7. Moose
Chapter seven
Moose
I took a deep breath as I stood at the Sentinel Hotel's grand ballroom entrance. The transformation of the space into a holiday wonderland was stunning. The Portland Lumberjacks' first Christmas party for team and staff was about fifty worlds away from the depressing dorm socials I attended in college. There, a wilting poinsettia and a sad 3-foot-tall artificial tree with a string of half-burnt-out lights were the twin pinnacles of sophistication.
Straight ahead of me, a hundred or more crystals hung from a massive chandelier. Garlands of deep-green pine wound around pillars tied off by festive red and white ribbons. The room smelled like a Christmas carol, a warm melody of evergreen, cinnamon, and clove.
At the far end, a towering Christmas tree rose at least fifteen feet toward the ceiling, decked with ornaments showing our team logo.
My heart raced. It was my first major social team event since being hired, and the stakes were high. Would the other staff welcome me with open arms? Or was I still an outsider? Did I really belong in the rarefied world of top-level professional sports?
I straightened my tie. The suit I splurged on for the event felt strange. It fit me better than any formal clothes I'd ever owned, but part of me longed for the comfort of an old college T-shirt and jeans with threadbare knees.
As I scanned the room, I saw multiple familiar faces—Sergei's stoic countenance, Coach Fraser's hint of a holiday grin, and Blaise looking mischievous. Perky holiday music played in the background while light chatter filled the air. Finally, I spotted the man I most wanted to see—Finn.
He stood by a massive ice sculpture of the team logo. My breath caught in my throat, but his presence comforted me, kicking my insecurities to the curb.
I took another deep breath, held my head high, and strolled into the room. Regardless of the doubts nagging at the base of my brain, I was there. I was part of the Portland Lumberjacks. It was my new world, as terrifying and exhilarating as that might be.
"Moose! Get your butt over here!" Sergei's gruff voice cut through the music and the chatter. He stood by a buffet table, sampling what looked like shrimp on crackers.
I wove past small groups of players, staff, and their plus-ones, nodding and smiling along the way. "Are you trying to spread your cheerful personality around, old man?"
Sergei briefly smiled, and I worried his weathered face might crack. "Oh, they all know me. I'm the old news in this organization. Still, the food tastes nice. Watch out for Blaise, too much eggnog already."
I laughed and accepted a glass of champagne from a passing server. "And I'm to believe an aging Russian is the model of sobriety?
His eyes twinkled. He leaned in close, his breath smelling of peppermint and vodka. "You know, back home, this party would just be getting started. It would be about time for the arm wrestling match."
"Arm wrestling? Do you do that before or after you ride the bears?"
Sergei's eyes narrowed briefly in mock offense before he laughed. "I like you, Moose. You don't take shit from me. Instead, you throw it back." He clapped me on the shoulder, and the force nearly made me spill my champagne. "So, how are you settling in? This isn't the same as tree-hugging in the forest."
His concern was almost like a bear hug. "It's an adjustment, but I'm learning. You guys aren't so bad, and I don't have to try the latest scary seaweed snacks and insect bars."
"Eh, we're okay." Sergei shrugged. "Remember, in hockey, like in your lifetime, keep your head up and your stick on the ice."
I nodded and then rubbed my chin; I was not quite sure what he was getting at, but I appreciated his attempt to share a nugget of wisdom. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks."
Sergei waved a hand toward one side of the room. "Don't let me keep you. I think someone is waiting to talk to you."
I turned and saw Finn glancing at me. He quickly averted his eyes when he spotted me looking back.
"Go on," Sergei insisted. "Life's too short for maybes."
I'd barely moved, maybe three steps toward Finn, when a hand touched my elbow. "Moose, can you take a moment?" It was Dr. Chen, the team's psychologist, with her glasses halfway down the bridge of her nose.
I did my best not to let my disappointment show. "Sure, Doc. Is there something on your mind?" I snickered lightly, and she followed suit.
"I wanted to speak with you before you got swept into the festive activities. Can we step aside for a moment?"
I followed her to a quieter part of the ballroom, the laughter and clinking glasses muffled by a thick fabric curtain. She studied my expression.
"How are you adjusting to your new position?" She pushed her glasses back up her nose. "You've changed your career path dramatically, and I wondered how you're handling it."
I was a little caught off guard. "It is different. Sometimes, I feel like I'm running to catch up, learning both the hockey jargon and the marketing lingo. Still, it's a fun challenge. The people here are great."
"And the charity drive. How did that go?"
I was grateful to switch away from personal matters. "We're off to a strong start. The protein bar promo is doing particularly well. We'll have much to give to our supported causes."
"That's all great. I've heard a few interesting comments about the taste of those bars."
I grinned. "Well, hey, we never promised that saving the planet was delicious."
"Indeed." Dr. Chen chuckled softly. "Keep up the good work, and remember, it's okay to let your guard down sometimes. You might be surprised by the depth of support you have here."
After the good doctor turned to move on, I thought I might finally get to say hi to Finn, but I was wrong. Coach Fraser stepped up to me. He looked smart and sharp in his suit. "Moretti, I'm glad to see you mingling. I've heard good comments so far."
"Thank you for that. It's been like getting caught up in a whirlwind so far, but I've loved every minute of it.
He sipped at a glass of punch, and I wondered whether Sergei spiked it with Russian vodka. "Good man. It's always good to bring in people with fresh perspectives."
We chatted a bit about the community outreach projects. While he spoke, I glanced beyond his shoulder to see Finn moving to the massive dessert table. He was eyeing an elaborate gingerbread hockey rink.
When Coach Fraser gave me an opening, I excused myself and headed toward Finn. He tried to stick a fingertip into the frosting surreptitiously.
"Hey, I hear that's not on the team's approved diet list."
Finn nearly jumped out of his skin, but he smiled when he realized it was me. "What makes you think I was planning to eat it? I'm admiring the craftsmanship."
"It is quite a creation, but I don't know if I can vouch for the sturdiness of those gingerbread boards. One hard slam, and they might crumble."
He quickly stuck a frosting-coated finger in his mouth. "One little taste won't hurt me." A tiny, sugary dollop clung to his lower lip when he pulled the finger back. I fought back my desire to taste it with my lips.
I struggled to find something clever to say. "So, how are you linking your first NHL Christmas party?"
"It's like Mom's open house on steroids. I'll miss her ugly sweater contest, though."
I laughed as I considered how Finn would look in a tasteless, oversized sweater with dancing elves. "Maybe I can add that to the agenda next year. Sergei could rock a light-up reindeer number."
"Oh, God." Finn chuckled. "That image is gonna stick in my mind.
We both fell silent again, eyes darting around the ballroom. It was hard to ignore how close we stood. Stretching my pinkie finger out could bridge the gap.
Finn spoke. "You know, I've been meaning to thank you."
"Thank me? What'd I do?"
Our eyes met. "For making me feel welcome. This is the big time in hockey, the fucking NHL. I've been a little overwhelmed, but you're always there. You check in to make sure I'm doing okay. I can't thank you too much for that."
"Well, of course. It's what you do when you're on the same team, right?"
"Right." He echoed the word while my palms started to sweat.
I gathered my courage. "Finn, I—"
He interrupted me with a slightly shaky voice. "Hey, want to try the eggnog? I hear Sergei's spiked it. That stuff might kill us."
The sudden change of subject startled me. I blinked hard. "Um, sure, of course. Why shouldn't we live dangerously?"
We reached for the ladle simultaneously, and his hand brushed against mine. "Oops," I whispered, and our eyes met.
Finn's tongue darted out to moisten his lips, and I began to lean toward him, drawn by a magnetic force. That's when Blaise blurted out, "Look who's under the mistletoe!"
I looked up, and my heart pounded. Sure enough, a sprig of plastic mistletoe hung from a garland positioned above the punchbowl. The nearby conversations ceased, and dozens of heads turned to watch us.
Finn didn't let it stop us, so I followed his lead. I smelled vanilla from the frosting on his breath, only inches away. Our lips were about to meet when Axel's voice interrupted.
"Okay, okay, you can do that in private later. Is everybody ready for the gift exchange?"
He'd shattered the moment. Finn stepped back. "I, uh, better go and get my Secret Santa gift." He hurried away.
I sighed heavily. I'd nearly forgotten about the presents in the heat of the moment. I had to retrieve my gift, too.
Coach Fraser's voice suddenly boomed over the PA system. "It's time for the main event, Lumberjacks. Everybody gather 'round the tree."
I joined the rest of the players and staff, holding the carefully wrapped package I brought. I'd drawn Sergei's name. I was stumped about what to get for a while until I saw a set of gourmet vodkas from Portland's local distilleries. It seemed like a perfect match.
As I settled into a spot near the tree, I looked around for Finn. He was about ten people away from me.
Sam hosted the festivities. "Okay, folks, we're going to try to do this in alphabetical order by first name. I hope it doesn't get too wild. Axel, you get to open your gift first."
He grumbled slightly as he found his way to the center of the crowd. He tore into the gift wrap to unveil a cardboard box. A garish tie covered in tiny hockey sticks and pucks was inside. "Honestly," he muttered, holding it up to widespread applause.
"You're welcome!" Blaise called out. "Thought you could use some color in your wardrobe.
The exchange proceeded with laughter, good-natured jokes, and a few moments of warm-hearted appreciation. Blaise got a Hockey for Dummies book, Dr. Chen received a hot water bottle to nestle around her neck, and Coach Fraser unwrapped a gift card for one of Portland's premier steakhouses.
When it was Finn's turn, I watched closely. He carefully opened a small box and pulled out a beautifully crafted glass Christmas tree ornament. It featured a hand-painted winter scene with a frozen lake surrounded by snow-covered pine trees.
"It's so beautiful. Who…?"
Quinn spoke up. "I confess. I thought you might enjoy a piece of Minnesota while you're away. I hear those frozen lakes are quite something this time of year."
Finally, it was my turn. I stepped forward, and, for some reason, I was nervous. I unwrapped my gift to discover a book, The Hidden Life of Trees .
Finn spoke up. "That's from me. You told me about your environmental science work. I thought this might be a nice bridge between the old career and your new one."
He left me speechless, touched by the thought he put into the gift. "Thank you," I whispered. "It's perfect."
I held the book close to my heart as I returned to my spot in the group. Whether he realized it or not, Finn had given me much more than just a Secret Santa gift. He'd shown me that he listened to me and cared about me. With the notable exception of Quinn as my best friend, I didn't have many people in my life who paid such close attention.
While the party surged with a second wind, everything had changed for me. I was falling for Finn, and judging by the way he kept stealing glances at me, he might have been falling, too.
The holiday celebration finally wound down around midnight, and my teammates and fellow staff began to trickle out in pairs and trios. I lingered to help clean up. I'd survived the big event and took my place in the Portland Lumberjacks family.
When I stepped out into the Portland night, the chilly air sharply contrasted with the ballroom's warmth. Holiday lights lit up the night and reflected off the damp city streets. With Finn's gift tucked securely under my arm, I relived the evening in my mind.
Finally reaching home, I fumbled with my keys at the door. When I managed to step inside, I kicked the door shut behind me and then leaned back against it. "What the hell am I doing?" I asked the empty room.
Moving to the kitchen, I filled a glass of water from the sink. While I swallowed a mouthful, I ran my fingers over the cover of the book Finn gave me. I remembered how his eyes lit up so brightly when I opened it.
The thing developing with Finn—whatever it might be—wasn't just superficial attraction. It was deeper and more profound than that. I knew that it had to be. He understood me in a way so few in my life did. Still, pursuing something could recklessly complicate both of our lives. We would rattle the dynamics of the team and Finn's career…
I groaned. "Pull yourself together, Moretti. You're a man, not some lovesick teenager. Get with the program."
Even as I tried to push myself away from the edge of the cliff, I knew my heart would fight back. In the past, I'd never experienced feelings like I had for Finn. The new emotions were both terrifying and thrilling.
Without thinking, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and let my thumb hover over Finn's name on my contact list—a flood of questions swept through my mind.
Should I text him? Should I thank him for the thoughtful gift? What would I say? I couldn't go with, "Hey, thanks for the book. Also, you need to know I can't stop thinking about how we almost kissed."
I shook my head and set the phone down. We couldn't hash it all out in a texting conversation. We had to talk—real talk—face to face. I knew that was the adult thing to do, but anxiety reared its ugly head when I imagined having the conversation. What if I was wrong about everything? What if Finn only wanted to be casual friends?
A few minutes later, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to fall asleep. The rational side of my brain said dating Finn was a bad idea. I didn't even have my professional sports world sea legs under me yet. It was the time to focus on my job, not a complicated relationship with one of the team's players.
But my heart… told me another story and demanded that I listen. Finn truly saw and understood me, and all indications were that he liked what he saw.