Page 29 of Snowed In With the PUCK

I nod, catching my breath, feeling the adrenaline surge. “Damn right we are. We play like this, and there’s no way we’re losing.”

I skate back to the bench for a quick break, leaning on my stick as the guys keep running through drills. It feels good to be part of a team again, to be relied on as the leader of my line. But as much as I try to stay in the moment, my thoughts keep drifting back to what I heard earlier. I wonder what Jason meant. If Jessica’s in on something I don’t know about, I need to figure it out.

“Warren!” I hear a shout from Coach Bill, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Get back out there!”

I nod, skating over to start the next drill. No time for distractions.

“Let’s run that power play again,” I say to the guys, getting back into formation. “I want to see clean transitions from defense to offense, and quick puck movement.”

We run through the power play like a well-oiled machine, moving the puck around the perimeter, then cutting to the net for a shot. It feels good to see it come together, to feel like we’re a unit out here. That’s the thing about hockey—when you’re in sync with your team, anything is possible.

By the time practice winds down, I’m drenched in sweat, but I feel lighter, more centered. There’s nothing like working through shit on the ice. But as I hit the showers and pull off my gear, the weight of that conversation starts creeping back in. I have a sinking feeling that sooner or later I’m going to have to talk to her about it. Why can’t anything just be easy for me on and off the ice?

***

By the time I get back to the house, it’s late, and the excitement of the game has worn off, leaving me feeling hollow. Jessica’s asleep on the couch, the glow from the Christmas tree casting soft shadows over her face. I stand there for a minute, just watching her, the warmth of the holidays making me nostalgic.

I don’t know what it is about this time of year, but it always pulls me back to the past. Usually it’s been in a bad way, but with her I feel the sadness a little less. Maybe it’s the decorations, the lights, or just the way everything feels a little softer, a little more sentimental with her nearby. Or maybe it’s that damn photo album, the one with the picture of my mom and that note scrawled on the back.

The note that could change everything.

I grab a beer from the fridge and sit down at the kitchen table, my mind feeling jumpy and disorganized. I’ve been putting this off for too long, and after hearing what I heard today, I need answers. Not just about Jessica and whatever deal she’s got going on with Jason, but about my own past. About my mom.

I don’t even know where to start. I was told my parents died when I was five, but that note… it doesn’t add up. There was a date, a location. It was from when I was still a kid. If my mom really was alive then, why didn’t anyone tell me?

Jessica stirs on the couch, blinking awake as she stretches and glances over at me.

“Hey,” she says, her voice groggy. “You’re back. How was the game?”

“We won,” I say, trying to keep my tone light, but I can’t hide the edge in my voice. She senses it immediately, sitting up and pulling the blanket around her shoulders.

“You okay?”

I let out a slow breath, running a hand through my hair. “I’ve been thinking… about that photo I showed you, the one of my mom. There’s a date and a place on the back of it, and I can’t stop wondering if she’s still alive.” I say it bluntly, knowing it sounds nuts.

Jessica’s eyes widen, and she leans forward, clearly caught off guard. “Wait… what? You think your mom could still be alive?”

I nod, the weight of my suspicion settling heavily in my chest. “I don’t know. But I have to find out. I’ve been putting it off, trying to ignore it, but I think it’s time to start looking into it.”

Jessica’s quiet for a moment, her brows furrowed in thought. Then she looks up at me, her expression softening. “I can help. I mean, if you want me to. We could start by looking into your grandparents. Maybe they were hiding something for a reason. If they didn’t tell you about your mom, there has to be more to the story.”

I nod, feeling a strange rush of relief and apprehension. Part of me wants to dive headfirst into this, to finally get some answers.But another part of me is terrified of what I might find. Still, I can’t keep living in the dark.

“Yeah,” I say, my voice quiet. “I think that’s a good idea.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel like I’m not alone in this. Jessica’s here, offering to help me, and that means more than I can say. I trust her, and I tell her as much.

“I’m glad I can trust you,” I say, meeting her eyes.

But something flickers across her face—something quick and almost unnoticeable. It’s gone before I can even process it, replaced by a warm smile. I push the momentary doubt away, chalking it up to my own paranoia. There’s no reasonnotto trust her. Not after… everything.

Right?

I finish my beer and we start talking about how to begin this search, brainstorming ideas about digging into old records, tracking down any clues we can find. It feels good, like we’re working toward something real, something important. But I can’t dismiss the feeling that there’s more going on beneath the surface—both with my past and with Jessica.

I just hope I’m not making a mistake.

Chapter fourteen

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