Chapter 1

One

LOU

S kate, shoot, score. It's the same mantra I've had since I picked up my first hockey stick. Today is no different as it repeats in my head as I circle the practice rink and pass the puck to Nate. Nate, the forward and oldest guy on the team, slaps the puck to one of the new guys on the team. Shane joined the team in time for training camp and to replace Matt; since Matt decided he wanted to get all cozy with my sister and his agent landed him a good contract with the big leagues. They're blissfully in love in Tennessee where I can't give him a hard time on the ice for kissing my little sister. Even if she'd argue it's not her fault I was the first twin born.

Of course thinking about them, leads me to think of how Maria convinced Hannah to go to that stupid speed dating event where Hannah and Matt started flirting. Before that night Matt was a perfectly respectable friend and teammate who listened to my warning to stay away from my sister. After that night, I kept catching them making cow eyes at each other whenever they thought the other wasn't looking.

"Lou, head in the game," Nate calls out to me as the puck slides right by me into the stick of a defender waiting for his chance to steal it.

The defender, a rookie barely able to tie his skates, takes the puck from me and skates it toward the goal. We're playing three on two, and I've let them down. I switch up my direction to chase after it, but Shane beats me down the ice and gets the puck back before shooting it toward the goal. He scores and the lineup changes. The three of us move off to the side as the new group lines up.

Shane looks at me and shakes his head. "Man, you've gotta cleanse your energy. Way too much bad stuff going on there."

Nate and I share a look as we skate over to the boards where our water waits. Nate stops next to me, "You're going to end up with the lemon if you keep playing like that."

"I know."

"What's got you so sour?" He asks.

Crossing my hands over my heart dramatically, I tell him. "Oh, ow! A lemon joke, how you wound me."

He just rolls his eyes. "Shake it off. You'll get it next lineup."

But I know I won't, I might be saying my mantra, but I wasn't able to follow my routine today, and as a result I'm not playing well. I won't play well until I've cleared away all my bad energy, according to the new guy. Good thing I know what it'll take to fix it, even if the thought of it makes me queasy.

Nate skates over to the Shane to say some words to him.

Probably something complimentary seeing as he was able to score against Daniel. Our goalie is one of the best in the ECHL and if there was an opening in the NHL, I have no doubt he'd be called up. The man knows how to stop a biscuit.

Coach blows a whistle and the drill comes to an end.

"Alright team, time for lemon or lemon." Coach says.

"Isn't it supposed to be lemon or orange?" Shane asks.

Coach doesn't answer, simply says, "Line it up."

There's groaning among the team, and the Shane look around confused as we all move into position. The assistant coach, Coach York, produces a familiar bakery box. It's a box as white as the fresh ice in the rink, with Maria's logo printed on a sticker across the top. Coach York lifts the lid and shows off a lone lemon bar inside.

I shout in surprise, "That's mine!"

There are chuckles all around. All last season, and training camp, the team gave me a hard time over the lemon bars from the bakery since it's the only thing Maria will let me have. Nate slaps a gloved hand on my shoulder. "Have to earn it."

I glare at him. My lemon bar was missing from the bakery order this morning, and the smile on his face tells me that the one the assistant coach is holding is it.

"That's my Left-Wing Lemon Bar," I tell him, emphasizing the name.

Coach Hart interrupts whatever Nate was going to say to explain the rules. The rules for this drill are simple. Everyone lines up, everyone shoots, if you miss you're out of the line. Those still in the line continue to try and score when it's their turn. The line slowly whittles down until only one person is left who hasn't missed a goal. They'll win my lemon bar.

If you fail to score, you join the regular Lemon Line. That line operates similarly, except if you score, you're out of that line. Only those who haven't scored stay in that line until there's one person left who hasn't put the puck in the goal. That person has to take a bite out of a lemon, not a lemon bar.

Coach looks at me. "Hoffman, you're up."

Normally the winner of the first line gets to eat an orange or some other treat the coach approves of, the fact that Coach is using a lemon bar today lets me know that he's calling me out.

My game's been slipping and everyone knows it.

I take my position and cradle the puck with my stick as I skate it toward the goal.

Skate, shoot, score.

Lemons.

Maria.

My rhythm falters, and just as I'm reaching the goal where Dan is set up, I wind up and flex the stick to start the sweep. My stick moves as I bring it closer, and my knee twinges, sending a jolt up my leg just as the sweet sound of the sweep rings in my ears, but the twinge was enough. The puck is in the wrong spot now. My stick hits the puck at the wrong angle, and instead of snapping it into the open net of the goal, the puck is sent into the goal post.

The sound rings like a gong announcing my failure. The team is silent behind me.

Dan didn't even need to touch it, and even with his helmet on, I can see the pity in his eyes.

It's official. I'm having the worst season of my career, and the season hasn't even started. I don't bother looking at anyone else as I skate to where Coach has set a lemon on the ice. Looks like I'm first in line for the lemon line.

The game moves on, the rest of my team and even the coach and assistant coach all playing for the lemon bar. Nate scores, as does Shane, and a couple others initially. For all of them that join me in the lemon line, Dan blocked the shot. The line moves down to Nate and Shane and it's proof of why they're both on the team.

Fans and experts speculate when Nate will retire, the man is in his thirties and most players his age don't have the ability to keep up. Nate is proof that experience outweighs youth as he squares up against Dan. The two of them have been on the same team for a long time, and Nate does a quick change-up of the angle and with a backhand shot sends the puck into the net.

Nate alone is left in the lemon bar line, earning the box with my lemon bar in it. When he looks my way I give him a nod of respect. He earned it.

He grins, and pulls off one of his gloves in order to lift the lid off the box. Then he lifts the big square lemon bar out. It's covered in powdered sugar, and has a thick yellow layer of lemon curd on top of Maria's heavenly shortbread cookie crust. The combination of sweet and tart is perfection, much like the baker herself, even if she hates me for no rational reason.

I frown at that thought and wish I knew what went wrong where Maria is concerned. Asking her certainly hasn't provided clarity. Not even Hannah or Nate's fiancé Lia have been able to get the story out of her. The beautiful stubborn woman is determined to hate me, and I'm determined to win her over.

Nate skates over to me, powdered sugar on his fingers as he licks them clean. "I see why you love these so much and won't let the rest of us have any."

I grunt in response. It's easier than admitting to the truth, I hate lemons.

The acidic abominations all belong in the dumpster as far as I'm concerned. Except for the fact that I need them. Without them, I lose and I can't lose.

"Lemon line, let's go!" Coach shouts.

I'm first again to no one's surprise. Squaring off against Dan is no joke, he's big, and fast. So am I.

Skate, shoot, score.

Lining up the puck is the easy part, and it goes exactly where I want it this time. I don't even have to watch it glide across the ice and straight into Dan's waiting glove. That's where I wanted it to go.

Traditions, superstitions, and rituals. As I look around the team I can name each one of theirs, and my oldest superstition started on the lemon line. I come to a stop at the back of the line, and we repeat the rounds. Each time I shoot I miss and take my turn at the back of the line. Shane takes two times through the line before he scores . Coach hits the puck, and Dan makes a show of trying to stop it and failing. Then it's just scoreless me on the line with the yellow lemon sitting on the ice.

Coach picks it up and holds it out to me. "Hoffman, you've won yourself a lemon."

I nod, and take the lemon from him. Checking the peel over to make sure it's good, and that it isn't mushy. I made that mistake once only to discover a lemon that had turned after biting into it. This lemon though, it's still as perfect as it was when I gave it to Coach before practice this morning.

Bracing myself, I lift the lemon high to toast my team, and then before I can hesitate I take a bite big enough that I'll need to spit out a couple seeds. The team cheers and laughs, and one by one they all slap me on the shoulder or give me a fist bump. Shane even pauses for an extra moment to tell me, "Your energy's better now." Then he skates away with the other guys toward the locker room now that practice is over.

Coach shakes his head, and now that the others are gone he tells me. "Two years in a row. I'd have thought you'd be sick of eating lemons by now."

"That why you stole my lemon bar?" I ask him.

"Thought those were your new superstition."

Shock leaves me speechless.

"What? Were you trying to keep that a secret?" He asks. "When it comes to this team I know everything. While eating lemon bars might not be on the approved list the trainers hand out, it worked last season."

Accepting that he knows I shrug. "It's a whole lot better than biting into a lemon every game."

He makes a face. "That's what you did before?"

I nod.

"Still better than Matt's lucky socks. I won't miss that in the locker room this season."

"If you know I need the lemon bars so much, why did you take mine this morning?"

Coach gives me a big toothy grin. "I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't challenge you. Wanted to see if the lemon bar on the line would work as well as the lemon. Nice touch putting the puck into the goal post. Now get cleaned up."

Shaking my head I skate towards the locker room.

Yes, I hate lemons, but for the love of the game and my career, I need them. Missing that goal post shot wasn't on purpose. If I'd had one of my lucky charms this morning I wouldn't have missed. Back in the locker room I use my phone to put in the order for Maria's daily lemons. I won't be going without a lemon bar again this season.

A fter thoroughly brushing my teeth, an extra round of mouthwash, and gum, I finally get rid of the lemon taste in my mouth. The drive through Glacier Bay isn't bad and I'm enjoying the sunny day with my windows down as I hop on the highway out of the city. The radio DJ reminds people to submit names for the new ice resurfacing machine at the arena.

Already there are two fan favorites taking the lead, the Glacier-nator to honor the city, and the Ice Bear to honor the mascot. I don't bother listening to the rest of the debate between the two names as I take the exit for Crestfield. It's a small town, and I don't even know if it has proper stoplights since my stop isn't really in town. I park my Jeep outside of a partially renovated farm Gabby & Gavin own.

Familiar with the property, I don't bother with the clinic building, and instead I enter the big barn. Kennels line one of the walls, and I grab the muck tools from where they wait by the wall.

"Look what the cat dragged in."

I turn to see Gavin grinning at me.

"Yeah well, it's you it'll drag out," I tell him.

He lets out a chuckle. "Thanks for coming out. Gabby and I have been swamped with working on some of the renovations and I know cleaning up after the dogs isn't glamorous for a hockey star like you."

"Hey it needs to be done, besides I can't take a selfie with poop in the background."

Gavin shakes his head. "You know the routine. Stop by the house on the way out. We'll feed you dinner."

The first kennel I approach is for my favorite dog Cinnamon. She's brown like the spice and sweet too with her fuzzy tail wagging so fast it makes her whole body wiggle. When I enter her kennel to clean up, she immediately lifts her front paws so she's standing on her back legs. On just the two legs she's tall enough to reach my chest and she tries to lick my face.

I set the tools aside and using both my hands rub behind her big floppy ears. Her fur is soft and I crouch down to Cinnamon's level where she proceeds to lick at my face while I keep petting her. After she's calmed down a smidge, I pull a treat out of my pocket for her and then while she's distracted I hurry to clean up what I need to.

It's the same process with the other kennels, and I'm happy to discover that two of the dogs that were here on my last visit have been adopted. I hope that Cinnamon will find her forever home one day soon. She's been living at the rescue for long enough now, and living at a shelter Gavin knew before that, and I'm sure she'd be a good dog for someone.

Gavin returns just as I'm giving Cinnamon a second treat.

He watches me for a minute, then asks, "Want to adopt her?"

Crouched next to her so I can give her belly rubs I tell him. "It wouldn't be fair. I live in an apartment and travel a lot. She deserves a home with a yard."

"We both agree she deserves a good home, and you are welcome to come out to spend time with her as much as you want. Want to walk her before dinner? It'll be ready soon, just need to ask how you like your steak and I thought I'd give you hand with clean up, but you got it all done."

My head snaps up, and I don't have to be asked twice before I've grabbed the leash and I'm hooking it to her collar.

"Rare is good," I tell him as I leave the barn with Cinnamon.

She practically prances as we walk past him to follow the trail around the farm yard. Gabby and Gavin haven't completely finished the renovations for the clinic and home, but they were able to get the barn operable enough for the dogs to be rescued after a bad storm hit the area and the county shelter needed to send the animals somewhere else.

Cinnamon sniffs at each rock or bush, and I'm content to let her as we mozy around the barnyard.

My phone buzzes, and I pull it out to find a text in my family chat.

Hannah: What is the plan for Thanksgiving? Matt and I are trying to figure out flights after his game.

Me: I'll bring Cinnamon with me.

Mom: I thought you stopped dating her? What kind of woman are you bringing into my home????

Me: She's a good kisser.

Hannah: TMI. I do not need to think about you kissing someone named Cinnamon.

Me: Tell Matt I say hi.

Hannah: He says good for you.

Mom: Won't Cinnamon need to spend the holiday with her family? Thanksgiving is a time for family and it feels right that she should celebrate with hers....

She goes on in her not-so-subtle way of saying she doesn't approve of a woman named Cinnamon even if she's never met her. I look down at the floppy-eared beauty currently sniffing intently at a patch of grass. Since Valentine's, every time my mom asked if I was seeing anyone I'd reply with a name from one of the kennels. Her response to the name Coco-Sprinkles was particularly memorable.

"Think it's time to tell her you're not a human?" I ask Cinnamon. "Am I a horrible son to let her think I've been dating all this time when I haven't been?"

Missy: She can't be worse than Carrie.

The mention of my ex is enough to kill any guilt from lying to my family about my dating life. Better that they think I'm dating a woman named Cinnamon than know I haven't dated since Carrie and I broke up. I silence my phone and slip it back into my pocket so I can enjoy the rest of the walk with Cinnamon.

Over a dinner of fresh corn, green beans, and steak with Gabby and Gavin I tell them how Dan and Nate are doing.

"I can't believe it hasn't even been a year since since Dan's wedding," Gabby says and smiles up at Gavin.

He looks at her and grins at whatever secret they share, and I feel like I'm intruding on their moment.

Clearing my throat I say. "Yeah, crazy how you two got stuck with me because of it."

Gabby laughed hard enough for the curls in her auburn hair to bounce, and we finished eating as they told me of their plans for the farm.