Page 1 of Merry Pucking Christmas

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 sosomuch, 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.”