Chapter 23 Collin
COLLIN
I’ve been staring at these grocery bags in my truck for ten minutes now, trying to convince myself I haven’t completely lost my mind.
The receipt sitting on my passenger seat says otherwise.
I went overboard. Way overboard. Iris had texted a short list: chips, drinks, maybe some of those little cocktail weenies she’d mentioned Jamie loves.
Simple stuff. But somewhere between the store entrance and checkout, I blacked out.
Now my truck’s loaded with enough food to feed the entire team, not just the handful of people coming over.
Six days. It had been six days since I dropped her off after Mackinac, since that kiss that turned my whole world upside down.
Six days of radio silence that had me convinced I’d read everything wrong, pushed too hard, scared her away.
Then this morning happened. One text about Jamie being sick, and I was at her door with homemade soup before I could think twice about it.
Now, here I am, parked outside her house with an army’s worth of party supplies and Jamie’s gift in my backseat.
The same gift I’d bought weeks ago, and somehow managed to forget this morning when I dropped off the soup and DVD.
Though maybe that’s for the best. Showing up with soup, a movie, and a gift might have been a bit much.
Who am I kidding? This whole thing probably seems a bit much.
A sharp rap on my window makes me jump. Hayes is standing there, shit-eating grin firmly in place as he gestures at all the bags crammed into my passenger seat.
Hayes shakes his head as I roll down the window.
“Did you leave anything at the store, or...?”
From behind him, Nick lets out a low whistle.
“Someone’s trying to impress.” He wraps an arm around Amanda’s shoulders as she steps out of their SUV, both of them looking way too amused at my obvious over-preparation.
They’d managed to get a sitter for their girls tonight, a minor miracle given it’s New Year’s Eve.
“Fuck off,” I mutter, but there’s no heat in it.
He’s not wrong. I’ve got it ridiculously bad.
Have since the first moment I laid eyes on her.
I grab the bags and Jamie’s gift, whistling for Ace to jump down from the backseat.
My German shepherd bounds out, tail wagging as he surveys his new surroundings.
Having the guys here helps, actually. Their familiar ribbing is exactly what I need to keep from getting too in my head about all of this.
“Beckett’s gonna be a bit late,” Hayes says, shouldering one of the bags I dropped. “Said he had something important to handle first.”
I snort, juggling the remaining bags. Classic Beck—the guy’ll talk your ear off about anything except his personal life.
The moment you get anywhere near what’s happening outside hockey, those walls go right up.
But before I can dwell on what might have our teammate being so secretive, the front door opens and everything else falls away.
Iris stands in the doorway, backlit by the warm glow from inside, her oversized white sweater slipping off one shoulder, dark curls twisting around her face.
The sight of her settles something in my chest even as it sets my pulse racing.
It’s a constant contradiction that only she’s capable of creating.
“You came,” she says softly, like she’s surprised, and something in my chest tightens.
“Said I would, Pretty Girl.” I grin, trying to ignore the way my heart’s working overtime in my chest. Behind her, I catch a glimpse of Jamie peering around her legs, and I gratefully latch onto the distraction. “Hey buddy! Feeling better?” He nods shyly, then his eyes go wide when he spots Ace.
“You brought your dog!”
“Sure did. And something else too.” I set down the bags and pull out the wrapped package I spent way too long agonizing over at the sports store.
“Here you go, bud. Sorry it’s a little late—was supposed to give it to you this morning but my brain wasn’t working yet.
” Jamie tears into the wrapping paper, gasping when he unveils the youth-sized hockey gloves and mini stick.
“Mom! Look!”
“I see,” Iris says, and when I glance up, she’s watching me with this soft expression that makes it hard to breathe. “That’s really thoughtful, Collin.”
“Well, can’t learn hockey without the right equipment,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck.
“And uh, we all brought sticks so we could show you some moves. If that’s okay?
” This last part I direct at Iris, suddenly worried I’m overstepping.
But she just smiles, that real smile that makes her eyes crinkle at the corners, and steps back to let us in.
“Yeah, of course... might want to move the lamp first though.” The others file in behind me, and I catch Ellie’s knowing look from her perch on the couch.
Between her and Amanda, I’m never going to hear the end of this.
We make quick work of pushing the coffee table against the wall, creating a decent-sized play area in the middle of her living room.
The familiar space feels different now, warmer somehow, filled with the sounds of grocery bags rustling and Ace’s nails clicking against the hardwood as he investigates the house.
Iris moves to the kitchen, starting to unpack the ridiculous amount of food I placed on her granite island.
“Did you buy out the whole store?” she asks, eyebrows rising as she pulls out container after container.
“He stress shops,” Hayes supplies helpfully, earning himself an elbow to the ribs.
It’s true. I’d practically cleared out the appetizer section.
The cashier’s face when I kept adding more to the conveyor belt probably matched the expression Iris is wearing now. Yeah, she definitely thinks I’m insane.
I settle behind Jamie, my hands gentle as I adjust his grip on the stick.
“Okay, bottom hand needs to be lower—yeah, just like that.” His small fingers wrap around the stick, and his little tongue pokes out between his lips.
“Perfect. Now your top hand. There you go.” Hayes crouches down on Jamie’s other side, his voice patient.
“The trick is to keep your eyes on where you want the puck to go. Like when you’re throwing a ball, you always look at who you’re throwing to, right?
” Jamie nods, his face scrunched up. He’s got that look kids get when they’re trying so hard to get everything exactly right.
Nick sets up a makeshift goal using throw pillows, positioning himself as goalie with exaggerated seriousness that makes Jamie grin.
“Alright,” Nick says, dropping into a crouch.
“Show me what you’ve got.” I place the small plastic puck in front of Jamie’s stick.
His first shot goes wide, skittering under the TV stand where Ace immediately investigates.
The second one’s closer but still misses.
Jamie’s shoulders start to droop, but I give them a gentle squeeze.
“Hey, that’s really good for your first tries.
Took me way longer to get this close,” I say as I retrieve the puck, setting it up again.
“Try keeping your stick a little lower this time. Yeah, just like that.” The next shot is wobbly but manages to slip between the pillows.
Nick makes a show of diving for it—several seconds too late—and Jamie’s whole face lights up.
“I did it!” He spins around, searching for Iris. “Mom! Did you see?”
“I saw!” Iris’s voice carries from the kitchen, where she’s arranging snacks with Amanda. When I glance over, she’s watching us with this soft expression that makes my stomach flip. “Looking good out there, baby.”
“Kid’s got skills,” Hayes agrees, setting up another shot. “Better aim than Collin here, anyway.” I tear my gaze away from Iris.
“Yeah? Let’s see you do better, hotshot.
” We spend the next half hour working on basic shooting, everyone offering encouragement and tips.
Jamie soaks it all in, his earlier shyness forgotten as he hits us with questions.
When another shot slips past Nick, we all cheer like he just scored a game-winner.
“Now that,” Hayes says, “definitely deserves a replay. Show us that shot again, J-man.” Jamie’s chest puffs up at the nickname, and he lines up another shot. This one goes in too, and Nick flops onto his back with an exaggerated groan.
“Too good! I’m finished! Done for!” Jamie giggles, the sound interrupted by a small cough. I notice Iris straighten slightly, her mom-radar clearly pinging.
“Think it’s time for a water break,” I suggest, catching Iris’s grateful look. “Can’t play on empty, right? That’s like, rule number one of hockey.”
“What’s rule number two?” Jamie asks, following me into the kitchen where bowls of chips and those cocktail weenies I’d spent way too long hunting down are spread across the granite countertop.
“Rule number two is...” I pretend to think about it, grabbing a paper plate. “Always listen to your mom.”
“Nice save,” Ellie murmurs from her perch on one of the barstools, smirking over the rim of her glass.
I catch Hayes adjusting his snapback as he approaches, flipping it backwards in what we’ve all come to recognize as his pre-flirt ritual. My eyebrows shoot up. “Uh oh.” Nick appears beside me at the snack table, already loading up a plate.
“Here comes Cupid,” he mutters, and I bite back a laugh. Hayes sidles up next to Ellie, blond hair poking out from under the edges of his hat. She doesn’t so much as look at him, her blue eyes still focused on her phone as she absently munches on chips.
“So,” he starts, leaning back against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Hayes.” Ellie glances up, a hint of amusement playing at her lips.
“Yeah, I know who you are. Camden Hayes. Number sixty-eight, right?”