“Trying to change the subject since we will have to agree to disagree that you deserve to be treated with at least a bare minimum of respect.”
Zayne’s houseis warm and loud and chaotic, exactly the kind of place a normal person would love to be in for the holiday—teammates yelling over each other, Christmas lights flickering out of sync, holiday music blaring over the speakers.
But my jaw is tight, and the weight of what I’m about to do hums low in my chest like a warning. “I don’t know why you’re bothering to decorate this place,” I mutter to Ellie as I pass, eyeing the tangled garland and precarious string of lights someone duct-taped to the mantel.
“You should’ve seen it before we cleaned, Coach,” Bramms chirps.
“Did you clean it?” Harlowe deadpans, pulling a sock from behind the couch.
“I told you to move the couch!” Carlsson yells at the rookies, who all suddenly find the floor fascinating.
Zayne’s wearing a Santa hat, happily humming to the Christmas carols blaring from the speakers. Jovi’s setting up, trying to get the bass just right.
Eddie hasn’t come back to the house since the blowup on the rink. I’d say good riddance, but technically, we do need him at the next match.
I glance around then steal a kiss from Ellie behind the tree, just a quick one, hot, needy.
Bramms is already eating the snacks. Carlsson complains loudly.
Ellie jumps away from me, guilty, as he comes over.
“I’m just trying to convince her to trade Eddie,” I say to the Finn, who watches us, eyes narrowed.
“Can we eat? Can we?” Jovi bounces around. He’s been crushing Christmas treats since practice.
The doorbell rings and rings.
“It’s not a party without girls!” Granny Murray bursts in with a ton of young twentysomething women.
“Dayum. Eddie’s gonna be sad he missed this.” Jonesy whoops.
“Merry Christmas, boys!”
“Hey!” Ellie stomps over to them. “This is a private team party.”
“Yeah, Violet,” Harlowe sighs, recognizing the leader of the cousin crew.
Ellie turns to Zayne, her mouth twisting as she introduces her family. “Sorry. Cousins. Second cousins. Sisters. One of them might actually be an aunt.”
“The invite said ‘and family,’” one of the girls says, snapping her gum. “We’re family.”
“We brought liquor!” another one cheers.
“Don’t drink too much!” Ellie shouts after them as they flood the room like glittery locusts.
Zayne looks out happily over the crowd—sober, but still happy.
“This,” he says, taking a sip of mineral water, “this is what it’s all about.”
“What?” I ask, distracted. My eyes are on Dana Holbrook, who just stepped through the front door, a big fur coat wrapped around her white winter pantsuit. I’m barely listening because Ellie is greeting none other than Dana herself.
“Life, Fletch. This is what life’s about,” he says, a little wistful.
“Right.”
“Gonna go say hey to the boss,” I mutter and drift toward Dana. Ellie’s watching me; I can feel it. But I can’t stop. I have a mission.
“We can’t party too late,” Ellie warns. “We have practice tomorrow. This was supposed to be a low-key holiday gathering.”
