I startle hard enough to nearly honk.
Colby stands outside in the falling snow, holding three hot chocolates in a cardboard tray and wearing the expression of a man who absolutely knows he just scared five years off my life.
Jillie screams.
Not yells.
Screams.
“COLBY!”
He grins. My heart drops directly into my boots.
Because he came. He came early. And he came with hot chocolate.
I roll down the window, still recovering. “Do hockey players usually lurk in elementary school parking lots?”
“Only when invited to high-stakes musical events.”
“You’re early.”
“I was told seating was competitive.”
Jillie is already unbuckling. “It is. Mrs. Young saves seats with her purse and lies about it.”
Colby’s eyebrows lift. “Scandalous.”
“Very.”
I get out slowly, accepting the hot chocolate he hands me because apparently my willpower has no defense against warm beverages and famous men who show up when they say they will.
“You didn’t have to bring these,” I say.
“I know.”
That’s what he always says. Not defensively. Not proudly. Just quietly.
It’s like the wanting to do something matters more than whether anyone asked.
Too easy to want. Too hard to stop.
Inside Briar Cove Elementary, chaos reigns.
Coats hang from every hook. Boots squeak on linoleum. Children dart around in sparkly dresses, button-down shirts,reindeer antlers, and one full snowman costume that looks like a safety hazard. Parents cluster near the cafeteria entrance, whispering, waving, scanning the room for seats and gossip.
The second Colby steps inside, the entire hallway changes.
Not dramatically.
Briar Cove people have dignity. Sort of.
But conversations stutter. Phones appear. A volunteer mom carrying a stack of programs walks directly into a bulletin board. “Oh, my goodness,” she whispers.
Jillie looks up at Colby proudly. “They know you.”
He leans down toward her. “They know your mom too.”
She considers this, then nods. “Because cookies.”
