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"So, Mayor Z, huh? Power's really gone to your head,” he said as his blue eyes twinkled.
I shook my head. "Yeah, because running town hall meetings and coordinating local bake sales is a real power trip."
Hoss chuckled softly and then spoke in a serious tone. "You know, jokes aside, I'm proud of you. I mean it."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he nodded, reaching over to rest his hand on my arm. "You've got this way of bringing people together, of making them want to be better. It's what you did for the team, and I know it's what you'll do for Cold Pines."
I grinned. "Balance, right? You always keep me honest, and you make sure my head doesn't get too big."
Hoss leaned in to kiss me softly. “It’s a tough job, but someone's gotta do it."
The players soon got wind of my potential new endeavor. "Mayor Z,” they started calling me, chuckling and slapping me on the back as if I'd scored a game-winning goal.
Taylor, once among the youngest players and the man whose quick thinking might have saved Eddie’s life, called for attention. He stood on the bench by his locker, the metal clanking of hockey gear serving as a makeshift drumroll.
“Guys, listen to me,” Taylor's voice boomed, silencing the room. "I've got something to say, and no, it's not about last night's game."
Curious whispers spread around the room.
"It's about Mayor Z here," he continued, pointing a thumb toward me. Laughter erupted, but Taylor's expression was serious.
"Now, I've been on this team for what—six seasons in total? And I can tell you, no one cares more about this team and this town than Coach.”
He nodded in my direction.
"I know we joke about him being mayor," Taylor said, "but I think it's about time we had someone in office who actually gives a damn. So, I don't know about you guys, but he's got my vote."
Silence lingered for a beat, and then the room erupted in cheers and clapping, hockey sticks banging against lockers.
The grin on Taylor's face widened as he turned to me. "So, when's the campaign starting, Mayor Z?"
I shook my head in disbelief, amazed and humbled. "Soon, very soon. Thanks, Taylor."
He shrugged it off like it was nothing, but it was far from that. "No need to thank me. Just promise you'll save me a seat at the inauguration."
"You got it," I said, and the room erupted in laughter again.
My days were even more busy than in the past, but they were fulfilling, too. I took time to volunteer at local charity events, and I walked through downtown Cold Pines, meeting and listening to people. The community had given us so much, and it was time for me to give back in a new way.
Over dinner with our closest friends and family, it became clear how much support there was for my wild idea. It was the core of our tribe; the people at the table believed in me, in us.
Finally, alone in my office, I looked at that puck with "H+P" scratched into it. That puck was more than just a keepsake; it was the embodiment of our relationship, the ties that bound us together.
Was I really going to do this? Could I step into a role that demanded even more of me yet offered a chance to make lasting changes for the town that had become our home?
The office door creaked open, and Hoss walked in. No words needed to be exchanged; he looked at me, then at the puck in my hands, and his eyes narrowed slightly.
"You're thinking about it, aren't you?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.
"Thinking about a lot of things," I admitted, carefully placing the puck back on the shelf, right next to a framed picture of us at our wedding.
Hoss moved closer, standing next to me but not touching, like he was giving me the space to make this big decision. "That puck's seen us through a lot," he said, finally breaking the silence.
"It has," I agreed.
"And wherever it goes, we go," he continued, reaching for my hand.
