Freezing the Puck

Freezing the Puck CEDAR RAPIDS RACOONS LASAIRIONA MCMASTER Copyright © 2023 by Lasairiona McMaster The moral right of Lasairiona McMaster to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the copyright, designs, and patents act of 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Your support for the Author’s rights is appreciated. All the characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, are purely coincidental. Contents Dedication 1. Savannah 2. Savannah 3. Justin Justin 4. Justin 5. Savannah 6. Savannah 7. Justin 8. Savannah 9. Justin 10. Savannah Justin 11. Savannah 12. Justin 13. Savannah 14. Justin 15. Savannah 16. Justin 17. Savannah 18. Justin 19. Savannah 20. Justin 21. Savannah 22. Justin 23. Savannah 24. Justin 25. Savannah 26. Justin 27. Savannah 28. Justin 29. Savannah 30. Justin 31. Savannah Epilogue Also by Lasairiona McMaster Author Note Acknowledgments About the Author Dedication For Micky, You touched more lives than I think you ever realized. I hope you’re in a better place reading all the books you can get your hands on. Thank you for being the best cheerleader and proofreader an author could have asked for. You are deeply, sorely missed. CHAPTER 1 Savannah I can’t decide. Chris-bean-a Aguilera, or Queen Latte-fah? I’ve been staring at the menu for longer than is considered socially acceptable, and I still can’t decide. I’m going to order what I always do. I know it. The Barbie-pink haired barista giving me sympathetic eyes knows it. And my best friend, Athena, sitting at our usual table shooting daggers into my back while she waits for me to order her first caffeine hit of the day, knows it, too. Hell, even the hero and heroine in the romance novel I’m hugging against my chest know it. Huh. Perhaps not. Bitches Brew—the best coffee shop in town—has added new things to their menu. The Cocoa Chanel looks drool-worthy. Buttery hot chocolate with hot pink whipped cream, mini marshmallows, and edible glitter. Ooooh. Come to mama. But what if it’s not as good as it looks on the menu board? Nothing is ever as good as it looks on the menu board. And it’s quite the beautiful-looking menu board. Everything in the coffee shop is pretty: striking, hot pink, and sparkly. First appearances come with a pink punch at Bitches Brew. There’s so much interesting stuff, like a pink guitar hanging from the ceiling and a pink bike mounted on the wall over a fireplace, that I almost get distracted by it all and forget I’m supposed to be ordering. Almost. I need to focus. Turning my attention back to the menu board, I shift my weight. I need to pick something to order. It shouldn’t be this hard. But I know my Ruth Bader-Brewsburg, their dark chocolate mocha, is delicious. I love the depth of the coffee flavor, the richness of the chocolate, and how Taryn—my favorite barista and owner of Bitches Brew—takes the time to draw a music staff and notes with cocoa powder on top of my drink. I do this every time. Every fucking time. I convince myself that I’m going to stray from my boring, same old, same old and try something new. It’s on the tip of my tongue, venturing out from my safe space into the unknown. But the comforting familiarity of my old favorite sinks its claws into me, just a little deeper, and I can’t stop myself from blurting out the same thing I always get. I know one thing, though. If I don’t hurry up and bring Athena her Ariana Grande with an extra shot of Espresso Patronum, they’re never going to find my body. “You ready to order?” Taryn flashes me her superstar grin. I’ve been coming to Bitches Brew for as long as I’ve been a student at the University of Cedar Rapids, Iowa, AKA: UCR. Three years. And for three years I’ve ordered the same thing, every single time. Maybe today, first day of my third and senior year, is The Day. I nod and suck in a breath. “I’ll have an Ariana Grande with an extra shot.” A quick glance over my shoulder tells me that Athena has hit DEFCON 2. She’s starting her junior year. We met right here at the coffee shop, on our first day of college three years ago when she tried to hit on me. I was flattered, but I’m straight. She took it in stride, we got to talking, and the rest is BFF history. She’s the Geena Davis to my Susan Sarandon, the Buffy to my Willow, the Christina Yang to my Meredith Grey. A grunt, and a string of Spanish profanities indicates she’s escalated to DEFCON 1. “Better make it two extra shots, please, Taryn.” Her perfectly curled pink hair bobs up and down as she nods. “And for you?” She arches a manicured brow like she’s expecting me to say something different, something new. I can’t blame her, I’ve spent more time than usual examining her new board. I meet her eyes, warmth blooming in my cheeks. How in the name of all that’s holy does she get her eyeliner flicks so even? The gaggle of geese hanging out around the small lake outside are honkin’ up a storm. Even they know what I’m gonna order. I heave out a sigh. Today isn’t the day. “Ruth, please.” Her smile softens as she nods again. “You got it. Anything else?” She’s right. DEFCON 1 requires sugar as well as caffeine. “Hen will take the lady lips, and I’ll have a dick waffle dipped in white chocolate. Please and thank you.” There’s no judgment in Taryn’s eyes. It’s one of the reasons Bitches Brew is so