Page 78 of Offside for Christmas
Maybe he'll surprise you.
By the time the festival officially opened at 2 PM, the square was packed.
Ellie had changed into her dark green wool coat and red scarf—festive but practical for hours of being outside. She'd pulled her hair back in a braid to keep it out of her face, but curls were already escaping. The temperature had dropped lately, and her breath came out in visible puffs.
She made her rounds, checking in with each booth, solving small crises: The hot chocolate ran out—she called Sophie's café for backup; the sound system had feedback—she adjusted the speakers herself; Mrs. Henderson's cookie table collapsed—she, Mac, and Cole rebuilt it in ten minutes.
Every time she passed the Eagles booth, Cole was there, and every time, their eyes met.
"How's it going?" she asked during one pass, trying to sound casual and professional.
"Good. Sold out of hats already." Cole was wearing his Eagles jersey and a Santa hat that Mac had clearly forced on him. He looked ridiculous and adorable. "Turns out I'm a natural salesman."
"Don't spread that around. It'll ruin your grumpy reputation."
“Does it now?”
"Your secret's safe with me."
His voice dropped lower, meant just for her. "Come back later. When it's less crowded."
"Why?"
"So I can kiss you without the entire town watching."
Heat flooded Ellie's face despite the cold. "Cole—"
"Or I can kiss you now." His eyes were wicked. "Your choice."
She glanced around at the families browsing nearby, the committee members watching, her parents' booth literally twenty feet away. "Later. Definitely later."
"Tease," he said, grinning.
"Behave," she shot back, but she was smiling as she walked away.
Behind her, she heard Mac say, "Dude, you've got it so bad."
"Shut up, Mac."
The “Skate with the Eagles” session kicked off at four, with the game following later that night at eight.
Ellie had meant to check on the other booths, but she found herself drawn to the ice rink instead, watching as Cole and several teammates took to the ice with a group of kids aged five to ten.
Cole looked uncertain at first, awkward in a way he never was during regular hockey. But then a little girl—maybe seven years old, wearing a pink jacket and wobbly skates—grabbed his hand for balance, and something in his expression softened.
"Are you really in the NHL?" the girl asked, looking up at him with wide eyes.
"I was," Cole said, skating slowly to match her pace. "Now I play here."
"Why? The NHL is way cooler."
Cole helped her navigate around another child. "You know what? This is pretty cool too."
A boy with a missing front tooth skated up, nearly crashing into Cole's legs. "Can you teach me to shoot? My dad says you have the best slap shot in the league!"
"I don't know about that," Cole said, but he was smiling. "But yeah, I can teach you. Come on."
Then Ellie spotted Finn wobbling toward Cole, his helmet slightly crooked, determination written all over his face.
