Page 9 of Offside for Christmas
"Or you could just... not." Amber finally glanced up, fixing Ellie with a look that was equal parts annoyed and concerned. "Let someone else handle Christmas for once."
Ellie's spine stiffened. "I like helping."
"You like being indispensable." Amber set down her phone, giving Ellie her full attention now. "There's a difference."
"Girls," Caroline said in her peacemaker voice, though she was watching Ellie with that same concerned expression Amber wore. "Ellie, sweetheart, Amber has a point. You're doing the cookie station, organizing the kids' skating party, running PT sessions, helping with your patients—when do you rest?"
"I'll rest after the festival," Ellie said.
"That's what you always say," Amber muttered. "Then it's New Year's, then Valentine's Day planning, then Easter, then—"
"Can we not do this right now?" Ellie's voice came out sharper than she intended. "I'm fine. I like being involved. I like helping my community. Why is that such a problem?"
Caroline and Amber exchanged a look—that infuriating mother-daughter look that said they were having an entire conversation about Ellie without including her.
"It's not a problem, honey," Caroline said gently. "We just worry. You give so much to everyone else. We want to make sure someone's taking care of you too."
"I take care of myself."
"We know you do. But sweetheart, there's nothing wrong with wanting companionship. It doesn’t make you weak."
"I know," she said quietly. "I just... I'm not ready yet."
I don't know if I'll ever be ready, she didn't say.Because the last time I let myself fall for someone, let myself believe in forever, I ended up back here with all my boxes and broken dreams, trying to pretend I chose this life instead of having it chosen for me.
"Well, when you are ready," Caroline said, pulling her into a hug that smelled like sugar and home, "we'll be here. And we'll love whoever makes you happy."
"Even if he's terrible," Amber added.
"Especially if he's terrible," Caroline agreed. "Those are the ones who need the most love."
Ellie's apartment was exactly seven blocks from the bakery, on the second floor of a converted Victorian that had been split into four units. Hers was the one with the balcony overlooking Main Street, which meant she got to watch the town square's Christmas tree lighting ceremony every year without leaving home.
Inside: aggressively cozy. That's how Sophie described it, anyway. Fairy lights strung along the ceiling. Throw blankets on every surface. A hot chocolate station in the corner (complete with marshmallows, peppermint sticks, and three differentkinds of chocolate). Bookshelves covering an entire wall, organized by genre and color because Ellie couldn't help herself.
The spicy romance novels were hidden behind the Jane Austen and Louisa May Alcott. Just in case her mother stopped by unannounced.
Ellie changed into pajamas—soft flannel pants covered in snowflakes and an oversized Eagles hoodie—made herself hot chocolate, with extra marshmallows, because she'd earned it, and settled onto her couch with the book she'd been reading.
Breakaway, by Jenna Blake. A football romance about a player who falls for the team's communication manager.
The irony wasn't lost on her.
Her phone buzzed. Sophie, naturally.
SOPHIE:Looked up the new guy again. He's REALLY hot. Like, stupidly hot.
ELLIE:Not relevant.
SOPHIE:You sure? Because he's exactly your type.
ELLIE:I don't have a type.
SOPHIE:Grumpy, brooding, emotionally unavailable? Yeah, that's definitely not your type. ??
Ellie threw her phone across the couch.
I do NOT have a type, she thought fiercely, taking a aggressive sip of hot chocolate.And even if I did, it definitely wouldn't be entitled NHL players.
