The frozen earth crunched under the rental car tires as we pulled up the long driveway to Mark’s family’s home. The bent tree branches hovered over the car, and the weight of the snow burdened the damp wood as we drove underneath them. My stomach was jumping rope, and my heart pounded as the first glimpse of the house came into view. It was smaller than I’d expected and incredibly quaint. White vinyl siding covered the majority of the box-shaped, two-story farmhouse. Black shutters hung alongside the front windows that were adorned with pine garland and red bows for Christmas.
“This is it.” Mark’s husky voice pulled my eyes to his.
He was smiling, and it could’ve been the bright white of the snow that blanketed the ground reflecting in his gaze, but he was absolutely beaming. Mark was home, and the way the corners of his mouth reached and stretched into his eyes, my heart squeezed and sighed with something I wasn’t ready for.
My lips parted in reaction to the handsome spectacle sitting next to me. “It’s beautiful.”
He reached across the console, his fingers toying with a piece of my hair. “It’s small, but it never felt like that to me growing up. My mom was really good at making everything seem larger than life.”
I took in the wide expanse of land on either side of his home. I could see another structure to the left sitting far back from the main house. “What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s the cider house and…” he pointed to the left and then to the right, “All of that behind it is our orchard.”
Trees stretched for what seemed like a mile or more behind the cider house. “Wow.”
He chuckled. “It’s a shitload of work, but my dad is good at what he does. I always felt guilty growing up. Farming isn’t known for its big salaries, and with a daughter in figure skating and a son in hockey, he worked hard for us.” Mark stared at the house. The lights were on and the clouds rolled in making the noon sun disappear. The yellow glow from the windows seemed to invite us in. “I helped pay off the mortgage after my first two years with the NHL.”
“You did?” I asked in disbelief, letting my eyes roam all that land, it must have cost a small fortune.
“It was the least I could do.” He swallowed and his mouth tipped into my favorite crooked smile. “Wait till you see the rink out back, my dad built it when I was little and the fucking thing still stands. Poppy loves coming here to skate when it’s cold enough to have ice.”
His warm timbre soothed away my anxiety, and the way he spoke about his family, he made me want to know them, to be a part of something like that. I’d never had what he did, but I wanted it. Wanted them. “Should we go inside?”
“You ready?”
I nodded. “I think I am.”
Mark cut the engine. “Wait here,” he said and opened the driver side door. The cold blast of air made the hair on my arms stand at attention, and I watched as he walked around the car. He opened my door and held out his hand. “This driveway gets icy as hell. I’ll have my dad help with our bags later.”
I was wearing skinny jeans, a thin green sweater, and Converse. Looking at the piled snow on either side of the drive, I immediately realized I hadn’t packed appropriately. “This Florida girl is not prepared.” I laughed as I took his hand in a death grip and stepped out of the car.
“I probably should’ve given you a heads up on how cold it gets here.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“I’m sure my mom or my sister has a pair of boots and a coat you can borrow if you need it.” He kissed my cold cheek. “It’s only three days, I don’t plan on doing much more than relaxing on the couch and stuffing my face with food.”
“And no shenanigans?” I asked dryly.
“I make no promises.”
I took a deep breath as we moved toward the house.
Ignoring, or more like pretending my heart wasn’t spazzing out, I flashed Mark a smile as he reached for the door knob.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Warm, spiced air pooled inside my lungs as we stepped inside. Laughter filtered into the small foyer from the back of the house. The living room, colored in earth tones and dark wood, was empty. The television was on, the volume low, playing hockey highlights. Mark released my hand long enough to pull off his jacket and hang it on the coat rack installed into the wall next to the front door.
He laced his fingers through mine again and yelled, “Mom? Dad?” It made me jump and he laughed under his breath. “Easy, girl.”
I smacked his shoulder, giving him my “definitely no damn shenanigans for you” glare.
“I’m sure he deserved that.” A woman who looked about my age stood by the couch, a wide grin on her round face. She was shorter than me, but not petite by any means. Her athletic shape was apparent in her black leggings and tight, long-sleeved thermal. “The prodigal son returns.”
“More like Mom’s favorite. Get your ass over here, Mol.”
Her soft features became almost childlike as her smile grew beyond broad. She hopped in place before bounding toward Mark. He swallowed her into his arms, a deep laugh, and… was she crying?
She sniffed as he set her onto her feet. A laugh mixed with a sob barked from her full lips as she wiped under her eyes. “It’s been too long.” She hugged him again and he ruffled her long chestnut-colored hair.
Mark tugged on her sleeve. “You guys went skating without me?”
“You know how Poppy is.” She glanced at me, and then back at Mark, biting back a smile. “My brother has the worst manners, you can thank all the years he spent on a bus with a bunch of hooligan hockey players.” She held out her hand. “I’m Molly.”
“Shit, sorry. This is my sister and Molly; this is my girlfriend, Stevie.”
I took her hand and she pulled me into a hug. My spine straightened for the briefest of seconds and she whispered, “Don’t let us scare you, Mark is a keeper.”
I relaxed as she released me and gave her a shy smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Where’s Dax?” Mark asked and Molly groaned.
“He’s stuck in Denver, nothing is flying out with the storm.”
“Work?” Mark asked and Molly nodded.
Mark had told me Dax sold farming equipment and traveled a lot for work. He’d said it was hard for his sister that her husband was gone all the time.
“Will he miss Christmas?” I found myself asking and watched as Molly’s smile wavered.
“His first,” she said.
An annoyed grunt sounded in the back of Mark’s throat. “You’d think Denver would have their shit together when it comes to snow.”
“That’s what I said.” Molly laughed and she ran her hand through her hair. “Oh well, he does what he does so I can stay at home with Poppy. Sacrifice, it’s part of life.”
“Where is Poppy anyway?”
“In the kitchen… Dad’s driving Mom crazy, hovering over the damn turkey, as per usual. Poppy is trying to distract him with Boston stats.” Molly smirked.
“Oh, yeah? What year?” Mark asked.
“Nineteen-seventy-nine.”
“Nice.” Mark leaned down and kissed my cheek. “My niece is a walking hockey encyclopedia. I tease her that she should work at the hockey hall of fame.”
“And she promptly reminds Mark that she’s only eight.”
“Almost nine.”
I laughed and any remaining weariness I had about meeting the family faded. Molly smiled at me and it was the real deal. Her eyes were curious, but open and friendly. Mark beamed again as he lowered his eyes to mine.
“I’m excited to meet her,” I admitted.
Molly snorted, but there was humor in her eyes when she said, “I’ll remind you of that very statement after she offends you the first time.” She waved her thumb over her shoulder. “Come on, they’re all probably in there eavesdropping anyway.”
She turned first and Mark leaned down to kiss me with tender lips, leaving me a bit light in the knees.
“Hey,” I whispered.
He kissed me again, but this time his free hand cupped the back of my head, pulling me into the warmth of his body. When I opened my eyes, his sister was gone. “Thanks for braving this.”
I curled the fingers of my right hand into the fabric of his shirt. “So far I feel like you’ve oversold the crazy.” I grinned.
Mark tipped his chin, his lips brushing my forehead as the heat of his breath washed over me making me shiver. “I care about you, and they know it, they’ll be on their best behavior.”
I care about you.
I knew he cared about me, and I cared about him, more than I thought possible, but he’d never said it outright.
He chuckled as he leaned back and considered me. “Don’t look so freaked. I promise, my family is harmless, I like messing with you.”
“I know.” I breathed in and out letting those four words feed my pulse.
“Come on.”
Mark had been truthful in his assessment of his family. They were completely harmless. And pretty damn cute, if I was being honest. His mother made the word jolly seem sweeter in person. She had dark brown hair cut to her chin and was about the same height as her daughter but softer in the hips. She’d accosted me with hugs when we’d walked into the kitchen an hour ago. His dad, a bear of man, and the spitting image of his son, had given me the same reception as his wife. His hug had practically crushed me, and it hadn’t been until Mark cleared his throat, twice, that his father set me back on my feet.
The only person who hadn’t yet warmed up to me was Poppy. She’d given me a wave, a once over, and had been quiet while Mark’s parents and sister asked me about my life over sandwiches and cider. Poppy’s dark eyes had followed my every move and I’d been too nervous, spewing all the details about my hippy mother, to get a chance to engage her in conversation. She sat on the breakfast nook bench, lacing up her skates, eyeing me from under her black lashes. Mark and his sister were upstairs digging through a trunk filled with Molly’s old skates in hopes to match me with a pair. His mother had lent me a coat and I fiddled anxiously with the zipper, trying to listen to Mark’s parents talk in the other room. Their words were muffled and I laughed to myself when I heard his mother grumble about the amount of sage her husband put in the stuffing for tomorrow.
“It’s every year.” Poppy’s stoic voice commanded attention.
I turned and fell into the gaze of the little girl. “Christmas?” I asked and her features crumbled into a scowl that made me feel stupid.
“The Great Turkey Debate. Grand Dad always puts too much sage in the stuffing. And Grandma always makes a separate batch.” She blinks a few times. “Do not eat Grand Dad’s stuffing.”
I wait for a smile that never comes, giving her one of my own. “Thanks for the advice.”
“Do you know how to skate?” I shook my head. “Mia knew how to skate.”
My heart fell to the floor and I almost looked down at the mess. Mark had warned me Poppy was implacable when it came to facts, truths, and honesty.
“Maybe you could teach me?” I asked.
Her mouth twitched. “That is a feasible option. But, my mother is a coach. That would benefit you better.” She leaned back and I flicked my eyes to her feet. She wore hockey skates with the laces tied in tight bows. “Did you know Mark was drafted at the age of nineteen?” I nodded. “He’s played five hundred and forty games for the NHL and has two hundred and ten career goals.”
“He’s a great player.”
My statement earned me a nod and a small curve of her lips as she whispered, “The best.” I could hear Mark and Molly stomping down the stairs and I glanced at the doorway.
“You’re much prettier than Mia.”
I froze. My eyes wide, my greedy mouth pulling into an involuntary grin as I faced Poppy. “Thank you.”
She lifted her shoulders. “Your face is much more symmetrical, and I like your hair. It looks soft.” I unconsciously smoothed my hand over the waves I came by naturally. “Mia didn’t smile as much as you.”
The ache in my chest was a living, breathing thing as Poppy’s words absorbed. Mark had told me how Mia had never wanted to go with him to Toronto. How she’d never wanted to help out at the special needs hockey camp he donated his time and money to every year. Mark had gotten into a fight with Mia’s boyfriend this year because of the terrible name he’d called Poppy, and I wondered if Mia had been cold to Poppy when she’d visited.
I didn’t like the frown that was growing on Poppy’s lips. “I smile too much sometimes.”
She blinked at me. “That’s okay. My mom told me that you use less muscles to smile than you do to frown. This is a falsehood, but I understand her reasoning.”
My light laughter was out of place in the quiet kitchen. Poppy was eight going on forty. “I think I like you, Poppy Grayson.”
Her lips twitched again as she watched me, the moment only lasting two, maybe three seconds before a strong hand rested on my shoulder and a deep, familiar voice warmed my stomach. “I found a pair of skates.”
“That took forever, let’s go.” Poppy stood, grabbing the hockey stick resting next to the back door of the kitchen.
“You’re so bossy,” Mark teased as he handed me the skates he’d found.
“Who do you think she learned it from?” Molly laughed as she walked into the kitchen holding two hockey sticks.
My pulse jumped as I gawked at the weapons in her hands. “Um… what are those for?” I asked, my voice taking on a high pitch.
Poppy’s brows dipped deeply with confusion, and what I thought might be a bit of irritation. “They’re used to hit the puck… Uncle Mark… have you not taught her the basics?”
Poppy’s question was earnest and it made me like her even more.
Mark pressed his lips together. His smile only obvious in the dimples popping in his cheeks. “No, kiddo, I haven’t.” She glared at him and I let a laugh slip. “But I will…” He held up both of his hands. “I promise, as soon as we get her skates on.”
Poppy gave a quick nod of her head and disappeared out the back door.
“She’s worse than my coaches.” Mark kneeled down in front of me. “Can I help?” he asked taking a skate from my lap.
Molly leaned against the door frame. “She told me she wants to play for the Bruins. I told her not to tell Grand Dad, he’d be devastated.”
“He’s not a fan.” I surmised.
“We were born Toronto fans, didn’t I tell you?” Mark asked.
Molly snickered. “She’s been throwing Boston stats at him all day, I think he looked nauseous at one point. How many factoids did she hit you with while we were gone?”
I slid my foot into the skate and Mark began the process of tightening and tying as I answered, “Not too many…” I hesitated, not sure if I should mention what she’d said about Mia. “Mostly Mark facts.”
He took the other skate from my lap, meeting my gaze. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”
“Something about NHL goals and games.” He chuckled and held my calf as I slipped my foot into the other skate. His fingertips dug into the muscle and a puddle of heat gathered in my belly.
“Hopefully she didn’t bore you too much.” Molly’s tone was filled with mirth. She exhaled. “You guys have fun, I’m gonna help Mom make her second bowl of stuffing for tomorrow. Tell Poppy one hour, alright, Christmas morning comes early.”
“I don’t think I’ll make it an hour,” I said.
Molly scoffed. “Just sneak away after the first ten minutes, they’ll never notice.”
Mark tapped his palm on the ankle of my skate before he stood. “Not true.”
“You and Poppy always get lost in your own little private hockey bubble…” Molly’s eyes met mine. “Seriously, Stevie, head on in after a few, and you can learn how to make the proper stuffing… there’s hard cider, too.”
It had started to snow again. My warm-blooded veins liked the offer she’d presented. “I might take you up on that.”
Mark held out his hands and I wobbled to my feet.
“Have fun,” Molly said again before leaving us alone together.
He held my face. “You can be a poor sport and leave early if you want. I won’t mind at all.” His lips spread into an easy grin. “Hanging in there?”
I kissed his top lip and he lowered his hands to my waist. “Your family is amazing.”
“I think so, but I’m biased. Poppy is—”
“She said my face was more symmetrical than Mia’s.”
He cringed. “Shit, I’m sorry, she’s too—”
“I really like Poppy.”
His light brown eyes flared. “I heard.”
“You did?” I whispered.
Mark didn’t answer me with words. First, his nose touched mine, gentle and soft. He leaned his head to the side, his eyes on me. His kiss was sweet and my arms slid around his neck, and I didn’t care my ankles were starting to hurt, or that I was going to have to hold a stick and try to hit a small disc, all while trying not to fall on my butt. Mark’s tongue swept across my lips and I opened for him. He tasted like apple cider and longing. My heart answered to the memories his lips created with heavy thudded beats.
He kissed my bottom lip once and pulled away with a satisfied hum.
“You’re about to get your ass handed to you by an eight year old.”
I let my head fall into his chest as I grumbled, “Don’t remind me.”