Page 3 of Home for the Hockey-Days

It’s temporary. It’s a loan. I’ll pay them back. It’s for the good of the team.

My knuckles are white again around the almost-empty mug in my hands. They all stay until their drinks are empty, and I get by with the occasional grunt as my addition to the conversation. I think they probably know I need to sit with things for a bit.

“You’re in for the holiday parties, right?” Raffi asks, slurping at the dregs of his drink. “Christmas and New Year?”

I know he’s talking to me without lifting my head. The twins are hosting, apparently they love any excuse to throw a shindig. The holiday itself doesn’t even matter. Justin wouldn’t miss it for the world, my dude fucking loves Christmas, so that leaves me. “Maybe.”

In my periphery, Apollo shakes his head at Raffi like he’s telling him not to force it.

“It’d be good if you could.” Apollo adds his own sentiment and mercifully redirects the conversation to something that isn’t about Christmas, the Christmas party, or the snow that’s starting to fall outside the window.

When everyone’s on their way to the door, Artemis hands me a gift card for Bitches Brew.

I arch a brow, because while I’m a grumpy fucker, I’m not a Sagittarius or a Capricorn. December isnotmy birthday month, we don’t do secret Santa on the team or any kind of gift exchange, and these guys know how much I hate being considered a charity case. Especially considering Ijustaccepted their help for tutoring fees.

It doesn’t slip my notice that it’s Artemis, the badassiest of the group, who hands me the small, plastic card, and no one else. That said, it’s kind of cute they probably assume I wouldn’t start something with him.

I could still take him. “What’s this for?” I wave the card back at him.

Artemis shrugs back at me. “Coffee?” Just like that, no big deal, casual, smooth.

A growl rattles in the back of my throat. “I don’t do charity, Artemis. You know that.”

He pats my shoulder. “Merry Christmas? Just take the gift card, Gus. Use it on your tutor if you want to, give it back toTaryn behind the counter, I don’t care. But don’t let your stubbornness and pride stop you from drinking good coffee.”

I fucking hate when they get logical. And the idea of having a few weeks of free coffee is hugely enticing. Christmas is expensive as fuck, especially when you start off broke. I don’t get a lot of gifts, but Mom loves the holiday so much and with Todd gone... I guess I try to overcompensate for his absence by going big with a gift.

I have zero regrets, even if my wallet is crying and filled with nothing but dust mites.

“And write to Rowan.” Artemis gestures at the piece of paper with her name and number on the table. “Today.”

CHAPTER 2

Rowan

Unknown Number: Hey Rowan, my name’s August, I’m a senior at UCR. I hear you have open spaces for tutoring next semester? I’m struggling with, well, everything to be honest. I’m enrolled in both accounting ethics and law and advanced statistics, and could really do with a miracle to help me get through.

I stare at the message and heave out a sigh, reminding myself that I decidednotto take on any tutoring clients this semester. After Christmas, I’m taking some me time. I’m focusing more on my own degree, I’m putting myself first, and I’m not going to let my inner need to help people bulldoze through that boundary.

‘No’ is a complete sentence. Or so I’m told. It’s something I still struggle with almost daily, but it’s okay being a work in progress, right?

The message on the screen pricks at my chest. I don’t have time right now to hit reply, just as well because I’m sure my traitorous thumbs would type out the word yes instead of no.

I swipe the message off my screen and tuck my phone inmy purse. I’m late, and one thing my friend Athena loathes is tardiness. I’d rather make August wait a little bit for my not-a-knee-jerk reply than suffer the wrath of the bestie.

Fuck, it’s really starting to come down out there, and I stupidly left home without a jacket this morning. It’s one of those four-seasons-in-one-day kind of days, it was perfectly pleasant when I stepped outside at 8AM. But now? Flurries of snow drift down onto my car, and I’m starting to hope against hope it’ll stick around long enough for us to have a white Christmas.

I love Christmas, I love snow, andusually, when I have the appropriate clothing with me, I love the cold.

As I pull out of the Target parking lot on Edgewood, my phone rings through the in-car Bluetooth system. It’s Athena. Shocker.

“I’m on my way.” I don’t even say hello, Hen isn’t often one for pleasantries.

“You’re late.”

“I’m not late yet.” I glance at the dash to fact check. I’m right, I’m not late, I have at least two minutes before I’m officially considered tardy.

The light changes at the last second, and the piece of shit car in front of me stops when he really should have gone. It was yellow, he could have made it.

---