Cold War

Holden

Gentlemen, start your engines and strap in your heartstrings, because today's adventure is nothing short of a soap opera on ice! Yes, the rumor mill is churning faster than Sleetwood Mac, and Holden's heart is on the line. With baby news barely sinking in, our hero's life feels more like a high-stakes game than ever. And speaking of games, while love might be a team sport, not everyone's playing by the same rules. As Heath throws a curveball questioning Britt's staying power, the locker room's solidarity is tested. Can our man dodge these emotional body checks, or will these seeds of doubt sprout into a full-blown winter of discontent? Hold onto your foam fingers, because as the ice gets slippery, so too does the path of true love. Let's drop the puck and see where it slides!

Playlist: "Gossip Folks" by Missy Elliott Feat. Ludacris

"I'm happy for you, dude," Heath informs me. "But it's been forever since you were online. There's this new game, Helldivers. It's kinda like… hold on, I'll remember it." He thinks for a moment, fails to remember, then turns and shouts to Boone. "Hey, what's the name of the movie with the alien bugs?"

Boone looks up from the contents of his locker. "You mean the one that's kinda like Helldivers?"

Heath makes a fist. "Yeah."

"Starship—"

"Starship Troopers!" Heath calls, like he remembered the name all on his own. "It's funny as hell, and you can play co-op, but you need good hand-eye coordination, and you know how Bennett is."

I feign a sigh. "Yeah, I do. Poor guy can't throw a pie to save his life."

From across the locker room, Bennett flips me the bird. For a man of few words, he has no trouble getting his point across.

"It would be fun to play." Heath lifts his eyebrows meaningfully.

"I bet it would, but I've been busy lately." That's an understatement. Ever since Christmas, I've been freaking out. The other day, Britt got a call from HR at her old job. Or, I guess, her current job? She's only temping for the Slammers. I want to take care of her, but there's no way I can support both of us and a kid on my wages.

I wish I'd overheard more of her phone call. What if she decides she needs to go back to the Twin Cities because she can't make it work here? What if she decides that love is not enough?

Worse, what if she's right?

Heath is blissfully oblivious of my problems. He smirks at me. "Yeah, I bet you are. Britt's been keeping you busy, huh?"

"Um…"

My friend just keeps pushing forward. "I mean, the projects she has you doing around the house are wild. I saw your bathroom, man. How'd she convince you to put up siding indoors?"

"She didn't." I rub my forehead. "I mean, she put it up."

"The place looks good, you have to admit," Brogan chimes in. "The house has, like, a color scheme."

"And your new floors look good," Boone agrees. "That old carpet was musty as hell. I approve. You can host the annual Elf-A-Thon next year too."

Heath frowns. "She's changing you, Holden."

I shrug. "So? It's an improvement, right? Sure, I miss out on some of the bachelor stuff, but I'm happier. And us guys still hang out." Some of that might change when the kid's here, but maybe it won't. We'll still be on the team, right? Our baby's going to grow up with a whole bunch of uncles. That sounds pretty cool, actually.

"Maybe so, but what happens when she goes back to the big city?" Heath asks. "Ever thought of that?"

Record scratch. The whole locker room falls silent.

Yeah, I've thought of it, asshole. Only every single moment of every day since she came. The moment I laid eyes on the woman, I've imagined the moment when I'd lose her.

"Not cool." Shep crosses his arms. "How do you know she's going to leave?"

"Uh, because she keeps telling everyone she has no plans to stay?" Heath lifts his hands in surrender. "I'm not trying to rain on your parade, Holden. I'm just worried that you're making this chick your whole world, and I don't see her doing the same. You've been my friend for as long as I can remember. I'm looking out for you. And the rest of the guys are too, they're just too pussified to say anything."

My mouth is suddenly dry. Death Valley dry. I try to shrug Heath's words off again. "I appreciate the concern, Heath, but we're good. I'm good. Really."

Every guy on the team is looking at me, and I can tell that every single one of them has doubts. Suddenly, I miss Declyn. We weren't super close, since he was only here for a season and change, but at least he would have understood where I'm coming from. He and Tierney have something good going. None of the other guys are in serious relationships.

Boone's the one who breaks the awkward silence. "The guy's in love, Heath, and our boy's a catch. Britt can fight it all she wants, but she'll come around."

I sigh. "She's in love too if you must know. I said it at Christmas and she said it back."

Boone twists his lips. "If that's the case, there's hope. We just need to institute a plan. The ‘make-Britt-fall-in-love-with-Sorrowville' plan."

"Great idea! You just play hard to get," Shep suggests. "Chicks love that."

I shoot him an incredulous look. "How am I supposed to do that? She lives in my house."

"True." Shep scratches his chin. "That might be tough to pull off. But it's still good advice for the rest of you guys!"

Britt… might have a point about Shep. He's one-of-a-kind, that's for sure.

"We could help fix up the motel," Gage suggests. "Then you could have your space back."

"I don't want my space back," I tell him.

"Aw, damn, he really is in love." Boone throws his arm around my shoulders and pulls me down to rake his knuckles over my scalp. "Our little Holden, all grown up!"

I elbow him in the ribs. "Get off me." I feel the love, though, and I'm really glad that I have people in my corner who care. Seriously, they're going to be the best uncles. Funcles? I'm not sure how this works.

We head out to the ice. I immediately check our usual spot. With Tierney and Declyn gone, I'm the only one who's angling for a good-luck kiss from my girl.

"Oh, look." Boone nudges me with his elbow, then nods to where Britt is waiting for me. "There's your true love now!"

Britt waves, but she looks a little green. She claps a hand to her mouth, shudders… and pukes all over the ice.

"Wow." Brogan raises an eyebrow. "You're right. She's a keeper."

"Shut up." I smack him in the shoulder, then skate over to where she's leaning against the half-wall. "Are you okay, babe?"

"Just baby stuff. I smelled the hot dogs and…" She covers her mouth again.

"Maybe you should go home, Britt." I reach up to take her hand, although I'm careful to avoid skating through her puke. "I'm glad you're here to support me, but I don't want you to be miserable."

As the words leave my lips, I realize the out I'm giving her. Go home if you're going to be miserable here. I hope she doesn't take me literally.

But if she did, I guess I'd live with it. Not that I'd ever give up. Or not be a part of my kid's life.

"I might take you up on that." Her eyes are watering. "I'll see you back at the house. We're good, right?"

"Britt." I squeeze her hand. "We got through the fact that you'd never seen Elf before. After that, we can survive anything."

She chuckles. "Jackass."

I watch her leave before skating back to the team. Virgil's already out on the ice ready to Zamboni-away the frozen remnants of Britt's breakfast. The whole arena saw that, and sooner or later, people are going to start putting two and two together. I don't care who knows… but I'm afraid Britt will, and she'll change her mind about everything.

About Sorrowville.

About me.

* * *

The crowd's roar fades to a background hum as I hit the ice, each pull of the blades like the knot in my stomach. Britt left pale and shaky, barely managing a smile as she insisted she'd be fine alone. I glance over my shoulder half-expecting to see her there. Like she changed her mind. She's not and I don't like it. She's only been here a little while and I've already come to depend on her for moral support. On the ice, the game kicks off against the Bloomingdale Blazers, our rivals, but my mind's elsewhere, images of Britt curled up on our couch clouding my vision.

I hate the feeling of wanting to be somewhere else, taking care of someone I love, especially when I'm about to play in an important divisional game.

Coach Duff slams his fist against the glass, signaling a timeout just as the Blazers cheer their first goal—a shot I should've blocked. "Holden, where's your head today?" he barks, face red under the stadium lights.

I shake my head, trying to clear it, the guilt pinching tighter. "Sorry, Coach. I'm here." But am I? The bench feels hard beneath me, the shouts of my teammates distant. The whistle snaps me back, and I'm on my feet before I know it, pushing the worry down. Game face. Time to be where my skates are.

Back on the ice, my blades cut through the rink like knives. Each stride pumps the earlier hesitation out of my veins. Pass from Shep, and I'm flying down the lane, the puck an extension of my stick. I slam it past the Blazers' goalie, the net shaking as the red light blares. Equalizer. The crowd erupts, their cheers a sudden rush of adrenaline that dulls the ache of worry. For a moment, the weight lifts, and I'm soaring, carried by the game's sheer velocity.

The bench is colder after the cheer dies down. Boone claps me on the back. "That's the spirit, Hold! Keep that fire!" But the fire is mixed, burning with an image of Britt's forced smile this morning. Did she look paler than usual? The game resumes, but part of me wants to check my phone back in the locker room, tuned to any alert. Every face-off, every cheer from the crowd feels like it's happening in another world—one where I'm not silently freaking out.

Last period, seconds ticking down, and it's now or never. Pass to Bennett, who flicks it into the goal with a slick wrist shot. We win, but the victory lap feels hollow. My teammates' jubilation buzzes around me, yet my first steps off the ice are toward the locker room as fast as my skates can carry me.

"Good game, Holden," Coach claps me on the shoulder as I pass, but I'm a man on a mission. Once I reach my locker, I rummage around until I find it. The ring cuts through the remaining crowd noise, each tone sharp against my ribs until she answers. "Hey, I'm coming home. We won. How are you feeling? Need anything?"

She laughs, and then relief, finally, as I hear her voice.

"Nope. Just yourself."