Chapter 20
Shannon Wilder added Daisy Winslow to the group chat Puckin’ Exhausted
Shannon
Be cool, girls.
Stevie
Who meeeeeeeee? I’m cool.
Tate
I think I’d go with enthusiastic over cool, but to each their own.
Stevie
Oh, I like enthusiastic. That fits. I’ll take it.
Emmy
GIRLS. FOCUS.
Hi Daisy
Daisy
Hi friends
Stevie
SHE CALLED US FRIENDS OMG I MIGHT CRY
Shannon
And this is why we’re not friends
Tate
What’s up, Emmy?
Stevie
Right. Sorry. I’ll shut up.
Emmy
We need to chat about the date auction. Are we doing this? I’m sure Beckett can get some of his buddies to agree to it.
Shannon
I’d rather oversee the port-a-potties than have anything to do with that.
Tate
If you put me in that date auction, I’m never speaking to you again.
Emmy
K, so I’ll put you two at the top of the list.
Stevie
What about you, Daisy?
Or are you and Ty a thing now?
Shannon
As subtle as a brick through a window.
Tate
Good lord, Stevie.
Stevie
What?
Emmy
Okay, focus. Daisy, zero pressure. We can make the auction players-only and be done with it.
Stevie
UNLESSSSSS
Daisy
There’s nothing to tell.
Stevie
Dammit, I swore I saw sex hair when you scampered out of the house.
Emmy
Quick reminder: Ty is my brother. Please don’t make me leave the chat.
Shannon
For the record, when we got coffee last week, he lingered.
Daisy
Have you met Ty? He’s polite.
Shannon
And you live with him. Tell me why that man would need to linger when he sees you every day.
Tate
He does it around the rink, too.
Emmy
Not you too…
Stevie
SEE!!!!
Does he wait for her after meetings? Sit next to her?
WAIT NO! Across from her, so he can stare longingly into her eyes the whole time?!
Tate
Both
Emmy
I regret starting this conversation.
Tate
He hovers, Emmy.
Shannon
Men who hover are either in love or about to mansplain the shit out of you.
Emmy
You realize Daisy will never speak to us again, right? This is so intrusive.
I am very sorry, Daisy.
Stevie
As Shannon says, she’s a bitch, not a liar.
Shannon
Glad you remember.
Emmy
You know what, Daisy? I’ll do you a favor and remove you from the chat. Feel free to block us.
Shannon
Please don’t. This is fun.
Daisy
Let me think about the auction and get back to you.
Stevie
GASP! THAT IS NOT A NO!
Tate
Well, I can guarantee the only one you’d be going on a date with is Ty because he will lose his freaking mind.
Emmy
I can’t even argue with that.
Shannon
And here I was thinking I didn’t want to go…
Two weeks slipped by faster than I expected.
Between the smell of sawdust and the hum of construction at Violet’s place, the days blurred together.
With a new job on my plate, I hired a contractor to wrestle the wiring and drywall into submission.
It swallowed what little money I had left in my savings account, but Stevie’s husband worked in construction and called in some favors to help me out.
With their help, the house was looking like a home instead of a disaster zone.
At the rink, I’d thrown myself into the marketing role like my sanity depended on it—which, maybe, it did.
Tate was thrilled to have me on board, claiming this was the first decision the guys had ever forced on her she agreed with.
Each day I spent with her, a little more of her personality showed itself.
She was sarcastic, whip-smart, and unbothered by anyone with an inflated ego.
I hadn’t met the infamous Mason Conway in person yet, but judging by the way Tate’s jaw tightened every time his voice chimed in on a conference call, there was history there.
Junie had settled into a rhythm too—either at the rink with me, at the ranch with Ty, or with Stevie and her crew. If Ty or I got stuck working late, Emmy swooped in or one of the Mayhem players lined up to babysit. For the first time, the perks of small-town life were easy to see.
Grief didn’t hit all at once anymore—it hung around the edges, just waiting for me to stop moving.
So, I didn’t.
I kept my hands busy and my mind busier—anything to make the silence a little less sharp.
Pulling off a summer carnival in two weeks was ridiculous on paper, but Linwood had its own brand of magic. Or, maybe more accurately, the Conway brothers refused to take no for an answer.
Between their name recognition, their contacts, and the way they tossed around money, the whole town seemed to fall in line. Permits that should’ve taken months cleared overnight, sponsors crawled out of the woodwork to have their names on everything, and famous friends showed up in droves.
And Ty… God help me. Nothing else had happened between us; the moments we were alone were few and far between. I could tell he was waiting me out, but I was tired of feeling fragile.
By the time carnival day rolled around, I was running on Diet Coke, adrenaline, and the stubborn belief that sheer grit could pull a carnival together.
Luckily, it was working.
River Street had transformed overnight—tents, food trucks, game booths, and a makeshift stage sprouting up as if someone had waved a magic wand.
I’d barely finished tying down the last corner of a banner when a breeze lifted it back up, slapping me in the face. Somewhere behind me, a deep laugh rumbled, and instantly I warmed at the sound.
“Need a hand?”
Ty stood there in a ball cap and a green T-shirt, arms crossed and wearing a smug grin.
I rolled my eyes, trying to hide the smile tugging at my lips. “Always coming in with the savior complex.”
“For you?” he said, those hazel eyes alight with mischief. “Yes.”
I climbed down from the ladder, letting Ty take my place. “What’s Junie up to this morning?”
“She’s at Emmy’s, working on a secret project with Jace,” Ty said, reaching up to retie the banner for me. His biceps flexed with every pull, the cotton of his shirt stretching in all the right ways. But my attention caught on those damn shorts.
“Are you intentionally doing this to me?”
Ty glanced down, all fake innocence. “Doing what?”
“That.” I pointed to his shorts and the black ink peeking from beneath them. “Hoochie daddy shorts. I swear, every pair you wear is shorter than the last ones. Are you trying to catch a hockey mom today?”
He laughed, the sound deep and easy, then hopped down off the ladder to stand over me. “Don’t worry, Daisy. I don’t care about their attention.”
My belly swooped, heat washing over me. “No?”
His lips tugged into a mischievous grin. “Just yours.”
The world tilted, a dizzying mix of heat and nerves and something I wasn’t ready to name.
Ty turned back to the banner and left me standing there, completely undone by a man in too-short shorts and a grin that said he knew it.
I was still trying to remember how to breathe when a voice broke through the haze.
“Found you!”
Stevie strode up the street, clipboard in hand. She was decked out head-to-toe in Mayhem Hockey Club gear—logo tee knotted at the waist, denim shorts, and green sneakers to match.
“We’ve officially sold out of advance tickets,” she beamed. “Over fifteen hundred sold online, and people are still lining up at the gate. Between sponsors, bake-off entries, and vendor fees, we’re sitting right around fifty thousand dollars raised, and the day’s just getting started.”
“Fifty thousand?” I blinked. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Turns out your marketing campaign hit the Vail Valley crowd just right. Half these people drove in from the resorts looking for that ‘small-town charm,’” she said, using air quotes. “Which apparently means bounce houses, corn dogs, and questionable parking. The gates open in five minutes.”
“And you.” Stevie pointed at Ty, who turned around to look at us. “I don’t know what favors you called in, but there is a large donation from the Chicago Storm Youth Foundation, so thank you for that.”
I beamed up at him. “We’ll take it.”
“Hell yeah, we will,” she said. “This is great.”
Before I could respond, Ty adjusted the brim of his cap. “So where do you need us?”
“Good question.” Stevie scanned her notes. “You’re scheduled to get the Mayhem kids started at the street hockey shootout, then head to the hardware store.”
He groaned. “For that petting-zoo nonsense?”
“Yup,” she said, all cheer. “Uno and Piggie Smalls are the main attraction. Plus, someone dropped off a few goats this morning. I’m not quite clear if this was a donation to you, or if someone is coming to claim them at the end of the night? So that will be a fun little surprise for us all.”
Ty muttered something under his breath, and I bit back a laugh.
He looked at me. “Where are you headed?”
Stevie flipped her clipboard, scanning. “I’ve got you as a floater, until 3 p.m. when you’re headed over to the—” Her smile turned devious. “You know what? We’ll chat later.”
“That sounds ominous,” Ty said. “Should she be worried?”
“I’ve never been so excited in my life,” she sang, already walking away to talk to someone else.
I chuckled, staring after my new friend. “Is she always like this?”
“From what I can tell, yes.” He tipped his chin toward the street. “I’m gonna check on the kids before they riot.”
As he spoke, the sound of cheers erupted from the direction of the ticket counter, and I noticed a wave of people spilling through the open gates, laughter and excitement filling the air. In minutes, the street was alive with families and friends, moving toward the booths and games.
Across the way, Beckett stood in the middle of a makeshift street hockey setup—orange cones, fold-up nets, taped lines—with a group of teens in Mayhem jerseys. Beside him towered a broad-shouldered man I didn’t recognize.
Ty crossed to them, his stride steady. Beckett said something that made the teenagers groan. Ty didn’t laugh, not really; he just shook his head, lips twitching. He wasn’t a man who laughed often, except with me.
I shouldn’t have liked that distinction, but I did.