She nods slowly, deadly serious. “I think it pissed him off. He likes a very specific climate.”
Okay, she has to be joking. Right?
...Right?
I look back at the elf. His eyes are still locked in like he’s trying to decide which of my limbs to gnaw off first.
“If that thing moves tonight, I’m grabbing my bag and getting the hell out.”
“To where?” she says, pulling the blanket up to her chin with an infuriating smirk. “You’ve got nowhere to go, Radman. You’re stuck here.” She wiggles her toes under the comforter. “Just like me.”
I glance at the closet, then back at the elf, still sitting there like it’s seconds from pouncing. “Okay, no. That thing is not staying out here with us. Absolutely not.” Before Jaylynn can object, I march across the room, snatch up the creepy little menace, and open the closet door. “Time for bed, Santa’s minion.” I drop it inside, shut the door, and give the knob a twist for good measure. When I turn back to the bed, Jaylynn’s staring at me like I just triggered a curse.
Her mouth hangs open slightly, eyes huge. She’s clutching the blankets like she’s in a horror movie, pulling them all the way up to her neck.
“What?” I ask.
She gives a slow, ominous shake of her head. “You shouldn’t have done that, Radman,” she whispers, voice full of doom.
My stomach dips. “Shit. He’s actually possessed, isn’t he?”
She doesn’t answer. Just grabs a mint off the nightstand and holds it out like a priest brandishing a crucifix. “You have to put this under your pillow. Now.”
I stare at it. “There’s… mint protocol?”
“Uh-huh.” She nods, dead serious. “You mess with the elf, you sleep with the mint. It’s the rule.”
I snort a laugh, but my fingers still close around the wrapped candy. “This is absolutely ridiculous.”
She levels me with a look. “I put one under my pillow the night he moved. I think it’s the only reason I survived.”
My laugh dies halfway out of my throat. I glance at the closet. Then slide the mint under my pillow. Just in case. “It won’t melt?” I ask.
“Not in this freezer of a room.” She flops back and grins smugly. “Honestly, I thought you hockey guys loved weird superstitions.”
“Some do,” I say, noncommittal.
But the truth settles heavier in my chest than I’d like. I used to have a whole routine. Gummy bears—red only. Right skate first. Same song before every game. Didn’t matter if it worked, it felt like control. Back when I played for the Providence Grizzlies, I did everything by the book—everything I was told. I stayed disciplined, stayed physical, played rough. Waited for my shot.
And watched other guys get the call-up.
Over. And over.
Eventually, I stopped believing the rituals mattered. Or maybe I just stopped letting myself hope.
It wasn’t until Jaylynn’s dad—Coach Quinn—called me into his office one day to tell me I was getting a shot with the Bucks. I still remember that day. Jaylynn had been there, all smiles and wide eyes. She looked proud of me. Like it actually meant something.
The Bucks wanted me as their enforcer. So, that’s what I do. It’s what the fans want. What the team expects. Better to stay in that role than try something more and fail in front of everyone.
Jaylynn nudges me out of the thought spiral. “Wait a second,” she says, pointing. “You used to eat red gummy bears before every game. I saw you do it back in high school. And even when you were playing for the Grizzlies. You always had that same little pouch.”
I blink, caught off guard that she remembers. “Yeah, well… I grew out of it.”
She tilts her head like she doesn’t believe me, but I don’t give her time to ask more.
“Is it okay if I take a shower?” I nod toward the closed bathroom door.
“Sure,” she says casually, then adds, “As long as you’re not afraid of the peppermint shower hose.”