Page 15 of Taming the Grumpy Hockey Player

Thanks for the talk today. I appreciate it.

Simple, but it leaves my heart doing a strange little flip in my chest. I type out a response, then hesitate, deleting it. Finally, I settle on something casual.

Anytime. Let me know if you want to talk more.

As I set my phone down, I can’t help but smile. Whatever this is between us, it’s growing. And for the first time in a long time, I’m not scared to see where it might lead.

Chapter 10

Logan

The Pine Harbor Community Center hums with its usual energy—a low buzz of overlapping lives, punctuated by faint laughter and muted conversations. The sound of kids laughing from the skating rink echoes faintly, mingling with the shuffle of feet and muted conversations in the hallways. I should feel grounded here—I usually do—but today the air feels different, heavier somehow.

I catch snippets of conversation as I walk toward the gym. My name isn’t mentioned outright, but it’s clear enough what they’re talking about. A woman’s voice filters through the din, sharp with intrigue.

“Did you hear she’s back in town? His ex…can you imagine how awkward that must be?”

“You’d think she’d let it go by now,” someone else replies. “Wasn’t she the one who aired all their dirty laundry in the first place?”

My jaw tightens, but I keep walking, my feet heavier with each step. It’s not worth engaging. It’s not like anything I say would change the narrative people have already written in their heads. Still, the words sting, each syllable a reminder of mistakes I’d rather forget.

In the gym, the team’s already gathered, their banter loud and carefree. Mark waves me over, his grin as wide as ever.

“You look like you’ve been chewing on nails,” he says, clapping me on the back. “What’s got you in a twist this time?”

“Nothing,” I mutter, dropping my bag onto the bench.

Mark isn’t convinced, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he leans back and grins. “This reminds me of my neighbor’s cat—it’s convinced it’s a ninja, but it face-plants every time.” He mimics a cat leaping and crashing, complete with exaggerated sound effects.

Despite myself, I laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously effective,” he counters with a wink. And he’s not wrong. The absurdity of his story chips away at my tension, replacing it with a fleeting moment of levity. He’s good at that—making the world feel a little less heavy with humor that’s just this side of ridiculous. Still, the thought lingers in the back of my mind like a shadow that refuses to fade.

After practice, Mark ropes me into grabbing lunch at a small diner near the edge of town. The smell of fried food and fresh coffee hits me like a warm embrace as soon as we step inside. The diner is a blend of Pine Harbor’s charm and nostalgia, with checkered tablecloths and faded photos of local events lining the walls. We slide into a booth by the window, where the afternoon light filters through lace curtains, casting patterns onto the table. The hum of chatter and the clink of cutlery form a comforting backdrop.

“So,” Mark says around a mouthful of fries, “are you going to tell me what’s been eating at you, or do I have to guess? And don’t try to play it cool—I’ve got a good memory, you know. Last time we talked, you were all about Lucy and Lewis. So, what gives?”

“It’s nothing,” I reply automatically, but Mark gives me a look that says he’s not buying it.

“Come on, man. Spill. Is it the campaign? The dog? Lucy?” He waggles his eyebrows at the last one, and I roll my eyes.

“It’s my ex,” I admit after a long pause. “She’s back in town, apparently.”

Mark lets out a low whistle. “Yikes. That’s…less fun than Lucy. What’s she doing here?”

“No idea,” I say, poking at my burger. “But people are already talking, and I…I hate it. Every time I feel like I’m making progress, something like this happens, and it’s like I’m right back where I started.”

Mark leans back, studying me with uncharacteristic seriousness. “Look, man, you can’t control what people say. And yeah, maybe your ex did a number on your reputation, but that doesn’t define you. What you’re doing now is what matters. People notice, even if they don’t always say it.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Mark’s right, but it’s easier said than done.

When I get back to my apartment, Lewis greets me with his usual enthusiasm, bounding to the door and wagging his tail like I’ve been gone for weeks instead of hours. I drop to one knee, scratching behind his ears and letting his unconditional joy wash over me.

“Hey, buddy,” I murmur. “You ever feel like you’re running uphill and sliding back down all at once?”

Lewis tilts his head, his eyes bright and curious. I chuckle softly, shaking my head. “Didn’t think so. Must be nice to live in the moment.”

Lewis paws at my knee, his leash clutched in his mouth like he’s making a formal request. I sigh, unable to resist the hopeful look in his eyes. “Alright, alright, I get it. Walk time.” I grab his leash and clip it on, and he practically dances by the door, wagging his tail like we’re headed on the greatest adventure of all time.

---