Page 42 of Mr. Mistletoe
But I’m already gone, walking out before he can say anything else.
Outside, the snow’s falling again. The drift of snow is light, almost peaceful. I breathe it in, the cold air burning my hot lungs. An ache builds inside my chest, and for the first time all day, I let myself feel exactly what I’m missing. Her.
Nothing else matters.
I start walking toward my truck, boots crunching in the snow. I could be angry. I could be bitter. But all I feel is a fierce, stubborn love. In the past, I would have backed off, but not now.
I pull out my phone, open the post again. That picture of us under the arena lights, smiling like the world can’t stoop us.
“She’s worth it,” I say quietly to the empty air.
Then I post a comment on her photo:
Our first game together. Here’s to many more.
I meant that smile in that photo. And I’m not sorry for any of it.
I pocket the phone and look back at the skating rink. I’ll miss coaching, but I’d rather have love.
Let them take the job, the championship.
They can’t takeher.
I pocket my phone and glance back toward the rink. The lights are on, twinkling against the night sky. Guilt cuts like a knife. I’d promised to play Santa one last time before the market is over.
I should go home. Forget about it.
But I can already picture the look on their faces if Santa doesn’t show up. And Mike is too hurt to do the job right.
So I go to the rink. It’s already humming with holiday chaos. Tinny carols play through the speakers, and kids weave across the ice without a care in the world.
“Are you Clark?”
I turn and see a woman wrapped in a bright pink faux fur coat. She’s got a halo of white hair, fair skin, and bright blue eyes. I see the resemblance immediately, but it doesn’t hurt that she’s wearing a T-shirt with a graphic candle emblazoned on the front.
“You must be Jess’s grandmother.”
Her eyes twinkle with delight. “That’s a hard yes, bro.”
I laugh and stick out my hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
She pushes aside my hand and goes in for the hug. “I knew you would be the one.”
Am I? The one for Jess?
I think I could be if given the chance. I picture our future together. Relaxed. Easy. Just like it should be between two people who are meant to be together.
“I hope she knows how special she is,” I say.
“We can all use a reminder every now and again.”
A chorus of high-pitched cheers distracts me.
“Santa! Santa!” Tiny arms wave. Kids fill the rink.
Mike gingerly takes to the ice in the Santa suit, holding onto the railing as he picks his way slowly around the rink. My heart squeezes. I should have insisted I take the last shift as Santa.
“Sorry,” I say, pulling my skates from my bag. “I’ve got a skating Santa sub out.”
