All Chapters of Puck Around And Fall: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

I never planned on falling for a guy who smelled like frozen sweat and bad decisions. But here I was, standing in a hockey rink that felt like the inside of a walk-in freezer, watching my life implode in real time.My name is Avery Kane, and until three weeks ago, I lived in sunny San Diego where the only ice I dealt with came in my iced latte. Then Dad got the dream job: head coach of the Evergreen Eagles, Minnesota’s junior hockey powerhouse. Translation: pack up everything, say goodbye to my friends, my beach reads, and my dignity, and move to a town where the high school mascot is literally an angry bird on skates.“Ready to see the boys in action?” Dad asked, clapping me on the shoulder like I was one of his players. He was already in coach mode—whistle around his neck, clipboard in hand, hair sticking up from the static of his beanie.“Define ready,” I muttered, shoving my hands deeper into my pockets. My boots squeaked on the rubber mats as we stepped inside. The air hit me lik

The bonfire roared like it had something to prove, flames licking the night sky while half the town huddled around it in puffy coats and scarves. I’d layered up like a paranoid onion—thermal, hoodie, jacket, gloves—and still felt the cold biting through my boots as I picked my way across the snowy field behind the old mill. Music thumped from someone’s truck speakers, a mix of country and whatever playlist Finn had screamed was “fire.” Literal and figurative.Knox found me before I even reached the flames. He was wearing a green Eagles beanie pulled low, cheeks already pink from the cold, and the second he spotted me his whole face lit up like I was the goal he’d been waiting to score.“You came,” he said, breath fogging between us. “I was starting to think you’d chickened out and gone back to reading about dragons.”“Dragons don’t require frostbite,” I shot back, but I was smiling. Stupidly. He took my gloved hand without asking and tugged me toward the circle, his grip warm even thr

I stared at Finn's text until the screen went dark, then lit it up again, then let it go dark a second time like toggling a light switch was going to help me think straight. It didn't.Knox or Finn.The words sat in my chest like a puck lodged against the boards—stuck, vibrating, refusing to move cleanly in either direction.I typed back the safest, most cowardly response in the history of romantic entanglements: Probably just Knox and me tomorrow. But thanks for the marshmallows. Seriously.Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.Understood. Have fun, California. Layers, remember.No wink emoji. No teasing. Just that quiet, even warmth that made Finn Henderson somehow more dangerous than the guy who'd kissed me breathless against a pickup truck in a snowstorm. At least with Knox I knew where I stood—unsteady, sparking, tilted slightly off-axis. With Finn I felt steady, and steady was its own kind of terrifying when you'd spent four days in a place that already felt like it

Here is a list of things I did not expect to happen on my second day at Evergreen High:One: spill an entire iced coffee down the front of my white sweater in the middle of a packed hallway.Two: do it directly in front of the cheer squad's locker bay.Three: make eye contact with Riley Voss while it happened.Four through infinity: everything that followed.It started innocuously enough. I'd actually felt good leaving the house — dark jeans again, white chunky knit sweater, hair down for once instead of shoved under a beanie. Dad had looked up from his playbook and said, "You look nice, kid," which from a man who once wore the same tracksuit for four consecutive days meant genuinely something. I'd walked into Evergreen High with the energy of someone who had, marginally, figured out the geography.I had not figured out the geography.I was cutting through the east corridor — the fast route to AP Lit that Finn had shown me — when I hit the intersection by the vending machines at the e

Dad was doing the thing again.The thing where he stood at the stove stirring something that didn't need stirring, shoulders slightly too tense for a man who claimed he was just making dinner. The kitchen smelled like pot roast and effort, which in the Kane household was the universal signal for: *I heard something today and I'm figuring out how to bring it up without being annoying about it.*I dropped my bag by the door, peeled off my boots, and climbed onto the island stool. "Just say it."He looked up, caught. "Say what?""Whatever you're stirring that pot about."He set the spoon down, turned around, and leaned against the counter with his arms crossed. Coach face, but softer. Dad face underneath. "Finn mentioned the cafeteria thing."I let out a long breath through my nose. "Of course he did.""He wasn't tattling. He was checking in. There's a difference." Dad tilted his head. "Riley Voss.""Is a problem I am handling.""Avery.""Dad."He studied me for a moment the way he studi