2. Lucian
LUCIAN
I kill a solid hour or two downtown—coffee in hand, checking out the stores, the market, and what might be the world’s tiniest hardware store.
By the time I roll up to the gray Craftsman house I’ve rented for the season, the neighbor is in the middle of watering her mums and giving me the classic small-town side-eye.
I recognize her as one of the older women from the Falling for Books Cafe this morning.
I’ve been in town since last week for our first team practice, crashing at the Regent’s Hotel until this rental was finally ready.
“Hi, I’m Lucian,” I say, walking over to meet her. “Guess we’re going to be neighbors for a few months.” I extend my hand.
She eyes it suspiciously before giving it a quick, businesslike shake. “Mrs. Nelson. Retired English teacher and head of the Maple Falls Historical Society.” She doesn’t offer her first name, which somehow doesn’t surprise me. “You must be the one renting Mimi Roberts’ place.”
“That’s right,” I say with a nod. “I’m fixing it up for her while I stay there.”
“Well, I hope you won’t be working on the house past eight at night.
I need my beauty rest.” She says it with a completely straight face, despite being old enough to be my grandmother.
“It’s bad enough that the girl who rents my upstairs apartment makes so much noise.
People in this neighborhood don’t appreciate disruption. ”
“Don’t worry,” I say with a slight grin, “the most scandalous thing I do is drink coffee after six p.m.”
She doesn’t even crack a smile. Tough audience.
“I’ll try to keep the noise down,” I add, not bothering to tell her the rest—that this is just a side project while I’m playing for the Ice Breakers.
When my former teammate Dawson left the Carolina Crushers two years ago to move to a new team here, I stayed in touch with him and his fiancée, Emmy.
She offered to let me rent her grandmother’s house with the understanding that I’d fix it up.
In return, I’d get free rent. Mimi, who now lives at an assisted living facility, can’t maintain the place anymore, so Emmy’s family is planning on selling it to pay for her care.
At best, it’s a temporary situation for me.
“And don’t park in front of my house on the street either,” Mrs. Nelson warns before turning back to her flowers. “That’s where my renter parks—when her car works.”
“I won’t. And I’ll do my best not to disturb you,” I say, feeling that old urge to prove myself kick in—even if it’s just over noise and parking complaints.
This must be why Dad offered to buy me a house with a big yard and privacy fence—though knowing him, it was probably more about trying to buy my loyalty than the practical benefits of space from my neighbors.
In this neighborhood, everyone gets a front-row seat to your life—something I’m clearly not used to.
When I step inside the house, it takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the dim surroundings.
With all the curtains drawn, there’s a dark gloom over the place—not exactly the home sweet home vibes I expected.
More like enter at your own risk. When I lift a blind to let in some light, the place immediately seems brighter, but I also get a perfect view straight into Mrs. Nelson’s house next door.
Great. A nosy neighbor with prime real estate for spying on my every move. She probably has the neighborhood watch on speed dial.
I came to Maple Falls to play hockey without my family’s money or connections hanging over me. Somehow, I ended up in the small-town equivalent of a fishbowl instead.
“Lucian!” Emmy’s voice squeals behind me as she bursts through the door and wraps me in a hug like we’re longtime friends.
She and Dawson have been in Seattle this past week I’ve been here, since he now plays for their NHL team.
I’ve only met Dawson’s fiancée a handful of times when he visited our old team in South Carolina.
But Emmy has the kind of enthusiasm that makes you feel like family.
Dawson follows her in, carrying a brown paper sack. “House-warming gift.” He hands me an overflowing bag of groceries before we exchange a one-armed hug.
“Thanks, man.”
“You can thank Emmy. I think she is even more excited about you moving here than I am.”
“Not true,” Emmy protests, then grins. “Okay, maybe a little true.”
“It’s good to see a familiar face around here that isn’t skeptical of me before I’ve even unpacked,” I say, setting the bag on the kitchen counter.
“You’ve already met the neighbor, then?” Dawson’s mouth lifts. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Nelson will grow on you. In the meantime, I’ve got your back, even if we’re on different teams now.”
Dawson is the kind of guy you can’t not like. We’re both competitive, but we agree on one thing: the importance of winning fairly.
“I can’t wait to show you my store, Falling for Books,” Emmy says, unpacking the groceries like someone who knows exactly where everything goes in this kitchen. “I’m heading there next if you want to join me.”
“Oh, I’ve already stopped in for coffee,” I say, passing her some groceries to put into the cupboard. “I witnessed some town drama about a property developer and fixed an espresso machine while I was at it. You know, typical Monday.”
Emmy’s face lights up. “You met Neesha, then?”
I nod, trying to look casual even though something about the way she says Neesha’s name makes me think I’m about to be set up on a date. “Didn’t get much out of her, though. Pretty sure she thought I was angling for free coffee and her number.”
“She’s careful,” Emmy says. “Doesn’t trust people easily. Especially after what happened with Nate Simpson.”
I pause. “Wait—Nate Simpson? The guy with the ego bigger than the rink?”
Emmy nods.
I let out a low whistle. “That’s her ex?”
Suddenly, a lot of things make sense. Her guarded smiles, the way she brushed me off.
“No wonder she’s careful,” I say. “He’s a walking penalty box with the emotional maturity of a twelve-year-old—and the guy’s what, early twenties?”
I’d heard about him back when he was playing for the Ice Breakers’ charity team. Cocky. Flashy. Sloppy with his relationships. And now, lucky me—he’s my new teammate.
“Well, I give you full permission to take him out in practice, especially after what he did to Neesha,” Emmy says.
“After the charity games were over, he swept her off her feet, then spent months hiding their relationship like she was something to be ashamed of. When she caught him with Brittany, he had the nerve to say he couldn’t be seen publicly with ‘someone who just works in a cafe.’”
“Seriously?” I say, something simmering in my chest. “Brittany’s the one who treated Neesha like garbage at the cafe this morning. ”
“Sounds about right,” Emmy says, crossing her arms.
“Why does she keep going back there?” I ask.
“It’s pretty twisted to patronize your boyfriend’s ex’s workplace just to make her miserable.
” I barely know Neesha, but the thought of someone deliberately hurting her makes me wish I could do something to help her.
No one should have to put up with that treatment.
“This is Maple Falls.” Emmy looks at me. “There’s no such thing as a clean break here. Plus, you know what they say: keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
I shake my head. “Sounds like unnecessary drama to me.”
“Brittany is unnecessary drama. Neesha’s completely over Nate, but Brittany still acts like she’s starring in her own reality show with him, and it’s exhausting for everyone.”
I lean against the counter, not liking the picture Emmy is painting of Neesha’s past. We’ve barely even met, but I’ve seen enough to recognize the kind of silence people wear when they’ve been humiliated.
It’s the same one I wore when I walked out of my father’s office the last time.
A clean break from him was all I wanted, especially after what he did to my grandfather.
“So Neesha’s probably not a fan of hockey players in general,” I say.
“Not since Nate. And I don’t think she’s looking for a do-over with another athlete.” Emmy gives me a quick glance. “Even if I wish she would.”
“Then maybe don’t mention what I do for a living,” I say.
Emmy looks at me skeptically. “That’s not going to stay secret long. This town notices everything, and I mean everything .”
“I know. But I want her to get to know me first. Without the jersey.” Just once, I want someone to see who I am, not what I do. I’ll tell her once I earn her trust— if she lets me in after what that jerk put her through.
Dawson studies me for a few seconds. “How did your dad take the news about you coming here?”
I let out a breath. “Like I expected. He blew a gasket. Said that loyalty to the family meant not wasting my life. He wants me to quit hockey and join the family empire. Says I’m wasting my potential on a ‘hobby.’”
The memory of that moment still hurts. Especially when the last thing he said to me was: “Don’t come back until you’re ready to be serious.” Serious , in my dad’s world, means soul-crushing. Like when he decided Grandpa was expendable.
Emmy pops her head out from the pantry, eyes wide. “What is he, the king of some small country?”
Dawson chuckles grimly. “Close. His dad’s the CEO of Northwest Development & Real Estate. Lucian probably makes less in the NHL than he would working for his father.”
Her jaw drops. “Seriously? How did you turn down that kind of security?”
“Because that empire was built on betraying the man who basically raised me. Dad convinced my grandfather to invest his entire retirement savings to start Northwest Development & Real Estate—told him they’d be partners, that it was their family legacy.
Then when the business took off, he used some legal loophole to push Grandpa out and keep everything.
Said it was ‘just business.’ Grandpa had to go back to being a handyman at seventy just to get by. ”
Emmy looks horrified. “I’m so sorry, Lucian.”
I shake my head. “Don’t be. I’d rather make an honest living playing hockey than profit off what my father did to the best man I ever knew.
My grandfather taught me everything about treating people right.
He used to say you don’t need a suit to build a legacy—just good hands and a reason to use them.
His family was always his why for everything he did. ”
Emmy props her elbows on the kitchen island. “Your grandpa sounds amazing.”
I toss some frozen burgers into the freezer and lean against the counter. “Enough about me. Tell me more about Neesha.”
Emmy exchanges a look with Dawson, then grins at me like she’s intrigued. “Why? ”
“Just trying to understand the town dynamics,” I say, which is only half true and Emmy knows it.
“Sure you are,” she teases, tossing me a bag of granola. “Well, if she didn’t tell you much about herself, don’t take it personally. She’s super-focused on her cupcake business and is saving every penny to move to Seattle. Wants to open her own shop somewhere bigger than Maple Falls.”
“So she’s definitely leaving?” I ask, trying not to sound too interested.
“She’s researching locations, making plans—but she’s not even close to having enough money saved.
Her mom’s insurance didn’t cover all the medical bills after an emergency gallbladder surgery, and then Neesha had to pay for an unanticipated funeral when her mom had a blood clot and died unexpectedly.
It totally drained everything they had left. ”
I shake my head. Why is life so unfair to people who don’t deserve it?
“So if things are that tight, why not open her shop here?” I ask, taking out an apple and rolling it around in my hand.
Emmy shrugs. “Says it’s her dream. But I wonder if she’s just trying to get away from Nate. I think if Neesha met someone else, she’d reconsider. I mean, it worked for us.” She glances at her fiancé.
Without a word, he comes over to Emmy and gives her a kiss on the cheek before turning back to me. “But I should warn you, not everyone in town loves hockey players. Most will warm up to you eventually, but expect some cold shoulders at first.”
“Already experienced that with my delightful neighbor.” I grin, nodding to the house next door.
“Oh, you’re not special. She’s just that way to everyone,” Dawson says.
Emmy grabs the empty grocery bag and folds it up. “One piece of advice? This town loves matchmaking. Especially in the fall. Consider yourself warned. ”
I glance out the kitchen window into the house next door, and notice the blinds snap shut like someone was watching us.
The neighborhood spy is already gathering intelligence.
“I’m here for a fresh start anyway,” I say. “Avoiding attention.”
But as I look at the house next door, I can’t shake the feeling that staying out of the spotlight might be impossible in this small town.