The three of us glanced around the room. Boxes were piled on boxes, bubble wrap floated around us, and packing tape rolled around like tumbleweeds.

  Melissa laughed. “As good as I know it will look,” she clarified.

  “Hey…” I put my hands on my hips. “This is called cardboard chic.”

  “I’ll leave you to it.” Melissa stepped out of the office.

  Suddenly, the air seemed tense. Was Faith my assistant? Was I supposed to tell her what to do? I had prided myself on being a lone wolf, and now there was going to be a pup following me around. “Ummmm.” I looked around trying to figure out what to do.

  “How about I help you unpack these boxes?” Faith held out her hands and I let her take the box from me.

  An hour later the two of us had unpacked and assembled all of the pieces for the office. “I like where you’re going with this,” she gestured to the accessories. “But what are you going to put them on? My childhood kitchen table?” She sat on the desk.

  “Come and check this out,” I opened my laptop. “I’ve sourced a gorgeous cedar desk, minimal but with a live edge, and the same designer is going to send matching shelving that is going to flank the fireplace.

  Faith bit her lip.

  “Floating shelving,” I added.

  The side of her lips turned up and she nodded in approval. “I like it. What was your inspiration?”

  I pointed to the antler chandelier above us. “That.”

  Her lips remained closed, but her smile grew larger, almost wistful and she nodded. “I like it, Amber. When Mom told me she gave you free rein I was expecting…” Her voice trailed off.

  “What?” I was curious. “What were you expecting?”

  She looked at me with a glint in her eye. “Like a Palm Tree threw up all over the place. You know, tropical prints, rattan furniture, shuffleboard courts, that kind of stuff.”

  I laughed. Most of my career had been spent designing exactly what Faith had described with surprising accuracy. “The shuffleboard court is going in the main room.”

  She threw her head back and laughed. “This co-op term is going to be fun.”

  I met Faith’s smile with my own. “I think it is.” My glance returned to the computer screen and I turned the laptop so she could see it. “This is the desk.”

  Faith clicked through the photo gallery, finishing on the page with the designer, a rugged-looking mountain man. “That’s a beauty,” she whistled. “The desk isn’t too bad either.” She leaned in to look at the screen and groaned. “Chance Rapids. Of course. All the good-looking men live out west.”

  “What are you talking about? There are plenty of cute guys here.” In reality, I had only seen one, but with a town full of hockey players there had to be at least a couple more.

  “Please.” She shook her head. “I grew up here. Any local guys that are still here are either married, or drunks and the cottagers are just here for the summer season.”

  “What about the hockey players?” I started packing one of the boxes with bubble wrap. “I’ve heard there’s a few of them in town.”

  “Ugh,” she groaned. “They’re the worst. Most of them are from out of town and only interested in puck bunnies. And, the ones that live here, I’ve known all my life and could never date.”

  She didn’t say anything about the coach, and I didn’t bring it up. After a rough calculation, I figured out that Dean would have moved here when Faith was in high school. If this small town really was as small as it seemed, she would know who he was.

  “And, they’re just immature jocks who never grow up,” she added.

  “All of them?” I asked.

  “Alllllll of them. Trust me, my best friend is on the team. He needs to learn to grow up, but it’s hard in a town that worships the ground they walk on.”

  I scanned the packing sheet, comparing it to the order sheet. “Did you unpack the picture frames?”

  “They’re behind the door.” She walked past me and opened the door to show me where she’d stashed the huge frames.

  “Perfect.” I checked the last item off the list. “Everything is here. Well, almost everything. Once the desk and shelves arrive, we’ll have to get a handyman to come in and hang them up, as well as the gallery frames.”

  “A handyman?” Faith pursed her lips. “Have you met my mother?”

  I almost snorted. “I can’t ask your mom to hang the shelves.”

  “No, but I can do it.” Faith put her hands on her hips. “My dad taught me woodworking, and who do you think laid all of this gorgeous flooring?”

  My cheeks burned. I wasn’t much older than Faith, but I felt like a dinosaur, automatically turning to a man when a hammer was needed. A still foreign movement caught my eye; snowflakes had started to swirl outside the window behind Faith.

  “Faith, do you know how to operate a snowblower?”

  She furrowed her brow at me. “Yeah… why?”

  “I’ll pay you twenty bucks to show me how to do it.”

  “How about you buy me a coffee?”

  “Done.” I set down the clipboard and glanced over as Faith slid into her down coat.

  “Where are you going?” I checked my watch, it was only four o’clock.

  “I don’t drink caffeine past five. Let’s go.” She put on a gray wool hat.

  “But…” I glanced around at the room.

  Faith pulled her hair out from the collar of her coat so it cascaded perfectly down her back from under her hat. “This stuff isn’t going anywhere, and until the furniture comes in, we’ve got nowhere to put it anyway.”

  I tried to protest, but a lack of retort constricted my throat.

  “And, if Mom knew that you didn’t know how to clear your driveway she’d probably fire you.”

  I nodded. I was ninety percent sure that Faith was joking, but the other ten percent told me to put my jacket on. “To the coffee shop.”

  With a clear driveway and an empowered attitude, plus a new friend, I felt like I was on top of the world.

  The vibration from the snowblower seemed to stay in my hands for hours after Faith’s very patient lesson. I only pelted the side of my car with the snow twice before operating the machine became second nature.

  Faith’s coffee had turned cold and we decided to open up a bottle of wine instead of heating it. She tucked her feet under herself as she eased into my sofa. “Your place looks great,” she smiled. “You’d never know you just moved in.”

  Looking around, I realized that she was right. “It’s starting to feel like home,” I said and took a sip of the wine, relaxing as the gas fireplace flickered in the early evening light. “The neighbor moved in before me and his stuff is still in boxes.”

  Faith laughed. “Who’s your neighbor?” She traced the stem of her wineglass with manicured fingers.

  I hoped that the flush on my face wasn’t as evident as it felt. “His name is…” I pretended to search for the name that had been running through my head on a loop since his lips touched mine. “Dean something.”

  “Dean?” Faith tilted her head as though thinking.

  “Covington, I think is his last name.”

  “Ohhhhh,” Faith smiled. “Coach.”

  “Is that what you call him?”

  Faith smiled and nodded, “That’s what everyone calls him.” Then she looked at me, her eyes questioning, “He’s pretty cute.”

  She was testing the water. The burning in my cheeks leaped to inferno level. “I hadn’t really noticed.”

  Faith’s eyes glinted. “Mmmhmmm. Okay.”

  She was in her twenties, but I felt like I was hanging out with an old soul. “Do you know the story about his wife?” she asked.

  A lump bulged in my throat. I didn’t know the story and I wondered if I wanted to know. Had he cheated on her? Was he like the players he coached? “I haven’t heard that story.” I tried to play it cool.

  Before she could reply her phone pinged with a text message. Her eyes glanced at the device, but she didn’t move to pick it up. “Well,” she started, but the phone pinged again, and again.

  “Do you need to check that?” I pointed and then sipped my wine.

  “No,” she said with authority and pushed the device a little further away.

  “Where was I?” she asked.

  “The coach’s wife.” It felt weird calling Dean ‘Coach’”.

  “Kira”, Faith nodded, then the ring of her phone interrupted her. “I better see who this is.” She shook her head.

  “Go ahead,” I waved my hand.

  Kira. I mulled the name over in my head and tried to picture the kind of woman that Dean had married. The name just didn’t seem to fit. Dean and Kira.

  Faith stood. “I have to get this.” She sounded annoyed and answered her phone and slipped into the kitchen. While she was gone, I adjusted the thermostat on the fireplace and caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror above it. My cheeks were almost the same color as the pinot noir in my glass, and I didn’t know if it was from the cold and exertion of my wrestling match with the Frank, the name Faith and I had christened the snowblower, the wine, or thinking about the way Dean’s hand felt on my waist. I smiled at my reflection, maybe it was all three, and I couldn’t help but notice that the glow looked good.

  Feeling a little ridiculous at my tipsy admiration of myself, I turned as Faith came back into the room. She tossed her phone on the sofa and groaned, “Ugh.”

  “What was that?” I grabbed the bottle and filled up her glass.

  “An old friend.”

  I nodded. “Is everything okay?”

  She rolled her eyes as she shook her head. “He wants me to come to the game.”

  “Is this your hockey player friend?” I had meant to ask Faith more about this ‘friend’ back at the office.

  “He’s more of an ex-friend. We grew up together and were super tight in high school, but his last girlfriend was so jealous of me she made him choose. Her or me.”

  “Ah.” I nodded. “And he chose her.”

  “Yeah, and I’m guessing it didn’t work out, because all of a sudden he wants me back in his life.”

  “In a romantic way?”

  “Eww. No.” She laughed. “The only love he will ever have is his precious hockey. I mean, I haven’t seen him in years and he expects me to drop everything and go to an Otters game. I mean, you know what they’re like.”

  I shrugged. “Actually, I don’t.”

  “What?” She screwed up her forehead and then relaxed. “Right, I keep forgetting you just moved here, but still, you haven’t been to a game yet?”

  “I hadn’t planned on it either. I don’t know anything about hockey.”

  “They’ve got teams in Florida, don’t they? Like two of them?”

  “Yeah, I suppose they do, but my ex was into golf and…” I was tipsy enough that I almost added mistresses, but didn’t want to dump all of my baggage on Faith. While I knew we were going to be friends, I was supposed to be her mentor.

  Faith slapped my thigh. “That’s settled then.”

  “What’s settled?”

  She was standing and finishing her wine. “We’re going to an Otters’ game. Drink up.”

  “I don’t think either of us is in a position to drive anywhere.” Faith’s lips were stained a berry color from the wine.

  “It’s a good thing my mom got you some walking boots then.” She winked.

  Nine

  Dean

  The arena was packed, like always, but the fans seemed tired. We were only down one goal, but my players had been on the defense the entire second period, making sure that the gap in the score didn’t widen.

  I kept a calm façade, arms crossed as I watched the red shirts of the opposing team, the Timber Wolves charging down the ice. There was a collective gasp in the air as their star player deked around Mike Ryan and launched a slapshot at our net. I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the sound of the goal horn, but instead heard the distinctive sound of puck on metal and the screams from the fans as Leo snatched the puck from the air with his stick and slammed it to the ice with authority. The mane of his hockey hair flowed as he skated down the ice on the breakaway, the red shirts were unable to keep up with his burst of speed. The goalie would be expecting a hard fast shot, and so was I. Leo was not a patient player and shot before thinking ninety-five percent of the time.

  Luckily, this was the other five percent, and I jammed my hands in my suit pockets, hiding the fact that my hands were balled into tight fists. The Lion faked a shot at the net and then performed a wraparound, tipping the puck beneath the unprepared goalie’s glove one second before the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the second period.

  “Yes!” Pacey screamed and raised his fist in the air.

  My heart rate had shot through the rafters, and it was probably beating harder than Leo’s. The Lion glided past the bench, tapping gloves with the rest of the players. I shook my head at him. The play had been risky, but it had paid off. I couldn’t help the sides of my mouth from turning up into a smile. Leo gave me a light shrug and returned my wry smile.

  The Lion was a good player, but I hadn’t seen him skate like that all season. Maybe this morning’s announcement about Gunnar Lockwood had lit a fire under him.

  With the second period over, the team filed off the bench and headed into the dressing room. Between the second and third periods was the frisbee toss, a fundraiser for the minor league teams. Andy drove a pickup truck around the ice while fans who had purchased frisbees tried to land them in a bin in the back. The cameraman zoomed in on Andy as he drove by, while the truck was pelted with flying discs. I gave him a thumbs-up as he passed the bench and Andy returned me the finger. I glanced to the jumbotron to make sure that Andy’s less than family-friendly gesture hadn’t been captured, but the camera had moved on to the audience participants.

  My heart paused mid-beat. She had a huge smile on her face and a handful of frisbees. Amber was at the game. And she was wearing my hat. The camera panned away before she took her shot. I waited for a moment, hoping it would focus back on her section. When it didn’t, I casually looked to the stands as I exited the bench. It seemed like hers were the only set of eyes in that section and mine were drawn to their blue gaze like a magnet. Time stood still and I smiled, my brain wondering what my heart already knew, that in an arena filled with thousands of people, it felt like we were the only ones there. She smiled back.

  Then all the sounds of the rink came rushing back to me. The roar of the crowd, the dull thud of the frisbees hitting the truck, and Metallica blaring from the sound system. I stole one more glance at Amber, and I swore she stole one too. I headed down the hallway, my heart full for two reasons: one, we weren’t technically losing the game anymore, a tie was better than a loss; and two, I was feeling something I’d never felt in my entire life. The whole soul-mate thing that I thought was bullshit, wasn’t. Mine was sitting up there in the two hundred section at McManus place stadium.

  In the third period my players rallied and put forward a better effort, but it wasn’t enough. We walked away from that game with a three to two loss. Management wasn’t going to be happy, but for the first time in a long time, I saw a team that I could work with, a team that was capable of picking up their hockey sticks and saving the season – and my career.

  It was time to do something we hadn’t done in a long time. Celebrate as a team.

  The mood in the dressing room was sombre and when I walked in most of the team didn’t look at me, the laces on their skates suddenly seemed to fascinate them.

  “Good hustle out there.” I clapped my hands together and a few of them looked up, their eyebrows knitted. I continued, “Lion, I haven’t seen you play like that all season. Whatever’s gotten into you, keep it up.” Leo smiled but didn’t say anything. “I saw a different team out there in the third period. A team I used to know.” I realized I was shouting. Yelling at the guys had become a post-game habit, one that needed to stop. Unless of course, they deserved it – and tonight, they didn’t. “I’m giving you tomorrow morning off.”

  This got their attention, and suddenly all of their eyes were on me. Over the past few months, I had upped the practice time, hoping that the extra time on the ice would bring the flailing team together. So far, that strategy had fallen as flat as the ice the guys skated on. “Because we’re celebrating tonight.”

  The guys all looked at each other and I could tell they were wondering if I had gone crazy. “We didn’t win on the scoreboard tonight, but I saw a team that is finally working together. You don’t need more drills or more time on the ice. You need to feel like a team, and a team that celebrates together wins together.” It was the most positive speech I’d made in a long time and it felt good to see the weight lift off the shoulders of some of my players, especially the new guys.

  The year had been rough for everyone, but I couldn’t imagine starting my hockey career in a league like the Northern Professional, on a team that was as rough as ours. “Now, come on, get into the showers, and let’s go to the Brew Pub and celebrate those two beauty goals, and one of the best turnarounds I’ve seen in years.” I looked to Leo, although the whole team knew which turnaround I was talking about. “Drinks are on me.” I paused. “I mean the first two rounds…”

  Pacey raised his eyebrows and followed me out of the dressing room. The door wasn’t shut and he smiled as we heard the cheers and shouts behind us. I knew the night was going to cost me a fortune, but sometimes the best coaching didn’t come from studying plays on the ice, it came from inspiration. And like I hoped tonight was going to prove – intoxication.

  “Dad.” I turned to see Chloe running towards me. She was getting to the age where she didn’t want me to hug her in public, so I was surprised when she launched herself into my arms. She hadn’t been herself lately, and I squeezed her as long as she let me. “Close game,” she said.

  I set her down on the ground. “It was.”

  “You’ll get them next time, I can feel it.” Chloe had no reason to placate me and since Kira left, she had basically been forced to watch every single game, home and away. She probably knew the plays better than some of the players.