Chapter 1

Clara

Balancing a paper bag of groceries on each hip, I slide the key into the front door lock and push the door open with my hip. I’m doing my best to listen to my daughter tell me all about her school day—and I do mean all about it, thanks to the fact she inherited my lack of conciseness—as my son uses my butt as his own personal drum machine.

Motherhood. Am I right?

“—which is why I told Mrs. Englewood that you would bake all the cupcakes and that you would do the fancy thing with the sprinkles that you know me and my friends love so much, right, Mommy?” Hannah says, at long last taking a breath.

“You did what?” I ask as I trudge down the hallway and into the kitchen. “Close the door behind you, please, Benny!”

The house rattles as he slams the door shut.

“I said close the door, Benny, not cause roof tiles to drop off.”

He doesn’t reply.

“He always does that,” Hannah says, her arms crossed, relishing it as she always does when Benny gets told off.

I place the heavy grocery bags on the kitchen counter and let out a relieved sigh. Being a single mom should come with a warning label. Do not take if allergic to noise, repetition, or having to negotiate peace talks between people under the height of five foot nothing.

“So you’ll do it, Mommy?” Hannah asks.

I turn to look at her and see that hopeful smile on her pretty, young face. Her hair is still in the braids I did over cornflakes this morning, the same blonde as both mine and her aunt Keira’s. “How many cupcakes exactly, sweetheart?”

“It’s for the bake sale so lots and lots and lots.”

“So, like, twenty?” I ask hopefully as I mentally calculate how long it will take me to bake twenty cupcakes, allow them to cool, and then ice them all. Perfectly doable before leaving the house for school tomorrow morning.

“Oh, more than that. I told Mrs. Englewood a hundred.”

I widen my eyes. “A hundred? Sweetheart, there’s no way I can make that many in one evening when we’ve got to take Benny to hockey practice and you’ve got figure skating class. It’s not humanly possible.”

“Please, Mommy?” she asks, doing that pleading thing she’s perfected over the years that I’m almost certain she got while watching Puss in Boots in the Shrek movies. Her blue eyes are the size of saucers.

“I’ll do what I can,” I tell her, wishing I could magic up one hundred perfectly frosted cupcakes with a snap of my fingers—and knowing I’ll be elbow deep in cake mix until after midnight.

“Thanks, Mommy,” she says with a smile that lights up her entire face, bouncing on the spot as though she has too much energy to contain inside her little body.

Which is about exactly the opposite of me.

Benny charges into the room, wielding his hockey stick as though it’s a sword. He comes to a sudden stop when his stick meets the wall, puncturing a hole in the plaster. “Oops,” he says, looking up at me with a grimace.

Hannah crosses her arms and glares at her brother. “You broke the kitchen wall, Benny. You are in so much trouble.”

“I didn’t mean it!” Benny says, his voice a high-pitched whine the neighborhood dogs are probably pricking their ears up at.

I blow out a frustrated breath as I inspect the damage. “How many times do I have to tell you not to run around with your hockey stick inside, Benny?”

“Too many times,” mini-me replies.

“I didn’t mean it,” is his repeated reply, like somehow that means the wall won’t be punctured and I won’t have to either hide it up with one of the kids’ drawings or go to the expense of getting it fixed.

The drawing, it is.

My phone rings as I’m running my fingers over the dent in the wall.

“Mommy, your phone is ringing,” Benny tells me, thrusting my phone in front of my face, almost hitting my nose.

I take it and read the screen. Instantly, my heart begins to drum in my chest. I straighten up and hold my index finger up against my lips to tell the kids to be quiet.

This is it. My shot.

I straighten my shoulders and press answer, putting on my best phone voice. “Hello, Clara Johnson speaking,” I say, even though the caller ID has told me exactly who it is on the other end.

“Clara, hi. It’s Veronica Reynolds from the Ice Breakers management team.”

“Hello, Ms. Reynolds,” I reply, keeping my voice as steady as I can manage. Which is no small feat when you’ve got one child’s set of eyes trained on you, while the other child is reaching for his hockey stick once more, ready to inflict more damage on our home.

“You’re going to be sent to your room for the rest of the day for breaking the wall,” Hannah says as she makes a grab for his hockey stick.

“I am not!” Benny rebuffs, yanking on the stick.

“Yes, you are!” Hannah replies.

I place my hand on the offending weapon and glare at both my offspring as I say, “Bear with me a moment, please, Ms. Reynolds.”

“Of course,” she replies, and I wonder how much of Benny’s exchange she heard.

Placing my hand over the speaker, I say, “I’ll have the stick, thank you. Now both of you, go get changed, ready to go to your lessons.”

To my utter astonishment both kids do as I say, leaving me alone in the kitchen, holding the hockey stick in one hand and my phone in the other.

Miracles like this are few and far between in parenting.

“Sorry about that,” I say to Veronica Reynolds.

“It sounds like you’ve got your hands full, Clara.”

“Not at all,” I reassure her because what does that mean? You’re too busy to take the job? You’re better off remaining a stay-at-home mom who works part-time doing a mind-numbing admin job for a local accounting firm?

“I’m calling with good news, Clara. You really impressed us in your interview. We would love to offer you the job of Social Media Manager for the Ice Breakers.”

Suddenly holes in the wall and arguing kids melt into the background.

“Are you serious?” My voice veers more toward the squeaky mouse end of the scale than the, I’m totally in control and get awesome job offers every day of the week that I’m aiming for. In my defense, this is my absolute dream job, and I’d already convinced myself I didn’t get it to lessen the blow when I got the news.

She laughs. “Of course I’m serious. We loved your social media ideas. They were so fresh and fun.”

Wow. Not only am I getting offered the job, but I’m getting complimented by Veronica Reynolds, Chief Marketing Officer for the Ice Breakers, and altogether impressive businesswoman. Aka, who I would love to be, given half the chance.

“Thank you so much. That means a lot coming from you,” I gush.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Clara.” I can hear the smile in her voice.

“I’ll remember that,” I reply, my giddiness threatening to roll out of me in an excited squeak. But I’m aiming for non-mouse here, so I do my best to hold it in.

“Not only did you impress in the interview, but the strong, authentic voice in your existing social media presence showed us your authentic self in an interesting way. We think you’ll be a real asset to the Ice Breakers.”

It had felt like a risk at the time to use my @CFSMomLife as a reference point for what I’m capable of online. I started the account soon after my diagnosis with chronic fatigue many years ago, and the online community that I hooked into has grown to be such an important part of my wellness journey.

And the fact I’ve got a decent following these days can’t have hurt, either.

“So my CFS isn’t an issue?” I ask and hold my breath.

“We’re an equal opportunities employer at the Ice Breakers, Clara. We only employ the best, regardless of their personal circumstances, and you have successfully used social media to share your story and inspire others. In a crowded online world where it’s hard to get heard, that’s quite an achievement. Unless, of course, you’re posting funny cat videos.”

I let out a relieved laugh. “I don’t even own a cat.”

Even though I’ve been doing great for well over a year now, I still felt it was super important to be upfront with Veronica about my CFS. Experience has shown me that even though I have many “green light days,” as my friend, doctor, and Chronic Warriors Support Group leader, Bernice Chen, puts it, I don’t have endless energy reserves. I need to manage myself carefully—which means sleep, nutrition, exercise, and me time.

Some of this is a big ask for a single mom who’s taken whatever jobs she could, just to keep the lights on.

And in recovery from CFS, you never know when your symptoms can come back and bite you on the butt.

“It was a unanimous decision to bring you on board. When Kaylee left so suddenly during this crucial pre-season, quite honestly, we wondered how we could ever replace her. But you, Clara Johnson, you impressed us all with your fresh approach and enthusiasm for the role.”

“I appreciate that so much. Thank you.”

“So? What do you say? Will you be the Ice Breakers’ new social media manager, aka SMM?” she asks, and then adds, “We do so love an acronym.”

“Of course I will! Are you kidding? Thank you so, so much, Ms. Reynolds,” I then reply in a rush.

“Veronica, please. Everyone in the office is on a first name basis.”

“Got it,” I echo.

“When can you start? With the players already in pre-season training, it would be great to get you on board soon. You could start by getting some footage of their training sessions. Our followers love to see our players doing their thing on the ice.”

“How does Monday sound?” I ask, my stomach full of excited butterflies. That will give me enough time to hand in my notice to the accountants and mentally prepare for this new challenge.

And it’s going to be a challenge for me. Becoming the Ice Breakers’ Social Media Manager will be my first ever serious job. And yes, I know that sounds terrible for a 31-year-old woman to admit.

The thing is, I got married and quickly pregnant with Hannah so early in my time at college that I never actually graduated. Instead, I moved back home to Maple Falls with my ex, Dwayne, to live in my childhood home that my parents had left to me and my sister Keira when they’d passed away in a car crash years before. Dwayne went out to work, and I became a stay-at-home mom.

Then Benny came along, and it seemed my fate was set. A husband, two kids, and bills to pay meant I would take whatever work I could get, working part time as a waitress at Shirley May’s diner, handing out skate rentals at the arena, serving coffee at Falling for Books, Emmy Roberts’s place on Main Street.

You name a business in this small town, and you can bet your bottom dollar I’ve worked there.

It wasn’t what I had dreamed of, but you know what? I wouldn’t change it. Although things didn’t work out with Dwayne, I got my two beautiful babies, Hannah and Benny.

Together, they are the light of my life.

And life was good for a while. Well, for a few years at least. One winter, I caught a particularly nasty virus when the kids were still in preschool, a virus I never quite got over, finally getting diagnosed with CFS.

And then my whole world imploded.

That’s why this job means so much to me.

“Monday is perfect, Clara. I’ll have the contract sent over to you this afternoon, and we can get together first thing Monday morning and talk about putting some of your great ideas into practice.”

My great ideas. No pressure.

“That sounds wonderful, Ms.—I mean Veronica.”

“You’ll get used to it. See you Monday, eight thirty.”

“I look forward to it,” I reply, and she clicks off with a cheery goodbye.

I let out a breath.

I got the job. I got the job!

I’m the new Social Media Manager for the Ice Breakers.

Me, Clara Johnson, college dropout, single mom, and CFS survivor.

No more filing, data entry, or answering phones for Mr. Walker and his team of cardigan-wearing accountants. Nope. I’m going to be devising and executing social media campaigns for the biggest, most exciting team in the history of Maple Falls, full to the brim of new players, ready to take on the League and prove their worth.

And I’m only half scared to death.

 

 

Chapter 2

Cade

I make my way across the hardwood floor of my new living room and come to a stop by the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the landscape.

And there’s a lot of landscape in this new small town I’m calling home for the coming season. Which, if I’m honest, for a city guy like me, is a little unnerving.

Okay, it’s a lot unnerving.

I’m used to traffic and bars and people everywhere, living in the heart of Manhattan where I can get a pizza delivered to my place on the forty-seventh floor at 3:00 a.m. and never worry about running into the same person twice.

Here in Maple Falls, trees outnumber the residents by about 5,000 to one.

I blow out a breath, staring out at some of those trees. It’s mid-September and they’re just beginning to turn, creating a palette of greens and reds and oranges. The sun is high in the sky, partly obscured by clouds, with darkness on the horizon.

Here comes that famous Washington state rain.

I’ve been in Maple Falls for less than twenty-four hours, and although it’s the complete opposite of the frenetic buzz of where I used to live, the place sure does have a certain small-town charm to it, much like those Hallmark Christmas movies my mom loves to watch.

I spent my first night at a lodge, breakfasting at a quaint diner on Main Street, run by a woman who came out to introduce herself as Shirley May, her eyes twinkling as she accurately guessed I was one of the new hockey players in town.

I meandered down Main Street, checking out the old-fashioned buildings and feeling like I’d not only just flown from the other side of the country, but that I’d stepped back in time like Marty McFly—only without a DeLorean and a pair of low-top Nikes.

After my hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon, and a stack of pancakes, I walked back to my black BMW SUV, and it seemed every eye on Main Street was trained on me. A couple of women threw me flirty smiles, and a boy of about eleven asked for a selfie with me. Of course I obliged. This is the kind of place where everyone is up in everyone else’s business. As my new home for at least this season, I want to fit in.

“Where do you want this?” a gruff voice says, pulling my attention from all those trees, and I turn to see five removalists manhandling my prized baby grand piano. Sweat is pouring from their brows, and I’m thankful my prized Bösendorfer is all wrapped up nice in protective blankets and cardboard.

I’m kinda precious about my Bess.

And yeah, I did give her a name. Me and Bess are the longest relationship I’ve ever had.

After paying off my mom’s mortgage and putting a deposit on my own Manhattan place, Bess was the next thing I bought, thanks to the injection of cash signing with the NYC Blades brought.

We’ve been through a lot together. I couldn’t leave her behind in the city, not even for this one season with the Ice Breakers.

“Over there in the corner, thanks, guys,” I instruct them, pointing at an alcove by the fireplace. “Let me help.”

“It’s our job,” Ralph, the team leader says, but I join the guys anyway, the familiar stench of sweat hitting my nostrils as we position Bess just so.

“You play this thing?” Ralph pulls a cloth handkerchief from his overalls pocket and begins to mop his brow as the members of his crew begin to remove the cardboard outer layer.

“Sure do. My mom got me lessons when I was a kid. She figured it was good for me to have interests outside of hockey,” I reply, and a couple of the guys snicker, sharing knowing looks.

“Not including that,” I add with an internal groan, knowing exactly what they’re laughing at.

My reputation as a bad boy ladies’ man has clearly followed me over to the West Coast.

But the thing is, I’m not that guy anymore. In fact, I haven’t been that guy for well over a year now. Not that the media or even my teammates seem to have cottoned on to the fact yet. They still see me as the party guy, turning up with a woman on each arm and going home with another.

Don’t get me wrong, that lifestyle was fun. More than fun. What young guy, fresh out in the world after college, doesn’t want beautiful and available women throwing themselves at him 24/7? And all just because he’s good at playing hockey.

It’s a giant ego boost, and one I was happy to entertain.

There were lots of girls, but over time, I worked out that they didn’t want to be with me, the poor kid from New Jersey who grew up with a single mom who had to work double shifts at a diner and made tote bags to sell at weekend markets, just to make ends meet.

They didn’t want to know that guy.

They wanted the rich, fun-loving, partying winger for the New York City Blades, the guy who would happily splash the cash, get them into club VIP sections, buy bottles of Cristal, and get recognized in the street.

I playacted that guy for years. Heck, I became that guy.

But it wasn’t real, and a part of me always knew it wouldn’t last. You can’t play pro hockey your whole life. Not even Marc-Andre Fleury could do that.

Then I hit my thirties and a bunch of my teammates began to settle down, some even starting families. Suddenly, the bachelor lifestyle lost its luster. It got old, all those parties, all those meaningless hook-ups. I wanted what those guys had, the ones who had met the one, who’d fallen in love, who’d committed themselves to one person for the rest of their lives.

There was this one guy on the Blades. Jeremy Drake. He’d been one of my partners in partying crime, always up for going out on the town, always attracting a bevy of beauties wherever he went. And then he met Bella, a schoolteacher of all things, and it was like he had a total personality change overnight. One day he was party boy extraordinaire, and then the next he was accompanying Bella to her classroom after hours to decorate it with her students’ artwork.

At first, I didn’t get it. What was so special about this girl? But then I saw the way they looked at each other, and I felt it, right in my chest.

They were in love, and that wasn’t an emotion I was all that familiar with.

Or at all.

It was then that I lost the taste for the party scene, the puck bunnies, all of it.

I wanted what Drake and Bella had. Only I had no clue how to go about getting it.

I still don’t.

But that doesn’t stop me from wanting it.

Of course I didn’t tell anybody about my change of heart, and my reputation has clung to me like a baby koala clings to its mom.

That was close to two years ago, and I swear, time moves faster than it once did back in the good old days. Blink and it’s two years later.

Man, getting old sucks.

But age does come with perks, including the fact that, as an Unrestricted Free Agent, I could intentionally sign with a team located not only across the country from where I’d played most of my professional life, but in a small town where I could get the chance to reinvent myself as the man I am now. Not the man I once was.

With Bess sitting in pride of place, I pull a Stanley knife from my back pocket and cut open a box. I pull out a framed photo of me, my mom, and my sister Tori and her two kids, taken last Thanksgiving. All of us are grinning at the camera. We’d just eaten our turkey dinner with Tori’s husband, Lionel, my aunt Liz and uncle Don, and then played charades, the football game on the TV muted as we laughed at our terrible miming.

I wonder what this Thanksgiving will be like, now that I’m across the country from them all, playing on a new team, no longer able to drive over to New Jersey to see them.

When I told my mom I would move her to Maple Falls if it worked out for me here, she smiled like it was Christmas day. But there’s no point in uprooting her life if this isn’t going to be my forever home.

And I won’t know that until I’ve settled in and found my feet.

“Nice place you got here, Lennox,” a voice says, and I look up to see Jamie Hayes, my former NYC Blades captain and now fellow Ice Breaker, climbing over a bunch of boxes as he makes his way toward me.

“Hayes! Good to see you, my man,” I say as I clasp his hand in mine and slap him on his back. Like me, he’s in jeans and a hoodie.

“Good to see you, too, Lennox.”

“I’d offer you a coffee, but I’ve got no clue how to use the fancy machine that came with this place.” I gesture at the behemoth copper machine on one of the kitchen counters, looking like something from a Victorian locomotive.

“How’s the unpacking going?”

“We’re getting there,” I say.

He looks down at one of the boxes by his feet, labeled “Comics.” “You brought your comic books?”

“Of course I did,” I reply as though he’s asked me if I plan on breathing oxygen here in Maple Falls. “I’ve moved here, man. They go where I go. Period.”

“Is that why you’re always wearing tops with weird sayings?” He gestures at my black T-shirt with the words “Nexus Point” emblazoned across my chest.

“Don’t play dumb with me. You know The Timekeepers Chronicles is da bomb.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Da bomb?”

I chuckle. “You should get into them, man.  There are so many twists and turns, plus the time travel warps your mind.”

He chortles, shaking his head. “You do you, Lennox. I’m hoping you brought your gym equipment. This place is big enough for it all.”

“Sure did. It’s all set up in the garage, ready for use as and when. Wanna see?”

“Lead the way.”

We make our way through the boxes and down the hallway, where I give Jamie a mini tour of the house before entering the garage. The equipment has all been unboxed, and I’ve spent the best part of a couple hours helping some of the guys put the machines together after my breakfast, courtesy of Shirley May.

Jamie casts an appreciative eye around the space. “It’ll be just like NYC, us working out together.”

“Mostly, yeah.”

He arches an eyebrow at me. “Mostly?”

I chew on my lip for a beat. “I’m, well, I’m hoping this place will mean a fresh start for me.”

“Are you thinking of getting another weights system?”

“Nah, I mean more along the lines of reinventing myself. Leaving the old Cade Lennox behind.”

“New town, new you? Like a new hairdo if you’re a chick?” he asks with a grin, and I laugh.

“Something like that, only less to do with hairstyles and more to do with how I choose to live my life.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “Meaning?”

“You know me. I’m a good time guy. I love to party. I love to meet women. I don’t do serious, and I don’t do commitment.”

“‘Loverboy Lennox,’ wasn’t that one of the nicknames the media gave you a while back?”

I cringe. “Yeah.”

“And ‘Manhattan’s Most Wanted.’ I remember that one ’cos a bunch of the guys on the team were jealous. They wanted that one.”

“They can have it. I’m done with all that.”

“You’re done with that whole rapper lifestyle you had going on?”

“Heck, yeah. I want—” I break off, thinking of the conversation I had with my mom last Thanksgiving. She told me she wanted me to have the world, and part of that was finding someone to share it with. I swallow. “I guess I want to make my mom proud of who I am as a man.”

“Huh.”

“What does that mean?”

He pats me on the back. “It means my boy is finally growing up.”

I push his shoulder with the heel of my hand. “Shut up, man. I’m being serious here. I want to leave that guy behind. I want something more. Something real. Like Drake has with his girl.”

“Drake fell hard, and fast.”

“Yup.”

“And you’re expecting to meet the love of your life here in this small town? You do know the population is like a hundred people.”

“More like ten thousand, isn’t it?”

“You get what I mean. There are way fewer women in a small town than in a big place like the City.”

I shrug. “Sure there are. It’s basic math, Hayes.”

He slaps me on the back once more. “Good luck with that.”

“Thanks?”

He laughs. “I’m serious. If you want to change your life, Lennox, knock yourself out. Most of us want to leave bits of our past behind. I know I do, and turning over a new leaf in a place named after maple trees?”

“It’s kinda poetic.”

“As poetic as we hockey players get.”

Later that evening, with the boxes now mostly unpacked, I sit at Bess, my fingers resting on her keys. I look over at the view through the living room windows. The sun is beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the trees, the sky streaked with clouds dipped in vibrant colors. I play a few notes and smile to myself.

This is where it’s going to happen. This is my fresh start. This place is where I become the man I always knew I could be.

 

Chapter 3

Clara

“Bring it in, Ms. Amazing Social Media Expert.” My childhood friend, who has recently returned to Maple Falls, has her arms held out wide as she beams at me while standing outside Falling for Books on Main Street. The store is run by my sister’s sister-in-law, Emmy, because this is Maple Falls, where everyone has fewer than two degrees of separation in our limited gene pool.

I step into Bailey’s arms, and she squeezes me tight. “Thanks. But I’m just the social media manager, not exactly an expert.”

She pulls back and smiles at me, her hands on my shoulders. “You’ll be an expert in no time, and you’ll get promoted to Goddess of All Things before the year is out. I just know it.”

I let out a laugh. “I’m not sure Goddess of All Things is an actual job title, at least not at the Ice Breakers.”

She gives me another squeeze. “Isn’t it just so great that we’re both working for the League these days?”

“You’re seasoned at this, having been bounced around the country on different teams. Me? Total novice.”

As usual, my friend looks totally polished in a pair of jeans and a pale blue jacket, her blonde hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders, the smattering of freckles across her nose just the same as they were back in high school.

“Hey there,” Bailey says, leaning down to my son’s height. “You’re Benny, right?” she asks and he nods. “I haven’t see you since last Christmas. I think you’ve grown three feet since then.”

Benny beams with pride, despite the fact he’s probably grown only three inches in the past nine months.

I gesture at the entrance. “Shall we head in? Benny wants a comic book to celebrate me getting my new job.”

“What a wonderful mom you have,” Bailey says.

“She’s okay,” Benny replies before bounding into the store.

Bailey quirks an eyebrow. “High praise indeed.”

“That’s mom life for you,” I reply on a sigh.

We step inside the store and immediately, I’m hit by the smell of coffee and sweet baked goods wafting in the air from the coffee shop at the back of the store.

“Coffee? My treat to celebrate your new job,” Bailey offers as we follow Benny through the books to the comic section. “Or would you prefer a comic book?”

I laugh. “Coffee would be great. Thanks, Bailey.”

We reach the counter where we’re greeted by Maple Falls’ queen of cupcakes, Neesha, along with Emmy, aka Keira’s sister-in-law and the owner of Falling for Books.

Limited gene pool, remember?

“Hey, Clara. Mrs. McCluskey told me about the new job. That’s awesome!” Emmy says with a broad smile.

“Yeah, congratulations,” Neesha says.

“Thanks a lot,” I reply, not in the least surprised to learn that they’ve already heard about my new position. Even the tiniest piece of news travels faster than a road runner on an exercise kick in this town, particularly if Mary-Ellen McCluskey is involved.

“By the sounds of things, you’re going to be getting up close and personal with all those hunky hockey players,” Emmy says with a waggle of her eyebrows.

I laugh. Emmy and Dawson Hayes have been together for ages. Dawson was one of the first batch of Ice Breakers to hit town, the ones who played for charity. And just like my sister, Keira, she’s ridiculously happy and loved-up these days.

It’s nice for some.

“Emmy, remind me. Aren’t you engaged to a hunky hockey player?” I tease.

“Sure am,” Emmy replies, her eyes soft. “You know there’s a new bunch of guys in town now that the Ice Breakers are part of the League. You could snag one of them for yourself. That’s what I told Neesha.”

Neesha rolls her eyes. “She did. Not that I listened. I’m not interested in hockey players”

“Good for you,” I say to her.

Being practically the only single female residents left in this town under the age of thirty-five, I’m positive both Neesha and I are going to be matched up with the new guys in town, whether we like it or not.

“Never say never, Clara,” Emmy says.

“I say never, and so does the non-fraternization clause in my new employment contract,” I reply.

Emmy’s features drop. “Seriously?”

“That’s too bad,” Bailey adds.

I scrunch up my nose. “Is it?”

“I don’t know. It might just be that I have a certain bias toward hockey players,” Emmy replies.

“Enough hockey talk. What can I get you two ladies?” Neesha asks.

“What flavor cupcakes do you have today?” I ask.

“Cookies and cream, raspberry and white chocolate, maple and walnut, and a new recipe I’m trying out: key lime,” Neesha replies proudly.

“Key lime,” both Bailey and I say in unison. “And two lattes, please,” I add.

I glance over to see Benny rifling through the small comic book collection Emmy has at the bookstore, searching for whatever title he decides I need to buy him next. He’s already amassed quite the collection, and his current obsession is with a series called The Timekeeper Chronicles. I don’t get it, but he loves it, and that’s what matters.

Bailey and I take a seat at one of the small tables within eyesight of him, hanging our jackets over the backs of the wooden chairs.

“So, tell me everything about this new job of yours.”

“Well, I’ll be responsible for all the social media activity for the team, starting with creating a content schedule so I can plan what to post, and when and where to post it. Then I’ll create the content to post. I’ll be monitoring analytics from them as well as staying updated on social media trends and platform changes. I’ll need to collaborate with graphic designers for visual assets, responding…to…fans…” I trail off when I notice Bailey’s eyebrows are raised. “What?”

“I just want to know the fun part.”

“What do you mean? That is the fun part.”

“No, I mean things like getting the players to do TikTok dances or trick shot challenges. That kind of thing.”

“Trick shot challenges?” I ask as I pull my phone from my purse and add it to my list entitled Ice Breaker Engagement Ideas. “I like that.”

“Not the TikTok dances? Those would be a lot of fun. Those big, sporty guys doing all those dance moves is a real crowd pleaser. The social media manager did a bunch with the teams I’ve worked with before.”

“Maybe?” I say elusively as I place my phone down on the table.

“What does that mean?”

I shrug. “It’s been done before.”

“Because they can be so good! Look at these.” It’s Bailey’s turn to get out her phone, and she pulls up a bunch of videos of hockey players dancing to different degrees of synchronized success. “See? You’ve got to do some with the team. People will go crazy for them.”

Neesha delivers our coffee and cupcakes, and we thank her. “Let me know what you think of the key lime flavor,” she says.

“We will,” Bailey and I chant, and she makes her way back to the counter where Mary–Ellen McCluskey is waiting.

I shoot her a quick wave before I return my attention to my friend.

“Do you really have a non-fraternization clause in your employment contract?” Bailey asks as she takes a sip of her coffee.

“Sure do. And besides, after the drama that is my ex, I’ve got zero interest in meeting some new guy.”

“Even if he’s a hot hockey player?”

“Especially if he’s a hot hockey player,” I say with a laugh. “They’re not exactly known to be one-woman men.”

“There are a couple players from the New York City Blades in this year’s team, including the Ice Breakers’ new captain.”

“Jamie Hayes. I’ve been studying up. I’ve got a spreadsheet with stats on all the guys, including photos of them all so I know who they are when I meet them Monday, as well as the sorts of things they’ve done on social media before. One of the guys on the team got pranked in one of those ‘snake in the cooler’ things last season. The video went viral.”

“Is that when someone places a fake snake in a cooler and someone videos the player’s reaction when they open it up to get a drink?” she asks, and I nod. “You’ve got to admit that sounds a lot more fun than spreadsheets and monitoring analytics.”

I shrug as I lift my coffee to my lips and take a sip. “It’s all part of the job.”

“What does Mystery Man think?”

I mentioned the guy I’ve been chatting with online for the last few months to Bailey when we were messaging once, and she asks after him every time, always calling him Mystery Man, even though I’ve pointed out more than once his name is Warrior.

Well, not his real name. I don’t know who he is exactly because we both use pseudonyms—mine is L_Hill after author Laura Hillenbrand, who is a total CFS warrior like me, and his is ChronicWarrior88, although he hasn’t said why. Was he born in ’88? Is it his favorite number? I’ve no clue.

What I do know is the man. His essence. His soul. We’ve connected on everything from the music we like to listen to, to our shared passion for the show The White Lotus and all its truly horrible characters, to how many marshmallows you should add to your hot chocolate. Three is the answer, by the way, because two is too few and four is way too many.

And Warrior agrees.

So really, as far as I’m concerned, we know everything about each other that matters—marshmallows in hot chocolate included. What his actual name is and what he looks like feels immaterial at this point.

“Warrior thinks it’s fantastic that I’m taking the job. He says he’s a hockey fan and went to some of the Ice Breaker games here in town.”

Her eyebrows ping up to meet her hairline. “He’s local?”

“He lives in Portland.”

“You know, Portland isn’t that far away. You could go for a visit,” she leads.

The thought has my heart beating harder in my chest, which of course my friend picks up on immediately.

“Clara, what’s the point of this guy if you’re not going to actually meet him?”

I shrug, feeling ridiculous. “I don’t know.”

The fact of the matter is I’m not ready to meet Warrior, even if he might turn out to be my dream guy. Chatting online, enjoying our easy companionship, sharing parts of my life with him, feels easy. Safe. I’ve only ever loved one man in my life, and when he left me and the kids, I felt like my world had ended.

The idea of opening myself up fully and completely again after all this time is terrifying.

“You can’t hide behind a computer screen all your life, chatting with some guy you’ve never met, you know.”

I lift my coffee and take a sip. “Sure, I can.”

Bailey shakes her head at me and opens her mouth to reply when Ashlyn Thompkins appears beside our table, looking gorgeous in a pair of jeans and a pink shirt, her jacket draped across her arm.

“Hey, girls. How are my favorite childhood neighbors?” she says with a smile, her light brown hair in a messy bun, her gorgeous green eyes shining.

“You’re back in town, Ashlyn?” Bailey asks, bouncing out of her seat and giving her a quick hug.

“Just for a while,” she replies.

“Ashlyn’s staying with her parents’ next door,” I tell Bailey.

“Just like old times, then,” Bailey replies. “Have you two been playing in the treehouse much?”

“Of course we have. We’ve had at least three tea parties there this week, right, Clara?” Ashlyn says, and I laugh.

“We sure knew how to live back then,” I say.

“That might be true, but I tell you something: this town does not change one little bit,” Ashlyn says, looking around the store.

“Sure, it does. We got a new teacher at the elementary school a few years back, and we got a new stop sign at the top of Main Street. And don’t forget these key lime cupcakes Neesha’s making,” I say, holding it up. “They’re delicious, by the way.”

Ashlyn laughs. “Maple Falls is rivaling LA for dynamism and excitement, I see.”

“Would you like to join us?” I offer.

“Another time. I’m on a mission right now. Just popped in for coffee,” she replies. “See you both soon.” She flashes us her smile and saunters away.

“I haven’t seen her in years,” Bailey says. “You two were close back in the day.”

“We were. It’s nice to have her back.” I take a bite of my cupcake and let out a sigh at the sweet lime-iness of it. “Oh, this is so good. We’ll have to tell Neesha.”

“Hey, who’s that guy talking to Benny?” Bailey asks.

“What guy?” I ask around my mouthful, and I snap my attention across the store to see Benny talking with a big guy who’s leaning down, listening to whatever it is Benny is telling him.

Immediately, with my mom-spidey senses on high alert, I leap out of my seat and scramble over to the comic section.

“…but why doesn’t he fight back?” Benny is asking the man, who I notice is young enough to be about my age, give or take, and is looking intently at my son as though he’s actually deeply involved in the conversation, not just humoring him.

“Because his powers get captured by Xerces, who’s keeping them in an iron box held deep within the mountain,” the man replies, as though that’s a perfectly normal sentence to come out of a fully grown man’s mouth.

I clear my throat as I slide my hands protectively over Benny’s shoulders.

“Oh, hi, Mommy,” Benny says, glancing at me momentarily before he returns his attention to his comic book—and the man.

“What are you guys talking about?” I ask lightly, narrowing my eyes at the man, my subtext being who are you and why the heck are you talking with my son?

The man shifts his attention from Benny to me, and as he does, he rises to his full height, all six feet whatever. He’s tall, way taller than me, and, I admit begrudgingly, he’s handsome. With his sandy blond hair kinda scruffy and a touch too long in that effortless, I-woke-up-handsome kind of way, his strong jawline is covered in a cropped beard with a few specks of salt and pepper that somehow works on him. My guess is he’s mid-thirties, maybe older, and he’s got the kind of face that makes your stomach do a slow flip.

In fact, he looks a little like a blond Jacob Elordi, as well as…familiar.

Yeah, definitely familiar.

“You must be Benny’s mom,” he says, his voice deep and sonorous, his gray eyes pinning me in place.

I tighten my hold on Benny’s shoulders, lifting my chin in a vain attempt to appear taller than my five feet three inches against this…this…handsome giant. A handsome giant who thinks it’s okay to talk with young boys they don’t know in bookstores.

“I am Benny’s mom. And you are?” I ask pointedly.

His ludicrously handsome face morphs into a smile as he extends one of his huge hands toward me. “Cade Lennox. Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

Ma’am? Oh, no, he did not just ma’am me!

How old does this guy think I am?

I’m too busy gaping at him to respond, and after a beat, he pulls his hand away, giving me a sheepish smile.

“I was talking with Benny here about the latest comic in the The Timekeeper Chronicles. We’re both fans,” he explains. “It’s great that this bookstore gets the comics. I’m new in town and this is a big find for me. I thought I’d have to order them online, which just isn’t the same.”

“Well, that’s very nice of you, Mr.—” I’m about to say “Elordi” when it snaps into place who this guy is. He’s the right winger for the newly minted Ice Breakers. In fact, I’ve got a picture of him in his New York City Blades uniform in my spreadsheet at home. His most recent season stats float before my eyes. Thirty-seven goals, twenty-four assists, average slapshot over 100 mph, and forty-two penalty minutes, mostly for chirping at refs, which he has a reputation for doing.

“Lennox,” he finishes for me, shooting me a look that seems to ask whether my brain is functioning properly.

“I just worked out who you are.”

“Because I told you who I am already?” he asks, his eyes dancing, and there’s something in his tone that has me narrowing my gaze.

Wait. Is this guy flirting with me?

“You know, just before, when I said my name is Cade Lennox.” He waggles his brows playfully.

Oh, yes, he’s definitely flirting with me. And in front of Benny, too! Does this guy have no boundaries? No shame?

And then it all falls into place.

My research went beyond player stats and into their personal lives, and my research on this guy told me that Cade Lennox is not only a talented winger who’s helped his team make it to the playoffs three years running, but he is the biggest hockey-playing womanizer to walk the earth.

And with the reputation a lot of these hockey players seem to have, that’s saying something.

I extend my hand to shake his, channeling my inner businesswoman. As he takes my hand in his, his large hand completely dwarfs my own, making me feel even smaller.

“I’m Clara Johnson, social media manager for the Ice Breakers. Or at least I will be on Monday.”

My eyes drop momentarily to his T-shirt, which has an image of one of the characters from Benny’s favorite comic book series.

Huh. He’s a womanizing hockey player who looks like a blond Jacob Elordi and wears comic book T-shirts like he’s a character on The Big Bang Theory? Talk about a dichotomy.

“I guess that means we’ll be working together,” he says.

I press my lips together, doing my best to ignore the way the combination of his gaze and the warmth of his hand is making my pulse quicken. “That’s right.”

“Cool,” he replies, his lips pulling into an easy smile.

“Cool,” I repeat, wishing I could come up with something more, well, more like what an actual adult would say.

But it’s hard to think straight when someone as attractive as Cade Lennox is holding your hand in his and looking at you with those gray eyes, looming over you, all big and…there.

It’s a lot.

But he’s a womanizing professional hockey player. And I’m a ma’am.

The thought is enough to snap me out of whatever this thing is between us.

Benny twists his head to look up at me. “Mommy, you’ve gone pink. Are you hot?”

I don’t look at Cade Lennox.

“I’m fine, Benny. Say goodbye to Mr. Lennox and come have a cupcake with Bailey.”

“But I want to get this comic book,” he whines.

“I’ll get it for you after,” I grind out.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Hey, great to meet you, Benny. And remember, Zara Kazan is the true hero of the series. Or rather, the true heroine,” Cade Lennox says to my son.

“Nah-uh. It’s Max Griffin. Everyone knows that,” Benny insists.

“Let’s go,” I say, and as I lead Benny to the table, I take a quick look back at the guy, only to see him smiling at me, his eyes lit up with playfulness like a string of fairy lights.

And my dang belly gives a little flip.

 

Offside and Off-Limits releases on August 20th