Page 1 of Snowed In With the PUCK

Chapter one

Eric

The air smells likesnow. Cold and crisp, invigorating my senses. It reminds me of being on the ice in the rink, with all the fans shouting my NHL nickname: Gator. A pang of regret fills me. I’ll never set foot in the Nashville Eagles arena as their hockey player again.

I shove that thought away for the hundredth time. Despite doing my best, I found myself far from my friends and the camaraderie of the on-ice team I cherish. This will be the first Christmas in six years that I’m not in Nashville. It hurts.

I can’t quite explain it, but the cold that bites my nose after I turn off the car and the way the clouds hang low over the mountains makes everything seem better. And right now, I need every bit of a boost that I can find.

I pull the zipper of my jacket up to my chin as I step out of the rental car, breathing in the sharp mountain air. Nashville never felt like this, not even close. Back there, winter means gray skies and chilly rain. Here, in the Colorado mountains, the cold feels alive, clean, and ready to turn everything snowy white.

“Here goes nothing,” I say as I stretch to my full height, surveying the land, the driveway, the trees, and the place I’ll be staying until I buy my own.

The house in front of me is massive, with wooden beams and enormous windows tucked into the trees on the side of the mountain. The kind of place that should feel cozy, maybe even a little magical this close to Christmas. But I can’t fully push away the feeling that I don’t belong here. Hell, I’m not even sure I belong on the NHL team, the Colorado Avalanche. Traded out of Nashville and off the Eagles in the middle of the season like I’m some damaged goods they didn’t want anymore? That’s going to take some getting used to. Now I’m in Denver, no place to call home, just this loaner house from Bill Stanton, the team’s coach.

I take a deep breath and grab my duffel bag from the trunk. The house is supposed to be empty. Just me and a five-bedroom glamorous and upscale cabin for now, at least until I figure out something more permanent. “No rush,” Bill had said when he offered the place. But I know better. The pressure’s on. I need to prove myself all over again, and I can’t screw up this time. I learned in Nashville, even aperceivedscrew up is a career changer.

The front door feels heavy and solid as I push it open. I step inside, blinking against the warmth. It smells like pine andcinnamon here, like someone was just baking something in a kitchen I haven’t even seen yet. The lights are dim, casting a golden glow on the wooden floors and walls. Cozy, definitely. The kind of place I’d have loved as a kid.

I send Coach Bill a text thanking him again and promising to stop by the arena for the team practice the next day. He sends me a thumbs up and that’s that.

“Well, I guess it’s me, myself, and I for tonight.”

I drop my bag near the stairs and shrug off my jacket, tossing it over the banister. As I wander through the house, I notice some perks that my hockey-playing bod will appreciate. A sauna room in the basement. A built-in jacuzzi and a reasonably well-stocked workout room. I guess Coach redid this place with fitness or ski enthusiasts in mind. The walk-out basement is pristine, and I smile as I push open the double doors leading to a stunning view of the mountain.

“Paradise,” I say, feeling more relaxed.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I glance at the screen—Jake. The team captain and my fellow NHL hockey player from Nashville. He has never failed to have my back, no matter what I faced back on the Eagles. I hit answer, pressing the phone to my ear as I wander upstairs toward the kitchen.

“Hey, man,” I say, flipping on the light. I’m met with big granite counters, double ovens, all that fancy stuff. Definitely more than I need.

“Eric. How’s Denver treating you so far? Already causing trouble, I bet.”

I let out a small laugh, though it’s more of a huff. “Haven’t seen much of it yet. Just got here. The house is massive. Big enough for a missus and two kids.”

I recoil at my own words. Since when was I even considering a relationship? I must be losing my mind.

“You’re up in that mountain place your new coach owns, right?”

New coach. I grab an apple from the counter’s display bowl. It’s fresh and crisp. New coach and new team. I better start getting pumped about it. I can’t go out onto the ice without believing in this team and still expect to win games.

I smirk. “Well, that’s confidential information now, isn’t it. Since we’re rivals.”

Jake laughs. “If you think I’m going to go easy on you out on the ice just ‘cause you’ve been one of the best NHL forwards on my team, you’re dead wrong there, buddy.”

“Noted. But yeah, the digs are cool. I’m in the boonies, so the hike to get to the arena is going to be a big-time sink. But Bill—coach—is doing me a favor until I get settled.”

“Time sink, huh? That’s rich coming from a single guy with nothing but time on his hands outside the game and the ice!”

Jake married the love of his life, Allie, last year, so I can imagine he still remembers the days when we would literally talk on the phone while in our separate houses watching a football game, just so it didn’t feel like we were alone.

I have the urge to thank him for being such a good friend, but I don’t. He knows he’s appreciated. And that’s enough for me. I lean against the counter, staring out the window into the darkness. The wind’s picking up outside, pushing the trees around like they’re bending under its weight.

Jake’s voice drops, quieter. “You doing okay, man?”

I know what he means. The trade out of Nashville wasn’t exactly the best part of my career. They blamed me for that whole mess on and off the ice, and I’ve been carrying it largely without support, except for Jake.

“I’m getting there,” I tell him, which is a half-truth. “Just need some time.”

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