Page 23 of Snowed In With the PUCK

Before I can dig myself deeper into the awkwardness, Eric pulls me even closer, his warmth radiating through my jacket. The journalist doesn’t seem to notice my internal panic, though, because she’s beaming, clearly satisfied with her scoop. After a few more pleasantries, she wraps up her segment and turns back to her crew.

We walk to the car in silence, the cold Denver air biting at my skin despite Eric’s arm around me. My thoughts are racing, my heart pounding in my chest. Nashville? He couldn’t be serious.

As we slide into the car, I finally find my voice. “Nashville?” I ask, turning to him, my confusion more than a little obvious in my tone. “That was some quick thinking back there, but you know now we have to follow through on the trip, right?” I force out a laugh.

He laughs authentically, looking completely in control. It comes out as a deep, rich sound that fills the car with positivity. “What? You think I’d let you get away with not having any fun in this fake relationship? A little trip to Nashville will be good for us.” He grins.

I blink at him, still processing.Good for us? This was supposed to be temporary. Professional. Jason’s already asked me how thespying mission is going, but it’s not going, and I don’t know how to manage everyone’s expectations of me.

***

We land in Nashville two days later, the cool air greeting us as we step off the plane. It’s warmer here than in Denver, but there’s still a chill in the air. The kind that reminds you winter is just around the corner. The airport is decked out in holiday decorations—twinkling lights, festive wreaths, and Christmas trees standing proudly at every corner. I feel a sense of nostalgia as the holiday music plays softly overhead.

Jake and Allie, Eric’s closest friends, are waiting for us at the baggage claim. Jake is every bit the classic hockey player—tall, broad, with the kind of laid-back confidence that makes him instantly likable. Allie is equally charming, her smile warm and inviting as she pulls me into a hug.

“It’s so great to finally meet you!” Allie exclaims, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Eric’s told us so much about you.”

I glance at Eric, raising an eyebrow. He grins sheepishly, but doesn’t offer any explanation. I wonder how much of what he’s told them is part of ourfakestory, and how much is… well, real. It’s getting harder to tell the difference.

As we drive through Nashville, the city’s holiday spirit is on full display. Holiday signs and banners line the streets, and shop windows are filled with festive displays. It’s beautiful, almostmagical, and for a moment, I forget about the tangled mess of my “relationship” with Eric.

We arrive at the Nashville Christmas Market, an outdoor fair filled with vendors selling holiday treats, handmade gifts, and festive decorations. The air smells like cinnamon and pine, and the sounds of holiday music fill the atmosphere.

As we walk through the market, Jake and Eric fall into an easy conversation about hockey. I listen quietly, my curiosity piqued when Jake brings up Eric’s time in Nashville.

“Man, you didn’t deserve that trade,” Jake says, shaking his head. “The way it went down was messed up.”

I glance at Eric, who shrugs, trying to play it off. “It wasn’t that bad,” he says, though the tension in his voice tells me otherwise. “I’m settling in to my new team okay. I mean, without you around, ragging on me all the time to get my puck in the net every shot.”

The two laugh.

Jake doesn’t let it go. “It’s tough luck, Gator. Everyone on the team knows you didn’t start that fight. The media spun it out of control. You were just defending yourself.”

My heart skips a beat. I think of the reporter pushing her agenda on us just a couple of nights ago. I know how manipulative they can be. I’ve heard bits and pieces about the fight that led to the trade, but I never knew the full story beyond what my lawfirm cared about—the legalities of the contract that was ended in Nashville and the one started in Denver. Now, hearing Jake talk about that fight, I feel a pang of sympathy for Eric.

I sneak a glance at him, but he’s keeping his expression carefully neutral. I can tell this is something he doesn’t like talking about, but I’m starting to see just how much it bothers him.

“Yeah, well, it’s in the past now,” Eric says, clearly trying to change the subject. “I can’t turn back the clock and do things differently.” He shrugs.

But I can’t stop thinking about it. The more I learn about Eric, the more I realize how little I truly know about him. He’s been through a lot, and it’s clear that his time in Nashville left some scars—both on and off the ice.

I find myself growing more curious. Whatreallyhappened on that ice, beyond what his friends say?

That night, after a long day of exploring Nashville with Jake and Allie, I am alone in the guest room of their sprawling house. The home smells like cinnamon and sage and every common area is beautifully decorated for the holidays, with mini Santa figurines and nutcrackers in all the nooks and crannies, and green garlands adorning the walls. But despite the festive atmosphere, I turned in early because my mind is elsewhere.

I sit on the edge of the bed, my laptop open in front of me. I shouldn’t be doing this, I know that. I should just let it go. But the more I think about what Jake said earlier, the more I feel likeI need to know the truth. My firm cares about a fair trade and a redeemed image for Eric, but I care about him as a man… just as my roommate, of course.

I type “Eric Warren trade fight” into the search bar and hit enter. Before taking the job in Denver, I knew about this fight, of course. It was part of my research on Eric, but I never studied it. Now, I need to know.

Instantly, a flood of articles, videos, and news clips of “Gator” and some other player fill the screen. I scroll through them until I find what I’m looking for—the footage of the game.

My heart races as I click on the video, watching as the fight unfolds. The opposing player charges at Eric, shoving him against the boards. A few seconds later, the guy backs off and then uses his glove to cover his mouth as he taunts Eric, but no one knows what he said.

Then, I see the guy’s stick shoot out and whack Eric just above his skate. That’s when Eric shoves the guy and the fight breaks out. It was a nasty fight, though. I can see why Eric’s image was tarnished.

It’s clear to me that Eric was just defending himself, but the media had spun the story into something much darker. They painted Eric as the aggressor, as the problem, and now I’m starting to understand just how unfairly he was treated.

I sit back, staring at the screen, my mind racing. Eric didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to have his career tainted bya single moment; by a fight that wasn’t even his fault. It’s no wonder he’s been so guarded behind that easy smile of his.

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