Chapter 36
FLETCHER
Everyone’s families crash the locker room when we finally detangle from the press.
Cookie’s mom bursts in first, trailed by what I can only assume are his siblings.
She points a sharp finger at one of them.
“Don’t touch that. I swear if you break anything, I’ll make you scrub floors for a year to pay it off.
Ah, Ellie!” She smiles broadly. “I can’t believe you managed to get him back on the ice after all that—I said don’t fucking touch that,” she yells at one kid.
She drags a toddler off the skate sharpener.
“Whatever you said to him worked. It’s a Christmas miracle!
We got to see our boy skate in his first NHL game. ”
“I like to make learning fun. We believe in positive reinforcement,” Ellie replies with a smile. “And Goldfish crackers.”
“My little goal scorer,” his mom says as Cookie protests while she plants kisses on his forehead. “You need a haircut, sweetie.”
The Finn’s father—tall, Viking-esque, and blond—shakes Ellie’s hand in both of his. He says something long and dramatic in Scandinavian while his son stands beside him nodding proudly. Ellie just smiles and says “Thank you” like she totally understood all of it.
Then Dana struts in like the ghost of Christmas capitalism. She poses in the doorway, arms crossed. I stand up straighter as she surveys us.
“Looks like you’re not a losing investment after all. Since you beat the Harbor Hawks against all the odds—thank you very much, I won a new yacht betting on you—you’re staying,” she announces. “The team isn’t moving to San Francisco.”
The room explodes in cheers. Someone throws a jockstrap in the air like confetti. Carlsson catches it and throws it back in disgust.
“I’m dumping a ton of money into this franchise,” Dana continues.
“Everyone gets a raise. Next season.” The guys groan.
“Provided you all play like this again,” she adds, waving her perfectly manicured hand.
“I expect more wins from you.” Her lip curls.
“You’re lucky you’re not actually in the Direwolves division.
I had to fuck some guy to make that happen. ”
The room goes dead silent.
Ellie’s mother gasps.
Then her sisters cheer. “Goals!”
“She’s so perfect.”
“That boss-bitch energy.”
Dana smirks. “So don’t ever let them tell you that it’s wrong to use sex to get what you want. It’s a very powerful weapon women have in their arsenal. Men don’t want us to use it.”
Granny Murray raises her tequila bottle in approval.
Dana’s gaze swivels to me. “Fletcher Sullivan.”
Ellie appears at my side, slipping her hand into mine.
Dana purses her mouth. “I’m sure your brother has some sort of job lined up for you.” Her nose wrinkles on the word.
“You’re leaving?” Jovi gasps, horror-stricken. “But we won!”
“Of course he’s not leaving.” Dana tosses her hair. “You’re getting a real NHL contract, not this two-way nonsense. And you can tell Hudson I said to go fuck himself.”
“Whoo!”
“Party at my house!” Granny Murray whoops.
“You mean my house.” Ellie’s father sighs.
Ellie’s childhood home is like something out of a set where the perfect family lives.
String lights twinkle everywhere. There’s hot cider, cookies shaped like hockey sticks, and the soft hum of Bing Crosby. It’s a holiday movie.
Of course, I’m sure Walt Disney probably didn’t mean for the perfect family to have an elderly woman hawking condoms and Jell-O shots.
“Oh, Ellie doesn’t need one of those,” one of Ellie’s multitude of aunts says, waving Granny Murray away from me.
“I can’t believe you’re spending all that time playing hockey,” her aunt chides her.
“Poor Ellie will snatch defeat from the jaws of victory and won’t manage to seal the deal until your eggs are all dried up.
Now,” the aunt tells Ellie, “I told your dad to stay out of your room if you and that Fletcher want to celebrate the win.”
Ellie drains her glass then takes two Jell-O shots for good measure. “Thanks, Aunt Babs.”
I make the rounds through Ellie’s loudly curious family. They clap me on the shoulder and offer advice.
“Get those endorsement deals early,” one uncle slurs, poking two fingers in my chest as he talks.
“Being captain’s a big deal, son.”
“Are you in a captain’s group chat?”
“I think maybe you should give it back to Zayne.”
“No, he’s not giving that up.” An elderly man muscles in. “Make them give you a signing bonus!”
“My daughter has a PR company.” A young woman—Violet, I think?—shoves a card in my hand.
“She does! She represents Ryder O’Connell,” the woman yells at someone who is, I’m assuming, her sister.
“Where is Ellie? You like this or this?” someone asks.
“What?” Ellie shouts from across the noisy, crowded room.
“For your new uniforms! You cannot do this burgundy—it clashes with his skin. He’s a winter, not an autumn.”
Ellie makes a helpless gesture. “Call Dana.”
“I’m not calling Dana. You have her number! Call her! Tell her we want a meeting.”
I duck around several small elderly women who are carting a huge roast turkey through the living room, trailed by several boys who whine, “I thought you were going to fry it! Why can’t we have fried turkey? Is there gravy?”
“Gravy!” Jovi says happily as the rest of the team pours into the house.
“Come on.” One of Ellie’s aunts cups his face. “I’ll make you some gravy.”
“Get him some ice! Ice! Get them ice!” A cooler is passed around.
I accept the ice that’s slapped on my wrists and knees then make my way to a far corner of the room by the stairs. Zayne leans against the wall, alone, sipping his punch, watching the chaos with a dopey, happy smile on his face.
“This is just peak Christmas—like pure holiday magic.” He ruffles my hair. “You’re lucky, Fletch, you know that?”
“Yeah.” I watch Ellie arguing with her sister while she dishes up protein-heavy plates for the players and coaxes the Finn to “just try the Jell-O salad.”
“It has marshmallows in it!” he roars.
“And mayonnaise.” Bramms smirks.
I nudge Zayne. “You know,” I tell him, “it’s not too late for you.”
“Eh.” Zayne sips the holiday fruit punch. “I don’t know. Probably. But I’ll be happy with what I have.”
“I think Ellie has some single aunts.” One of them with huge red hair looks over and winks at him. “There’s always Dana,” I snicker. “Can’t say I don’t recommend dating the boss.”
“I think Ren’s got that covered.” He jerks his chin to where Ren, in his wifebeater, is chatting up Dana.
“I don’t date children.” Dana sniffs. “Also, you’re missing half of your teeth. I couldn’t take you anywhere.”
“That’s part of my charm.”
“Dana, I found Ellie a boyfriend! I can do the same for you too!” One of Ellie’s mom’s sisters calls from the crush of Ellie’s family.
“You didn’t find him! I was the one who told her to get with him,” Granny Murray hollers.
“Mom!” Ellie’s sisters are horrified. “You can’t just find her a boyfriend! You don’t know anyone her caliber.”
“We are so sorry,” they simper to Dana. “She’s so crass.”
“She doesn’t understand your greatness.”
“Of course I do.” Trina swats her daughters with a tea towel then envelops a stunned Dana in a big hug. “I just think she’s doing a great job. You should have someone special to share Christmas with.”
“Don’t let the boys get you down, sister!” Granny Murray thumps her fist on her chest.
“Please excuse our family,” Ellie’s sister begs Dana. “How about some wine?”
Later in the evening, once the noise of the party has mellowed into background laughter and the scent of gingerbread hangs thick in the air, I slip into the kitchen to grab a drink and take a breath. Try to make the ringing in my ears subside. Ellie’s family is worse than a full stadium.
That’s when Nate steps into the doorway and blocks my exit. He’s wiry, built like a goalie—tall. I’m broader than he is, though.
Not that it matters.
I’ve done the meet-the-father thing before. I know what he’s gearing up for.
This is probably the first time that I actually cared, though.
“Fletcher,” he says, folding his arms.
“Sir.” I nod, putting the rum-laced cider down. My mouth’s suddenly dry.
He eyes me, assessing. “I’m not gonna pretend I like this,” he says. “My daughter dating one of her players.”
“Fair,” I mutter.
“But,” he continues, sighing heavily like this is physically painful for him, “you make her happy. And you play like hell for her.”
“I’d do anything for her,” I say quietly.
Nate squints at me then slowly nods. “Just don’t move in with her yet.”
“Also fair,” I say, trying not to smile.
“And if you hurt her—”
“I won’t,” I interrupt.
He holds my gaze. “You better not. She’s my little girl.”
“Dad!” Ellie rushes in, face flushed.
“I’m not threatening,” Nate mutters. “I’m just stating facts about consequences.”
Ellie sighs. “Be nice.”
“Oh, come on,” Aunt Stacey yells from the living room, where she’s got a mimosa in one hand and a Christmas cookie in the other. “Let the man be in love! Fletcher’s a star player now!”
“He scored the game winner!” Harlowe shouts.
“He bleeds for this team!” one of Ellie’s younger cousins says from under the kitchen table, where he’s got a plate of Christmas cookies.
“I like him!” Granny Murray adds as she pours more rum into the holiday punch. “He’s hot! And you should see him in the locker room getting undressed. Lawd! Gather ’round, children, for an early Christmas present! I’ve got nude photos!”
“Gran, you didn’t!” Harlowe protests. “You’re supposed to keep her from taking photos, Ellie! Delete that right now!”
Nate groans and mutters something about needing a stronger cider. Ellie’s cousin grabs the phone as Ellie scrambles to try to hide it.
Her female family members shriek as Ellie chases them around.
“Oh my god, Ellie! No wonder you took a pay cut to get on the Rhode Islanders.”
“Damn, he’s hung.”
“Sorry.” Nate winces. “You are kind of family now.”
He waits a beat then adds, “You should have seen what Trina’s sisters did to me when they found out I snuck into her bedroom one night after her parents were in bed.”
I blink then turn to look at him. He’s just fucking with me, right?
The corner of his mouth twitches. “You’re not the only one who has ever been young and horny and in the NHL, son.”
“Motherf—”
Ellie trots up, phone in hand. “Sorry! I’m deleting these right now.”
I pull her to me, kiss the top of her head, then kiss her mouth. “Don’t. Send them to yourself.”
Ellie wraps her arms around my waist and leans into me.
“Damn right!” Granny Murray hollers. “You’re going to be glad I took those photos when you’re old and wrinkly. You can remember what you looked like in your prime!”
“You’ll leave me for one of your younger players long before then,” I murmur into her neck.
“No, I won’t!” She shoves me. I pull her closer.
She looks up at me, big brown eyes serious. “I love you. I want to spend every Christmas with you.”
I can’t stop the grin splitting my face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I kiss her. “Too bad that’ll never happen.”
She jerks back. I swing her around. “We’re both in the NHL, and we play hockey games on Christmas, Coach Candy Cane.”
“Hell yeah!” her family cheers.