Chapter 1

Noelle

Going home for the holidays was not on my 2024 bingo card. Honestly, I’d much rather just power through the holidays, sipping peppermint mocha in my dorm room. There's something cozy about staying in my dorm, surrounded by my favorite books, binging on Netflix series I've been dying to watch, and having impromptu dance parties with my roommates.

I can decorate my space with twinkling fairy lights, create a mini hot cocoa bar, and even try my hand at some holiday-themed DIY crafts. Plus, it's the perfect opportunity to catch up on sleep, enjoy some quiet time, and avoid the holiday travel rush.

Will I be doing any of this? Nope.

Because now, I’m headed home instead of planning for my next college semester.

I’ll be graduating in May, and I’m seriously not prepared.

I love planning. Got all my Happy Planners lined neatly across my desk in my dorm room, and stickers galore, because who doesn’t love stickers.

Right?

There’s just something magical about them that makes me smile.

You know what doesn’t make me smile? Going home for the holidays.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my parents. But it’s my father’s job I hate.

Well, let me start over. I don’t hate my father’s job. He’s a coach for the Colorado Blizzard, and I personally love hockey. I grew up watching it with my father. Even played some when I was younger.

I love the team. My father coaches some of the best players in the league. One in particular. York Steele.

He’s confident in his hockey skills, and nobody wins games better than he does. Everyone loves him.

Including me.

I do, I love him so so much, and the sad part is—he doesn’t even know it. He barely knows I exist. It’s all sort of pathetic really.

The naive twenty-three year old pining away after a thirty-two year old celebrity. It’s silly, I know.

The problem is when I head home for the holidays, my father always invites the team over for Christmas dinner. I’ll have to sit across from my crush and pretend I’m not dying for his attention.

I slap another pink scarf into my suitcase and zip it up. I take a deep breath in through my nose and let it out my mouth.

I can do this.

My phone rings, and I put my mother on speaker. “Hi, Mom, I’m headed to the airport now,” I say, trying my best to sound chipper.

“I’m just so excited to see you,” my mother says, making me feel a bit of guilt. I love my mother. I really do.

I’m just nervous. I’d never voice that to her, however.

“I’ll call you once I land.”

“Do you need me to pick you up?” my mother asks into the phone.

“No need. I can catch an Uber, Mom.”

My mother scoffs into the phone. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Mom. I’m a grown woman.”

“Okay good. Your father invited somebody special to spend the holidays with us.”

I inwardly groan, hoping it’s not my great aunt Gertrude. “Who?”

“Hmm,” she hums.

“Mom, who did he invite?”

I can tell my mother is smiling even though I can’t see her. “Oh, I have to go. There’s somebody at the door.”

Before my mother can hang up, I shout, “There’s nobody at the door.” And the call drops.

I leave my dorm, and head downstairs to wait for the Uber to take me to the airport. It’s chilly here in North Carolina, but not as chilly as it’ll be in Colorado this time of year.

The Uber arrives and drops me off at the airport without incident. As soon as I check in for my flight and make my way to the bar, I slump into a nice barstool.

Who’s coming as a special guest to my parent’s house? It could be anyone. I hope it’s not my ex-boyfriend, Chandler. My parents loved him, and sometimes I think they still hope we’ll one day get back together.

Chandler was a nice guy. There was just no chemistry. Honestly, I think it’s mainly because I was secretly in love with York, I couldn’t give Chandler my undivided attention. Which wasn’t fair to him.

So, I broke it off.

Chandler’s happy now. Or so I heard. I think he’s engaged to somebody new. I’m not really sure. Maybe I should check my socials a few times a week instead of secretly obsessing over a certain hockey player.

“What can I get for you?” the bartender asks me.

I give her a weak smile. “A vodka and soda, please.”

“Heading home for the holidays?” the bartender, with a name tag that reads, Wendy, smiles back at me.

I nod. “Yeah.”

She makes my drink. “Families can be tough.”

“It’s not even my family I’m worried about. Every year…” my words fall away when I realize Wendy is no longer paying any attention to me. Instead she’s frozen, staring over my shoulder, her mouth hanging open. “Are you okay?” I ask, peeking over my shoulder to see what’s caught her attention.

Oh.

I see.

Standing in all his glorious beauty is York Steele. Yes, the York Steele.

“Howdy,” York says. “Can I sit here?” He points to the barstool beside me.

Both Wendy and I are momentarily stunned into silence as York’s larger-than-life presence sucks all the air out of the bar.

“Hi,” I say with a blush.

Wendy slides my drink over to me, slowly. I honestly don’t even think she’s finished making it, and as I sip it, there’s no soda at all. Vodka only. I don’t mind though.

I need the liquid courage.

“You're York Steele,” Wendy says, ever the observant bartender. Her eyes are huge as she stares unabashedly at York.

He nods. “Last time I checked.” He winks at me as he slides into the barstool. “Hey you,” he says to me, nudging my elbow with his. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“You know him?” Wendy asks me.

I smile. “He’s practically family.”

Wendy smiles, realizing she has a job to do and snaps to attention. “Can I get you a drink, sir,” she says to York, nervously.

“I’ll just take a Puppy Pilsner.”

She nods. “Atta Boy brews some great beer.” Wendy grabs a pint glass and pours York a beer and drops it off. She moves away to help a few other customers at the other end of the bar.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him as I take another sip of my pure vodka.

“We just played the North Carolina Bears, now I’m heading to your father’s house for the holidays.”

My eyes widen. “Really?”

“I know you probably don’t watch the games, but yeah, we won. Thanks to yours truly.” York smiles wide and I blush.

Of course I caught the game, but don’t want him to know I watched it and fantasized about York making his last goal for me, and crushing his lips to mine after the game. “I meant, really? You’re coming to my parent’s house for the holiday?”

His blue eyes crash into mine. “Yep. You get to spend four whole days with me.”

I take another long sip of my vodka. “Oh, lucky me.”