Page 29 of Penalties and Proposals

Giving him a tiny salute, I start my way back. Behind me, Zach calls out, “And, Noah? Have fun tonight. It’s the first game—it’s all about you guys and the ice, that’s it. It’s a walk in the park for pros like you.”

As I make my way down the tunnel, the smell of sweat and shower gel beginning to assault my senses, I can’t help but grin. Coaching Charlie and the other kids would be such a challenge, and something I’ve not done before. Both of these are things that make my heart beat a little faster … kind of like thoughts of a certain photographer do.

As Willa pops into my mind, the first thing I think is that I need to talk to her about this, get her opinion. Which is also surprising, as surprising as being asked to lead a hockey camp. Shaking my head, I’m beginning to realize that this whole trip to Washington has been one surprise after another, from realizing that I’m on a better path, and that those around me see it, to the insanely gorgeous woman who lets me kiss her.

Those kisses. Willa’s lips are forever tattooed in my memory ever since that first kiss after dinner with the Arnolds. I mean, it’s been a week and a half since then, or thereabouts, I don’t know. Time has no meaning for me at the moment. I’m here, and so is Willa, and we’ve been participating in this experimental make-out bubble in Maple Falls forever as far as I’m concerned.

One where we meet for coffee some mornings before I go to practice and she heads off to do her work, and then if I’m lucky—really lucky—she allows me to spend time with her in the evenings. Whether it’s dinner or sitting with her and talking as she’s editing her photos or finding a way to sneak a kiss in. But the nights always end with her leaving or pointing me toward the door and shoving me out of it. If I’m lucky, I’ll get that to change one day, too, but I’m in no hurry. I want to savor each moment I have with her.

The thought of Willa sitting across from me and sipping on ahot tea while we talk about this offer makes me ridiculously giddy. Like life is about to come full circle in its own crazy way.

But, I also know that sometimes life has other plans and likes to play tricks on us.

Doesn’t it?

CHAPTER 12

WILLA

There’sa loud thud outside my hotel room door. I know what it is, but I don’t want to look. Steeling myself, I open the door and my eyes quickly find the local newspaper on the floor at my feet, bundled and waiting to be read.

I have no real desire to read it, I don’t have to. I was there last night. I’ve still got that Vanilla Ice song “Ice Ice Baby” stuck in my head on repeat—and I’d love to know who pickedthatas their team anthem.

The last thing I need to see is the photo I took. I used to get excited when I’d see a photo I’d taken in a paper, no matter how big its readership, but this time it feels empty. The image I snapped shows a sea of people wearing the number 29 jersey, for local hero Dan Roberts, and all looking as defeated as the Ice Breakers when the game was lost 2–1.

One of the Lumberjacks had shot the puck into the goal, and it slipped past Dawson, not that there wasn’t any effort on his part. There was time on the buzzer, and Noah managed to get the puck and make a good try to get the shot in on the opposite team, but the horn had blared and signaled the end of the period, and the end of the game, only too soon.

Even the after-game media Q&A was somber, at least for theIce Breakers. Coach Strickland and Dan had fronted the press, and I’d managed a few quick snaps of them to send off toAthletic Edgeand other publications so they could at least have some content for their social channels today.

When I’d found Noah last night, his face was clouded over; he wasn’t down in the dumps, just bummed. And tired—but luckily not tired enough to not ask me out for breakfast this morning.

The sound of my phone ringing pulls my attention away from picking out my “what to wear to brunch to hang out with the hot ice hockey guy I used to hate” outfit. Has to be a thing, right?

“Hello,” I sing, without even glancing at the screen.

“Sweetie, you sound chipper,” Mom begins. “Things must be going well?”

I quickly fill her in on the turn of events I’ve had with Noah. When she doesn’t say a word for a full thirty seconds after I’m done, I know she’s as shocked as I am.

“Things can turn on a dime, can’t they?” She snickers in my ear. “And you kissed him? Multiple kissing times?”

“Mom,” I groan. “Yes, but not the point, nor is it up for discussion. He’s nice. Kind, in fact. Intelligent and has motivation to do more with himself. I don’t know. I’m taking it day by day, or trying to. Having fun and seeing where this goes.”

“Considering what happened in the past—” she starts, but I quickly interject.

“Like us, he’s had his own demons to wrangle. He just did it more publicly and with more booze than was prudent.”

She takes a breath, letting it out slowly in my ear. “Fine. I’ll be happy for you, but if he does anything to screw up or hurt you, I’ll be more than happy to leak it to one of those newspapers or bloggers or influencers or whatever it is you work with. Gossip is still gossip.”

Shaking my head, I refuse to even be mad at her ideas. She’s my mom, of course she’s going to be protective. “Thank you, I’llhold you to it. Now, I know you’re not calling just to say hi, are you?”

“I’m not. I’ve had a visit from the bank, and I don’t have good news, sweetie.” Her voice sounds tight, so I sit on the edge of my bed. “They’ve begun foreclosure proceedings, in West Virginia this can take ninety days. The bank has given me options—from selling the house back to them, to filing for Chapter 11, which would lead to filing Chapter 7 bankruptcy, or to pay off the loan.”

“I knew you were behind in payments,” I say gently, “but to be in foreclosure they must have told you that you were in pre-foreclosure, no?”

“They did, and I didn’t say anything. I chose not to.” Her voice hitches. “I don’t want to worry you, but I wanted you in the loop. Since the bank president knew your dad, they’ve given me another option where I can catch up on payments and pay six months ahead. He feels it will give me time to figure out what I can do without ruining my credit and running the business into the ground.”

“Whoa.” I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach, then sideswiped by a tractor-trailer; I can only imagine how she must be feeling. This was my parents’ dream that became their livelihood. Life hasn’t been easy, but in the past year, business had picked up. “Do you know what you want to do?”

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