She’s being raised by a single dad who I now assume is an Apollos fan. Her size in contrast to Gabe’s made it all the more adorable when he crouched down to shake her hand and thank her. I guess he can pretend to be nice if he has to.

And a couple of other kids peppered Gabe with questions about his injury and when he would be back. He gave polite if completely noncommittal answers. All while smiling an absurdly handsome half-smile through his stupid sexy beard and occasionally adjusting his hat with his huge sexy hands.

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