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“That’s exactly what you looked like every time you should’ve been in English class,” Blaze says.
Ryder makes a face of mock offense. “Hey! I’ll have you know, after you graduated and I met Candance, I got A’s and B’s my last two semesters.”
Shane’s mouth is still hanging open. “I can’t believe Blaze Walker is standing in my living room.”
Blaze is on a hot streak of all hot streaks this year, one of the top scorers in the NHL.
Apparently, the guys realized they all coincidentally had a couple days with none of them playing any games at the same time. Cole made a group chat of just them and proposed they surprise us with a visit, and everyone jumped on the idea.
Phoebe comes down, and I introduce her to all the guys, pride beaming in my eyes.
She’s a little bashful around them at first. Understandable when you wake up on a Saturday morning and suddenly find five gigantic professional hockey players unexpectedly standing in your boyfriend’s living room.
But once she realizes that they’re all down-to-earth goofballs, she starts to feel more comfortable. I can tell the guys love her.
We spend a couple hours just hanging around. Me, Liam, and the new guys have plenty to tell our former teammates about how our season has gone so far. And, of course, of all of them are an endless spout of stories about what it’s like playing in the pro leagues.
After eleven, Liam proposes an early lunch at the only place we can consider going with our old roommates stopping by like this: Lucky Chang’s, the Chinese restaurant where we ate hundreds of meals together when these guys were Ridley students.
Mrs. Lee, Lucky Chang’s owner, is as shocked as I was when we all walk through the door. She got to know all these guys well over the years. Ryder even worked here part time during the Fall semester of his senior year.
We all manage to squeeze into a giant sectional booth.
“Fuck, I missed this,” Ryder says, diving into his pork lo mien.
Blaze grunts in agreement, his mouth full of General Tso’s Chicken. “No Chinese food anywhere else in the world tastes the same.”
After an inhuman amount of food is polished off, Grant of course gets excited when Mrs. Lee delivers our pile of fortune cookies. Grant takes fortune cookies very, very seriously.
I crack mine open and read the message.
You may have found your future long ago.
I sigh a laugh, shaking my head with a smile on my face. After all these years, I may have to admit it: Grant might be right. These fortunes seem to always say the right thing at the right time.
With my arm around Phoebe, I pull her closer to my side. I found my future a long time ago, alright: the day I stepped into that hockey rink in my hometown and saw a red headed girl on skates who took my breath away.
Tristan looks at Phoebe and me and crooks us a smile. “No simmering troubles between you two? Might as well get it out of the way while I’m here, if so.”
I crack up, hunching over. Back when Tristan was at Ridley, whenever one of the guys ran into trouble in their relationship—usually their own fault—Tristan would give them a pep talk and set them straight on what they needed to do. Who knows how most of these guys’ lives would’ve ended up if not for him.
For once, though, his services won’t be needed.
“Not this time, Tristan,” I say, tugging Phoebe close and wiping a tear of laughter from my eye. “But thanks for the offer.”
Phoebe looks at me quizzically. “Huh? Did I miss an inside joke or something?”
I kiss her on the cheek. “I’ll explain it later, babe.”
38
PHOEBE
It’s Christmas Eve.
A light snow is falling, there’s a crisp chill in the air but no wind to make it uncomfortable, there’s a pair of skates on my feet, clean and smooth ice beneath the blades, and my hand is snug in Hunter’s.
After dinner with our families, we drove to an outdoor skating rink about twenty minutes outside of Wynhill, our hometown.
