The Mascot Who Stole Christmas (Sticks and Vows)
Chapter 1
MARCUS
Some guys get all the glory…
Sitting there on the bench, Marcus couldn’t help but feel envious. The screams were deafening, and the signs, banners, and jerseys he saw in the stands were for everyone else but him. He was the newbie. The crowd loved the ‘main team’ – or so they called it – and he?
He was invisible.
A benchwarmer.
A nobody.
A green rookie who had somehow slipped through the cracks and landed in a place he wasn’t sure he belonged.
He shifted on the bench, the weight of his gear suddenly feeling heavier than it should. He’d done everything right to get here. He worked harder. Stayed quieter. Even lied to secure his spot on the Wolverines hockey team.
Marcus bought a cheap ring at Walmart to make himself look married when he met with the coach of the Wolverines.
He wasn’t married. Heck, he was barely twenty-five, and this was his first chance at the ‘big boys club’ at the ‘boy aquarium’ in Quebec.
It wasn’t like he was rejected or anything; he just didn’t feel like he fit in.
There were twenty-six guys on this team – not seven.
“Shaw!”
Marcus jerked his head up so fast his neck twinged.
His gaze collided with Captain Liam Savage’s sharp stare.
Savage—cool, composed, untouchable—stood at the center of everything, a natural leader with a stupid nickname and a fanbase that worshipped the ice he skated on.
One of the ‘Elite Seven’… or so he’d dubbed them.
Before he could answer, Jett Acton leaned in, smacking Marcus lightly in the chest with his gloved hand.
“Yeah, Green-Bean,” Jett jeered, a grin tugging at his mouth. “This ain’t the AHL or U-Sports. You get to hang with the big boys now. When he talks, you listen.”
A ripple of laughter moved through the bench.
“Thank you, Acton,” Savage said with a chuckle.
Jett leaned closer, voice dropping just enough to carry. “And when I talk—you listen too, Newbie.”
Marcus nodded immediately. He had no interest in rocking the boat. No interest in drawing the wrong kind of attention. He’d learned that much already: if you wanted ice time, you kept your head down and played nice. Favorites stayed favorites. Rookies stayed quiet.
He swallowed and met Savage’s eyes again, catching something like concern there—brief, but real.
“I’m listening, sir.”
“All right guys, now let’s get back to it. We’re about to hit the ice with the Kodiaks, and they slaughtered the last team, leaving a few of their players injured. We’ve got to get the puck, keep it, and do everything we can to score a point.”
“Quick note, fellas,” Coach Starnes interrupted.
“When we hit the ice, try to keep Toby in your thoughts and prayers. He tore his hamstring jogging this weekend and we’ve got a replacement filling in for the guy.
Harper should be just fine and will also be attending the Christmas party with everyone – so be nice. ”
“We’re always nice,” Jett sassed.
“As long as we muzzle Jett – we’re good,” Kenneth Salas volunteered, garnering a few laughs as Jett stuck out his tongue at the other man.
Thirty minutes later, Marcus was back in his usual spot.
Watching.
Waiting.
Wishing.
The ice gleamed under the lights as the game surged on without him. He tracked every pass, every hit, every near miss with aching precision. His stick was taped to perfection. His hydration? Impeccable. His body rested, coiled, ready.
Too ready.
They said bench guys needed to conserve energy. Stay sharp. Be prepared.
Marcus was beyond prepared.
He wanted—no, needed—just one moment. One shift. One chance to prove he wasn’t just a roster filler. Was it really so wrong to want a taste of glory? A second where the crowd might chant his name instead of swallowing him whole? A forgotten poster boy? A shadow behind the trophy…
“Oh my gosh—are you freaking kidding me?”
Marcus snapped his head up.
Elliott Mendoza’s voice carried shock, not anger. Marcus braced himself for blood on the ice, a bad hit, a stupid move by Acton—which happened each and every game, let’s be honest…
But what he saw made his stomach drop.
The Wolverines mascot.
A giant padded player with an oversized Wolverine head and blue furry mitts. There was even an arched tail pinned to the tail of the jersey. He would know, because it was right there, sticking up into the air for the whole arena to see.
Sprawled.
On.
The ice.
Silence hit first. A low gasp of silence, before the stands exploded in awareness. Several people rose to their feet, and even the players on the ice stood up straight instead of leaning into the play.
Coach Starnes slapped a hand to his forehead in disbelief.
Savage mirrored the motion a heartbeat later with another audible pop of skin on skin.
The whistle shrieked.
“You gotta be kidding me…”
“I can’t believe this…”
“How stupid can you be…”
“No way are they gonna call that…”
Marcus’s shocked face looked at the referee as everyone began booing and screaming in dismay. No way, he thought, horrified as the Wolverine Mascot got up and began to skate toward the boards to get off the ice.
Coach Starnes exploded, screaming and hollering angrily as he waved his arm – and sure enough – the four referees were suddenly whispering together. Their striped bodies and heads were bent together, quietly conversing with mics off, before nodding.
“Illegal substitution…”
They made the call.
“WHAT?” Coach Starnes - and half the team - screamed at once in utter shock over the hushed crowd.
“Too many men on the ice…”
“THAT’S NOT EVEN A PLAYER,” Coach Starnes shouted in dismay. “THAT’S THE MASCOT! Somebody get that nitwit off the ice - NOW!”
“That’s the mascot!” one of the guys yelled.
“He doesn’t even play hockey…” someone else yelped in disbelief.
“Officials have decided – the play stops…”
“Oh my gosh,” Savage muttered, collapsing on the bench as the crowd surged to their feet in anger just as the Wolverine Mascot hooked a leg above the boards – and the door swung open with the Wolverine comically perched on top, like a flag in the wind. “Can this get any worse?”
“And the penalty shot is awarded to the Kodiaks…”
It just got worse.
Much, much worse.
“NOOOO!” Coach Starnes screamed angrily, squatting down and pulling at his hair before shooting to his feet, grabbing Savage on the arm and shaking him. Heck, he was shaking the entire bench as everyone stared in horror as the Kodiak player sank the puck, shooting it right past Larsson’s skates.
Yeah, it was going to be a rough night.