Page 44 of Tricky Puck

“Call me back in two days,” I tell him, stomping on the ashes of my fluttering butterflies.

“It’s a plan then.”

And just like that, sparks rise from the ashes and I laugh, involuntarily.

It’s a good thing I didn’t tell him about the problem with the heat. Maybe he would have been up here tonight to pick me up and whisk me away. I give myself an inward eyeroll though I probably deserve a smack upside the head for foolish thinking. Especially for liking my foolish thoughts.

Next morning when I turn on the faucet and no water comes out, I screech into the freezing air feeling helpless, like the damsel in distress that I never ever wanted to be.

Heaving a breath of cold air that almost chokes me, I grab my phone and call George. This time he answers and I calmly tell him I have no water.

“I’ll call a handyman I know in the area and tell him it’s an emergency. He’ll have it fixed in no time. I got your message yesterday. I was going to call--”

“What about the heat, George? It’s freezing in here and it’s not even winter yet.”

“Didn’t you see the pellet stove in the living room?”

“Is that what that contraption is?”

“Delaney, you’re a big girl. You can figure it out. There’s a bucket of pellets and⁠—”

“And I’ve never used a pellet stove or even lit a match in my entire life. So if you don’t want me burning down your cabin⁠—”

“I’ll have the handyman show you how to work it. He’ll fix you up.” He pauses and I wait him out because I fear I’m turning into one of those drama queens and I need to calm down.

“I probably should have warned you about the cabin being on the rustic side.”

“True. But I can handle it. In the meantime, I’ll drive into town and get some hot coffee and some water too, while I’m at it. In case.”

“I’ll let you know when my guy can get there. Shouldn’t be long. I promise.”

“Great.”

We end the call and I get myself bundled up for a drive into town —or as bundled as I can for a girl used to city living six hours south of here.

Behind the wheel with my old mittens on—I don’t think I’ve worn them since that high school field trip to Vermont—I fumble my keys and manage to turn them to start the old engine. It turns over slow, like it’s too cold to bother and I try again. When it catches and starts, I stifle the impulse to punch my fist in the air like I’ve won a contest.

Shit. Link’s competitive game playing habit is starting to rub off on me—even when he’s not here. I put the car in gear and back it up. It moves less than ten feet when a loud thud sounds and the back of the car tilts to the right. That isn’t good. I get out and go around back to look under the car as if I can see what’s wrong—or do anything about it even if I find the problem.

Shit. I dirtied my jeans and old mittens all to find out there’s a broken rod or axel of some kind between the back wheels. Now I’m stuck with no coffee and no heat for who knows how long.

Storming back inside the cabin before I freeze, my mind automatically goes to Link. Tearing off my mittens, my fingers itch to reach for my phone to call him, but I can’t. It just isn’t in me to play that role—fucking damsel in distress.

Besides, I doubt he’d appreciate it. He said he’s not into melodrama and I believe him. Neither am I.

Fifteen

LINK

Shoving through the locker room door, I shake it off. It’s quiet in here and I don’t see anyone, so I call out.

“Link in the house. Hide your sisters.” One of the guys on my last team thought it was funny to get me riled up with, but what he didn’t know was that I’d like it.

Delaney doesn’t know how right she is to think of me as a pirate—though more in the style of Robinhood. I steal the gold for good and all the wenches come to me willingly. And the only one in danger of walking the plank is me.

Sabien comes around the corner with a slice of crispy bacon hanging from his mouth.

“I thought I heard you.” He’s grinning and half-dressed in his practice gear to take the ice for our morning pre-game skate. It’s strictly for warming up—and to give Dugan an extra ride around the ice on the Zamboni according to him.