Lucky Hit (Swift Hat-Trick Trilogy Book 1)

Somehow, over the past few weeks between exams and hockey game after hockey game, Christmas is only a couple of sleeps away.

It’s cold and wet. Snow has fallen to cover the ground only to melt and freeze again, leaving the roads slick with ice. It’s an absolute nightmare. One that’s the culprit of the unexpected extra hour we’ve had to add to our drive from Van to Oakley’s mother’s house in Penticton.

Tyler has barely spoken the entire drive so far, not after I denied his pleas to drive. I think his sullen mood might have more to do with his nerves regarding even coming to this dinner in the first place, but when Anne Hutton invites you to dinner, according to Oakley, you go. No questions asked.

In all the years I’ve known Tyler, he’s kept his personal life pretty close to his chest, and I can admit that makes me sad. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to piece together that family isn’t a term he’s accustomed to, not when he’s never once spoken about his or left to visit them to anyone’s knowledge.

Anne picked up on it too, if her suddenly inviting him to Christmas dinner is anything to go off. To say he was surprised by the invitation would be putting it lightly, but there was no way he could resist that pleading smile of hers.

I drum my fingers on the steering wheel and stare at the sheet of white in front of me. The wind has picked up over the last hour and blows the snow over the road, making it even harder to see where we’re going.

“How close are we?” I ask my surly co-pilot.

He looks at the GPS on his phone. “Ten minutes now. Take a left once you see the stoplight.”

Right. If I can see anything in this storm at all.

“At this rate, I won’t see it, and we’ll end up in a ditch.”

“You can pull over and let me drive.”

I huff, wanting to glare at him but not wanting to risk looking away from the road. “No. I’m a great driver.”

“I would prefer being in control if we wound up spinning out of control.”

“Luckily for you, we won’t be doing any spinning,” I reply. Tyler makes an annoyed grumbling noise but doesn’t speak. “You’re upset about something other than this stupid storm. Wanna talk about it?”

“Do I want to? No.”

“Will you? It might help, you know. Let it off your chest.”

A pause. “Is it weird for me to come today?”

My brows tug together. “Why would it be weird?”

“I’m not a part of their family. It feels weird to go.”

“I’m not family either.”

From the corner of my eye, I catch Tyler looking at me curiously. “You’re Oakley’s family.”

“Oh,” I breathe, my stomach suddenly a mess of fluttering wings. “I guess so.”

“It’s different for you. I’m just . . . what? A pity invite?”

The flutters are gone as fast as they appeared. An ache grows in their place. Oh, Tyler. “No. I don’t think it was pity at all.”

His laugh is dark. “Really? Then what was it?”

“Anne is very similar to my mom. All she wants is for people to feel loved. You can look at that as pity, or you can look at it from a place of love. You deserve to spend Christmas with people who care about you instead of alone.”

Another pause, this one longer and heavier than the previous one. When Tyler responds, his voice sounds almost . . . uncomfortable? “Oakley’s sister will be there. She always stares at me like she’s trying to undress me.”

I laugh, so damn loudly. “Go easy on her, Ty. She’s a teen with a crush. One wrong word and you might as well rip her heart out and run it over with a semi-truck.”

“That’s dramatic,” he grunts.

“That’s a teenage girl for you. Dramatic and stubborn as hell.”

“Right.”

I narrow my eyes and see a brief flash of red break through the snow ahead. Slowly pressing the brake and flipping on the signal light, I bring us to a sliding stop in front of the traffic light.

“Finally,” I mutter.

Tyler clears his throat, and for the first time in hours, I turn to look at him instead of the windshield. His hair is beyond messy, sticking up in all sorts of directions and looking like he’s spent hours with his fingers tangling it up. When I twist my mouth in a nervous smile, he looks as shy as I think I’ve ever seen him.

“Got a bit anxious there for a bit,” he says.

I nod and turn back to the road just as the light turns green, and I make a cautious turn when oncoming traffic clears. “I think there are nail punctures in the steering wheel from how tight I was squeezing it.”

“Turn right at the school, and then the house is the second one from the corner.”

I just nod, not surprised when he changes the subject. We don’t speak again until I pull along the curb in front of an adorable bungalow decked out in multicoloured Christmas lights and inflatable lawn decorations.

“Oh,” Tyler says, his face strained like he’s trying not to show how much he hates the decorations.

“Me and Anne have more in common than I thought.”

Christmas has been my favourite holiday for as long as I can remember. Even in foster care, where we never really celebrated, I would cut out snowflakes from paper and string them up over my bed every single year. It was hardly a Christmas decoration, but for me, it was everything I needed. Cutting paper snowflakes is a tradition now, one all of my friends have taken part in over the last few years.

Without replying, Tyler’s undoing his seat belt and tugging his hood over his head before pushing open the door and getting a face full of snow. I stifle a laugh and watch him fight against the wind and move to the back seat, making quick work of grabbing our bags and throwing them over his shoulder.

As soon as I zip my jacket up all the way and pull my mittens on, I’m following after him, trying not to shiver when rogue pieces of snow slip beneath the top of my jacket and stick to my skin.

“Ava! Jesus Christ, do you not know how to answer your phone?” I hear Oakley shouting from somewhere ahead of us, but the howling wind doesn’t give me much to go off. Tyler reaches back for me and clasps a hand around my forearm, continuing up the sidewalk toward where I hope the house is.

It looks like the sidewalk has been shovelled recently, but with how the snow just keeps falling in piles, I really have no idea.

“I’m going to kick your ass, Tyler! Did you want to give me a fucking heart attack?”

I wince at the anger in Oakley’s voice. I told Tyler to text Oakley and let him know we would be late, but we were so focused on the road and the GPS that clearly, we could have done a better job of keeping him updated.

Tyler stumbles back a step, in turn making himself yank on my arm and forcing me to lose my footing. I’m squeezing my eyes shut and preparing to eat snow when I’m being caught mid-fall.

Storming green eyes snare mine when I look up and find Oakley standing over me. He tightens his grip on my arms and pulls me up and into his chest. I barely have time to appreciate the comfort his presence gives me before he’s moving us through the snow and up a set of freshly cleared stairs.

He whips a door open, and a wall of heat smacks right into me. Instantly, I sigh and let my body soften.

“Oh, my God! Look at you two! Come, come. Oakley, shut that door.” Anne brushes her son off me, wraps her arm around my back, and hurries me through the living room, parking me in front of a brick-walled fireplace.

My hands fly out toward the flames on their own. I release a long breath and shiver at the sudden change in temperature.

“I should have driven you,” Oakley states gruffly behind me before I’m being tugged back toward his chest. His arms wrap around my front, and he presses his palms to the top of my hands, keeping them in front of the fire.

“You got here two days ago, Oakley. Plus, I’m fine. We’re all in one piece. Just cold, and that has nothing to do with the drive.”

His stubbled jaw brushes my ear as he holds me. “I was worried.”

“I told Tyler to tell you we would be late.”

“He did. But my other texts went unanswered. I was close to going out and looking for you.”

Warmth beats at my cheeks. “Well, I’m here now.”

“Yes, you are,” he murmurs. “I’m going to bring your bag to my room. Stay here and warm up.”

He slowly backs away, and I look over my shoulder, catching his eye before he turns away. “Your room?”

Oakley arches a bushy brow. “You think you would stay anywhere else? Over my dead body.”

I laugh. “Right. My bad.”

“Be right back, baby.” He tosses me a wink and walks away.