Page 23 of One Weekend in Vienna

“You,” I say without hesitation. The word feels heavier than I expect, but I don’t back down. “I want you, Anna. And not just for one weekend.”

She blinks, clearly not expecting that.

I blow out a frustrated stream of air, watching it curl into a cloud. “This isn’t nothing to me. Yeah, I’ve been lucky, in life,in my career, but I work for it, too. I’ve worked for everything I have and I’m not afraid to put in that work. I’m not afraid to take a chance and I’m not going to pretend that this weekend was just a fling.” I shake my head. “And don’t make assumptions about me,” I add, my voice softer now. “I’ve never felt this way before. Never wanted more than one night, with anyone. Until you.”

Her breath catches, and I see her defences start to crumble.

“Anna,” I say, taking her hands in mine. “I’m not perfect. Not even close. But I think we could have something pretty close to perfect, if we try it together.”

She stares at me, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I’m scared, Max,” she whispers.

“I know, sweetheart, me too. Your brother is a big son of a bitch.”

Anna gives a watery chuckle and I pull her in for a hug, kissing the top of her head. “I do like to win, you know.” I tighten my arms as she pushes against my chest in protest. “I’ll win him over too because I know how much you love him. And your happiness is important to me.”

She cuddles into me and my heart swells. “I do have to leave here tomorrow, but I’m begging you to try this with me. I’m willing to take the risk. Are you?”

She doesn’t answer right away, but then she tips her head back and rises up on the tips of her toes to press her lips to mine and I can taste the promise in her kiss.

12

ANNA

The hum of anticipation thrums through the arena like an electric current, rising to a crescendo as the clock ticks closer to game time. It’s the kind of energy you feel in your chest, as the music pulses, a loud backdrop to the air of excitement and camaraderie.

Fans decked out in festive sweaters, blinking Christmas lights, and oversized Santa hats fill the stands, their laughter and chatter a cheerful backdrop to the ice's cool sheen under the arena lights. The scents of popcorn, beer and pizza drift around me, and I’m glad I ate before arriving at the arena.

I’m in the front row, right up against the glass, and the faint chill seeps through to my legs. I tug my coat tighter around me, watching as players skate sharply across the ice, stretching their muscles during the warm-up. The sound of blades carving into the surface and pucks clanging against the boards creates a rhythmic symphony of hockey chaos.

Felix is out there, focused as always, his movements sharp and precise. He passes a puck to a teammate, his stick slicing cleanly through the air, and then glances briefly in my direction. I wave, and he skates over the glass, checking out the row. People are still filing in and some of the seats around me are empty, but the arena is filling up fast. He gives me a short nod before skating back to his teammates. A couple more of the guys give me a wave as they skate past, and I smile.

The seat next to me remains conspicuously empty. It’s strange since the game was sold out weeks ago, and I know Felix’s team doesn’t skimp on their ticket giveaways. He told me these tickets had been set aside for him and I thought one of our cousins would be joining me as we decided to try and get together for the holidays this year. I glance around, half-expecting someone to show up late, but the spot remains vacant through warm-ups and the national anthem. Maybe someone couldn’t make it at the last minute.

The hockey horn sounds, signaling the start of the game, and the arena erupts into a frenzy. Fans leap to their feet as the puck drops, the noise a deafening roar that shakes the glass. Felix's team dominates early, their quick passes and aggressive forechecks putting pressure on the opposing defense. The energy is infectious, and I find myself screaming wildly along with the crowd as Felix drives a breakaway past three defensemen to score the first goal.

By the end of the first period, the score is tied, and I take a moment to soak in the atmosphere as the players exit to the dressing rooms. The festive outfits, the booming announcer's voice, the smell of popcorn wafting through the air—it’s all so quintessentially hockey, and I definitely missed this. Watching the game online in Vienna, even wrapped in my cozy blanket, can’t compete with this.

And then the commotion starts.

It ripples through the crowd like a wave—laughter, cheers, and a few gasps of recognition. People begin pointing toward my section, and I sit up straighter, craning my neck to see what’s causing the fuss. The guy behind me moves and suddenly I can see Felix’s team mascot —a strange mash-up between a polar bear and a moose, affectionately called Boosey, probably because a bunch of drunk guys named him—bounding down the steps. He’s waving his oversized arms dramatically, his moose antlers shaking, playing up the crowd as he approaches. A shadow falls over me. Oh no. What in the world has Felix done now?

Boosey stops right in front of me and gestures with a paw, pointing back up the steps. I turn and blink in disbelief, just as the announcer shouts to the crowd that a special guest has arrived.

Boosey starts jumping up and down, holding out the hem of his jersey and flashing a giant thumbs up.

Max.

My stomach flips. He’s sauntering down the steps with that infuriatingly confident grin, wearing—of all things—a Felix Jäger jersey. The team logo stretches across his broad chest, the fabric hugging his shoulders in a way that should be illegal. Fans are stopping him on the stairs, getting their photo taken with him, slapping him on the back and cheering. Max’s feud with my brother is the stuff of hockey legend and a few people boo him, until he turns and points his thumbs over his shoulders to show off the number eighteen and ‘Jäger’ displayed on his back. Boosey runs back up the steps and raises his arm with Max’s like he’s just won a boxing match, before pulling him down to where I’m seated, my jaw on the floor.

“What are you doing here?” I blurt as he slides into the seat next to me, the empty space suddenly feeling a hundred times smaller with all eyes on us thanks to the jumbotron.

Max stretches out his legs, like he’s settling in to watch the game. “Thought I’d take in the local hockey scene,” he says.

My heads tilts in disbelief. “Really? I thought I wouldn’t see you until after Christmas.”

Max straightens and leans in, his voice low, “I couldn’t wait that long.”

I arch an eyebrow. “And what is this spectacle?” I gesture to his jersey.

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