Chapter 2 Penn #2
“You’re not Frosty the Snowman.” She wraps her arms around herself. “Besides, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“Why not?”
She points at the elf, then gestures vaguely to the other side of the room. “Because the last time I cranked the heat up, I woke up and he was sitting over there. Watching me.”
I pause. “Wait—you’re saying the elf moved because you adjusted the thermostat?”
She nods slowly, deadly serious. “I think it pissed him off. He likes a very specific climate.”
Okay, she has to be joking. Right?
...Right?
I look back at the elf. His eyes are still locked in like he’s trying to decide which of my limbs to gnaw off first.
“If that thing moves tonight, I’m grabbing my bag and getting the hell out.”
“To where?” she says, pulling the blanket up to her chin with an infuriating smirk. “You’ve got nowhere to go, Radman. You’re stuck here.” She wiggles her toes under the comforter. “Just like me.”
I glance at the closet, then back at the elf, still sitting there like it’s seconds from pouncing.
“Okay, no. That thing is not staying out here with us. Absolutely not.” Before Jaylynn can object, I march across the room, snatch up the creepy little menace, and open the closet door.
“Time for bed, Santa’s minion.” I drop it inside, shut the door, and give the knob a twist for good measure.
When I turn back to the bed, Jaylynn’s staring at me like I just triggered a curse.
Her mouth hangs open slightly, eyes huge. She’s clutching the blankets like she’s in a horror movie, pulling them all the way up to her neck.
“What?” I ask.
She gives a slow, ominous shake of her head. “You shouldn’t have done that, Radman,” she whispers, voice full of doom.
My stomach dips. “Shit. He’s actually possessed, isn’t he?”
She doesn’t answer. Just grabs a mint off the nightstand and holds it out like a priest brandishing a crucifix. “You have to put this under your pillow. Now.”
I stare at it. “There’s… mint protocol?”
“Uh-huh.” She nods, dead serious. “You mess with the elf, you sleep with the mint. It’s the rule.”
I snort a laugh, but my fingers still close around the wrapped candy. “This is absolutely ridiculous.”
She levels me with a look. “I put one under my pillow the night he moved. I think it’s the only reason I survived.”
My laugh dies halfway out of my throat. I glance at the closet. Then slide the mint under my pillow. Just in case. “It won’t melt?” I ask.
“Not in this freezer of a room.” She flops back and grins smugly. “Honestly, I thought you hockey guys loved weird superstitions.”
“Some do,” I say, noncommittal.
But the truth settles heavier in my chest than I’d like.
I used to have a whole routine. Gummy bears—red only.
Right skate first. Same song before every game.
Didn’t matter if it worked, it felt like control.
Back when I played for the Providence Grizzlies, I did everything by the book—everything I was told.
I stayed disciplined, stayed physical, played rough. Waited for my shot.
And watched other guys get the call-up.
Over. And over.
Eventually, I stopped believing the rituals mattered. Or maybe I just stopped letting myself hope.
It wasn’t until Jaylynn’s dad—Coach Quinn—called me into his office one day to tell me I was getting a shot with the Bucks. I still remember that day. Jaylynn had been there, all smiles and wide eyes. She looked proud of me. Like it actually meant something.
The Bucks wanted me as their enforcer. So, that’s what I do. It’s what the fans want. What the team expects. Better to stay in that role than try something more and fail in front of everyone.
Jaylynn nudges me out of the thought spiral. “Wait a second,” she says, pointing. “You used to eat red gummy bears before every game. I saw you do it back in high school. And even when you were playing for the Grizzlies. You always had that same little pouch.”
I blink, caught off guard that she remembers. “Yeah, well… I grew out of it.”
She tilts her head like she doesn’t believe me, but I don’t give her time to ask more.
“Is it okay if I take a shower?” I nod toward the closed bathroom door.
“Sure,” she says casually, then adds, “As long as you’re not afraid of the peppermint shower hose.”
I blink. “Jesus Christ.”
She just smirks. “May your water pressure be merry and bright.”
I grab my bag and head for the bathroom.
The second I step inside, I immediately regret it.
My eyes start to water as a riot of red and green assaults my retinas.
Candy cane stripes. Snowflake decals. A reindeer shower curtain staring at me like it knows I locked its friend in the closet.
Honestly, it’s like someone let Buddy the Elf loose with a glue gun and zero adult supervision.
I turn on the water, strip out of my clothes, and crawl under the spray, enjoying the warmth soaking through my skin. I stay there longer than necessary. Letting the water hit me like it could somehow rinse away the last few weeks. The headlines. The commentary. The hit. The Santa incident.
God, I decked Santa.
And yeah, I’d do it again. The guy was a drunk mall stand-in who told a five-year-old there was no such thing as magic, and pulled his beard down to show her even Santa was fake. Fucking asshole deserved it.
But now I’m suspended. Reputational roadkill. The guy who took down St. Nick in front of a crowd and a hundred camera phones.
And yet... that punch landed me here. In this ridiculous peppermint nightmare. With Jaylynn.
Jaylynn Quinn. My girlfriend. Fake, sure, but still. Kind of wild.
I snort out a laugh and lean my head against the tile. I have no idea if we can actually pull this off. But if pretending to date her gets me a warm bed, a hot shower, and maybe—maybe—a clean image that secures my spot on the Bucks, then I’ll play the part.
Even if I don’t plan to touch her. Unless, of course, she asks me to.
Fuck.
But truth is, I want to see her get back on her feet too. Jaylynn’s always been kind—even in high school, when kindness wasn’t exactly trending. We didn’t run in the same circles, but she never treated me like I didn’t belong. And her dad is the reason I got called up—eventually.
He didn’t move me up when I thought I was ready. Maybe he didn’t think I had NHL-level value. Or maybe he just knew what the league really wanted from me. But he always treated me with respect. That counted for something.
I shut off the water, towel off, and pull on my T-shirt and sweats. Quietly, I crack the door open, not wanting to wake Jaylynn if she’s asleep.
The room’s dark now, lit only by moonlight slanting through the frosted window. The elf closet remains mercifully closed. I pad across the room and pull back the blanket—
“What the—”
I leap back like I’ve been electrocuted, nearly knocking over the bedside lamp. My heart slams into my ribs as I catch a flash of red staring up at me from the sheets.
It’s the elf.
Lying. In. The. Bed.
I suck in a breath, one hand pressed to my chest. “Oh, hell no—”
Then I hear it. A snort.
Jaylynn.
She’s trembling under the covers, trying—and failing—to stifle her laughter. Her whole body shakes as a giggle bubbles up and finally breaks free.
“You should’ve seen your face,” she wheezes.
I stare at the elf, now curled under the blanket like it’s ready for a bedtime story, then look back at her, deadpan.
“I miss the cats.”