Home for the Holidays (Power Play Off the Ice: Snowed In for the Holidays)
Chapter 1
one
. . .
Rachel
My stupid fucking boyfriend is a stupid fuckface.
Then again, that’s not really news . He’s always been a stupid fuckface. I just didn’t see it.
Six and a half years. That’s how long I wasted on that asshole.
It wasn’t all bad. There were good moments in there. That’s how he was able to keep me shackled to him for that long Hell, he finally asked me to move in with him late last year, convincing me he was actually ready to commit. He kept stringing me along, promising things like marriage and babies, taunting me with a future he had no intention of ever following through on. So: I’m thirty-one, I’m single, and I’m suddenly homeless, because I can’t stand the sight of his stupid fucking face for one goddamn minute more.
Oh, and it’s the holidays.
All of my friends are coupled up. I could crash with them for a day or two, but the constant sex noises when I am decidedly not getting any really don’t help with my piss-poor mood.
“I’ve got a solution,” Mom tells me over our weekly Zoom call.
I’m crashing at my friends Arielle and Asher’s place, and they’ve gone out for the evening on a date. I’ll have to sleep with my noise-canceling headphones on. They weren’t quiet back when Arielle and I lived together in our old apartment; I can’t ask them to keep it down when I’m a guest in their house.
I roll my eyes. “I’m not moving home, Ma.”
“Psh.” She waves a hand at me. “I wasn’t going to suggest it.”
Except she has—repeatedly. Technically, I could work a hybrid schedule, teaching a few days a week, being in the lab as much as possible, and spending the rest of the time in New Hampshire with her, but commute aside, the idea is less than ideal.
“The Lewis boy,” she says.
I frown. “Josh? My high school boyfriend?”
We haven’t talked to each other in years. Sometimes I go home for the High Holy Days, and we might chat a bit in the lobby of the temple, but it’s been at least five years since I’ve seen him.
“No, the other one. The cute one, with the curly hair.” She sighs and shakes her head. “Anyway, I was talking to Becky Lewis at temple the other day, and she mentioned her boy lives in Boston now.”
Squinting, I try to remember which of Josh’s brothers she’s talking about. One is a hockey player, at least last I heard, and the other is… kind of a nerd.
Jeremy was on the debate team and did Model U.N. We were in the robotics club together my senior year. I think he was a sophomore that year, so we didn’t interact much more than Josh and I driving him home from school things. From what I can remember, he was fine.
Well. I like nerds. I can handle nerds. It totally won’t be awkward that I dated his older brother fifteen years ago. Hell, I haven’t even talked to Josh since college. There were a couple of times we ran into each other at home over summer break, and we were always amicable, but we were never going to have that epic love story I dreamed about.
We were in high school. We dated. We went to college. We broke up.
That’s it. That’s the whole story.
“ Anyway ,” Ma says, “the Lewis boy has an extra room in his apartment. Becky says he’s never home, always traveling for work. You’d practically have the place for yourself.”
“How much is the rent?” I have a bit saved up, but the rental market is slim picking this time of year. It may take a while before I’m able to find a place on my own—even if that’s with roommates.
“Don’t worry about that,” Ma says.
I roll my eyes. “I kind of have to make sure I can afford it.”
“Well, Becky didn’t tell me an amount,” she snaps. “Do you want the boy’s number or not?”
“Yes, please,” I mumble.
There’s a spring in my step as I head into the lab. I haven’t felt this buoyant in the weeks since Erik dumped me over dinner.
We were sitting on the couch, eating Thai food, when he announced that he was bored and wanted to try something new. I thought he meant a new Thai place. Or maybe even a new sex position, because let’s face it, that was getting a little old.
No. He meant new . He didn’t want me anymore. He was done.
But I won’t let that fuckface ruin this gorgeous day.
The sun is shining, it’s a beautiful fall day with the faintest crisp to the air, and I have our monthly staff meeting today—which means I get donuts .
I love donuts, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t let myself eat them outside of staff meetings or other occasions when they are provided for me. After an unfortunate few months in grad school that led me to gaining thirty pounds and spending way too much money at Dunkin’, I had to cut myself off. It was a necessary fact of life, even if I’m still not happy about it.
Erik refused to buy me donuts. He didn’t want me to lose my figure .
What he didn’t understand is that it’s my body and I’m the one living in it. If I want to be a size six or a size sixteen or even a size twenty-six, that’s up to me; he doesn’t get to enforce his “body standards” on me.
“You look happy,” Hattie says when I swing into the conference room.
“I am.” I look over the selection of pastries on the table. There’s no donuts, just croissants, cookies, and muffins. “I was . Where are the donuts?”
“Jan wanted to try a new bakery.” Hattie winces. “I’m sorry .”
“It’s not your fault, you didn’t do anything.”
“I know. I’m still sorry.”
“You’re so Canadian.” I shake my head with a smile.
No matter how many times we’ve stared in the mirror together and repeated our mantra—I am a badass bitch — she still feels the need to apologize for everything. It’s the Ottawa upbringing, she says.
“We’ll go out for lunch,” she offers. “I’ll buy you a donut.”
“Thanks, babe.”
As the rest of the staff files in for the meeting, we dig into the pastries—still delicious, even if they aren’t donuts—and discuss the projects on our plate. The industry is winding down for the year. We get three full weeks off at the end of the year, plus there’s the holiday party and a few things with our clients.
It’ll be nice to have some time to relax and recalibrate. Maybe find a new apartment. Maybe I’ll even get a cat.
All I have to do is call the Lewis kid.