Page 18 of Merry Pucking Christmas

Of course they did. It’s barely eight a.m., and York’s already off being his usual superstar self. I should’ve known. He’s always been disciplined, the early bird who gets the worm or, in this case, perfects his skating before anyone else even gets out of bed. It’s probably one of the things that makes him so good at what he does.

I take a sip of coffee, the warmth spreading through me, trying to shake off the lingering awkwardness from last night. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, about the way York was so close, about the moment that never happened. It’s been gnawing at me, and I feel like I’m going to explode if I don’t talk to someone.

“Mom,” I start, leaning against the counter, feeling a bit like a teenager all over again. “Do you think this whole thing is weird? Faking a relationship with York? I mean, it’sYork Steelewe’re talking about here.”

Her eyes sparkle with amusement as she glances over her shoulder at me. “Weird? Maybe. But a lot of things in life are weird, sweetie. You’re helping your dad and York with this media situation. Besides, it’s not like you’re faking it with a stranger. You’ve known York for years.”

“Yeah, but he’s York Steele,” I repeat, the disbelief still clinging to me. “He’s... well, he’s him. Famous, talented, ridiculously good-looking.” I roll my eyes, trying to make it sound casual, but the words feel heavy. “It’s just... I don’t know, it feels surreal, like I’m waiting for someone to yell ‘cut’ and tell me the scene’s over.”

Mom pauses her pancake flipping, setting the spatula down as she turns to me with a knowing smile. “Noelle, you’ve been around York long enough to know he’s more than all that. Sure, the fame and the looks might make it feel bigger than life, but at the end of the day, he’s just a guy. And from what I’ve seen, a guy who cares about you.”

I open my mouth to argue, to say something about how this is all for show, but she gives me a look, the one that says she knows more than she’s letting on. I hate when she does that. When she acts like she sees right through me.

“He’s pretending,” I say, but my voice comes out softer than I intended. “It’s all part of the deal. For the cameras.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Is he?”

I don’t respond right away. I sip my coffee, the steam relaxing me slightly as I try to think. I’ve known York forever, but lately, there’s been something different. Something I can’t quite put my finger on. Last night, in the kitchen, the way he looked at me... it didn’t feel like acting. And maybe that’s what’s throwing me off. Maybe I want it to be more than just pretend.

“I don’t know,” I finally admit, the uncertainty weighing heavily on my chest.

Mom smiles gently, walking over to me and resting a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll figure it out, Noelle. Just don’t be afraid to let yourself feel something. Life’s too short for that.”

I nod, her words sinking in, but I’m still not convinced. It’s easier to think of this as a job. An arrangement. Anything more feels risky, and I’m not sure I’m ready to take that kind of risk. Not when it comes to York.

Chapter 13

York

“That’s right. Give it more,” Coach’s voice booms across the ice, echoing in the cold rink. I push harder, my legs burning as I skate down the ice, focusing on the puck in front of me. Early morning drills, the same routine since six a.m. But today, it’s like my body’s working against me, weighed down by the lack of sleep. I didn’t get a decent night’s rest. My head’s been a mess ever since that moment in the kitchen with Noelle.

I try to shake it off, trying to lose myself in the rhythm of the drills, but I can feel the exhaustion creeping in, slowing me down in ways that frustrate me. It’s like skating through mud.

“You okay, York?” Coach shouts again from the bench, his sharp eyes tracking my every move. He’s noticed, of course. He always notices.

I skate toward him, slowing to a stop just in front of the boards, the cold air biting at my face. My breath comes out in heavy puffsas I lean on my stick. “Rough night, that’s all,” I say, trying to brush it off like it’s nothing.

Coach raises an eyebrow, not buying it for a second. “You’re playing like your head’s somewhere else.” He taps his clipboard against the boards. “Whatever’s eating at you, sort it out. You’ve got a game in less than a week.”

I nod, knowing he’s right, but it’s easier said than done. My mind flashes back to Noelle, the way she looked at me last night, the tension hanging between us like a heavy cloud. I’ve known her forever, but lately, things have felt different. I don’t know how to explain it. Hell, I don’t even know if I want to explain it.

The puck skitters across the ice, and I chase after it, trying to focus on the drill. I go through the motions, but my heart’s not in it. My mind’s too tangled up in everything outside the rink—this whole fake dating thing with Noelle, the way she looked in the kitchen last night in that tiny tank top, the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about it when I should have been sleeping.

Coach blows the whistle, signaling the end of the drill, and I skate back toward the center. Sweat drips down the back of my neck, and my muscles scream for a break, but I force myself to keep going. I need this practice, need to get my head straight before I get out there on the ice for real. Hockey has always been my escape, the one place where everything else fades away. But today, even the rink feels off.

“You’re off your game, Steele,” Coach says as I glide back toward the bench. “Take five and get your head in the right place. We’ve got too much riding on this season for you to lose focus now.”

I nod again, wiping the sweat off my forehead with the back of my glove. I skate to the bench and take a seat, leaning forward torest my elbows on my knees, trying to catch my breath. My stick taps against the ice as I stare down at it, wondering why I can’t shake this feeling. Usually, I’m laser-focused, but today... it’s like the ice beneath my feet isn’t solid.

Noelle. She’s always been there, in the background of my life, but now, she’s right in the center of it, and I don’t know how to handle it. We’re pretending, sure, but it doesn’t feel fake anymore. Not when she’s looking at me like she did last night, or when I’m fighting the urge to pull her into my arms every time she’s near.

I shove those thoughts down as deep as I can. Coach is right. I need to get my head in the game. But as I take a deep breath and lace up my skates a little tighter, I know it’s not going to be easy.

Because the thing I’m trying to escape? It’s not just some passing thought or distraction.

It’s Noelle.

After another grueling thirty minutes of Coach pushing me to my limits, we finally call it quits. I’m grateful for the extra attention over the holiday break, but it doesn’t ease the weight of disappointment I feel for letting him down today. My mind has been everywhere but on the ice, and I know I need to get my head on straight.