Chapter 53 Chapter 53

Chapter 53 Chapter 53
COLEEN

The wind bit through my coat as soon as I stepped outside, the kind of cold that nipped at your ears and made you question every life decision that involved leaving a warm apartment. Hayden had texted that he was waiting by his car, and sure enough, there he was, leaning against it like he was posing for a magazine cover instead of freezing in the parking lot.

“You’re going to turn into an icicle,” I called as I walked over.

He grinned, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “What, and ruin my reputation as a tough hockey guy? Can’t let that happen.”

“You could at least pretend to be human and wear a hat,” I teased.

“Can’t mess up the hair,” he shot back. “Priorities, Coleen.”

I rolled my eyes as I reached him, but I couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at my lips. “You ready?”

“Always,” he said, opening the car door for me with a little mock bow. “Your chariot awaits.”

I slid in, muttering, “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he replied, rounding to the driver’s side, “You still got in the car.”

We drove to a small bookstore café he’d mentioned before, the kind of place tucked away on a quiet street, with glowing windows and shelves stacked so high you needed ladders to reach the top. The smell hit me as soon as we stepped inside, old paper, coffee, and something warm, like cinnamon.

Hayden shook off the cold and looked around. “Alright, Coleen. You’re in your element now. Show me the magic of… uh…” He squinted at a display. “Whatever this is. Fantasy? Romance? Giant doorstops with dragons on the cover?”

I gasped dramatically. “Did you just insult The Name of the Wind?”

“I have no idea what that is,” he admitted with zero shame. “But I’m willing to be educated.”

I grabbed his sleeve and tugged him toward the shelves. “You seriously don’t read fiction? At all?”

“Not unless you count playbooks,” he said, trailing after me. “I’m more of a highlights-and-scouting-reports kind of guy.”

“That’s tragic.” I ran my fingers along the spines of well-worn books, pulling one free. “Okay, this, this was my favorite when I was ten. Anne of Green Gables.”

Hayden took the book from me, flipping it over. “Sounds… green.”

“Don’t mock Anne,” I warned, narrowing my eyes. “She’s a national treasure. She’s imaginative and stubborn and a total mess sometimes, but she always stays true to herself.”

His mouth quirked. “Kinda reminds me of someone.”

Heat crept up my neck. “Flattery will not make me forgive your literary ignorance.”

“Worth a try,” he said lightly, setting the book back. “So what else did Little Coleen read when she wasn’t terrorizing classmates?”

I snorted. “A lot of fantasy. Narnia, Percy Jackson… basically anything with magic or adventures.” I hesitated, softer now. “I liked stories where people found a place they belonged.”

Hayden glanced down at me, something in his expression shifting. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I said, looking away. “I guess I liked the idea that no matter how lost you feel, there’s always somewhere… or someone… who fits.”

For a moment, neither of us said anything. The bustle of the café and the soft hum of quiet conversations filled the silence. Then Hayden nudged me gently with his elbow.

“Guess I should start reading, huh? So I can keep up with your references.”

I smiled faintly. “Only if you promise not to dog-ear the pages. Or, God forbid, spill hot chocolate on them.”

“No promises,” he said solemnly, then added, “Speaking of hot chocolate though... wanna grab some?”

We found a corner table, mugs steaming between us. I wrapped my hands around mine, savoring the warmth. Hayden leaned back in his chair, studying me with that easy grin that made my stomach do things it shouldn’t.

“So,” he said, “Favorite book of all time. Go.”

I groaned. “That’s impossible.”

“Top three, then.”

I rattled off a few, rambling about why they mattered to me. He listened, actually listened, even though I knew he probably couldn’t tell Tolkien from Tolstoy. Every now and then, he’d ask a question, not just to fill space but because he wanted to know.

And somewhere between explaining why The Hobbit was basically a comfort blanket and arguing that fairytales weren’t just for kids, the conversation turned more personal.

“I used to… keep people at arm’s length,” I admitted, tracing the rim of my mug. “Still do, I guess. It’s easier that way. Less messy.”

Hayden’s gaze softened. “Messy doesn’t always mean bad.”

“It means vulnerable,” I countered. “And I’m not… great at that.”

He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “You don’t have to be great at it. You just… let people in, little by little. On your terms.”

Something in his voice made my chest ache in a way I wasn’t prepared for. I tried to laugh it off. “Careful, Michaels. You’re starting to sound like one of those broody romance novel heroes.”

His lips twitched. “Do those guys play hockey?”

“Not usually,” I said, grateful for the lighter turn. “They’re usually running through fields in the rain, confessing their undying love.”

“I could do that,” he deadpanned. “But I’d probably slip on the ice and take you down with me.”

I laughed, the tension easing. “Please don’t.”

After we drained the last of our cocoa, we wandered outside. The cold air bit sharper now, our breath puffing like smoke as we walked down the quiet block. Christmas lights still lingered in some shop windows, soft and glowing.

Hayden shoved his hands into his pockets. “So… good date?”

“Not bad,” I said casually, even though my cheeks were frozen and my heart wouldn’t slow down.

“Not bad?” He gave me a mock glare. “You wound me, Coleen. I brought you books and chocolate.”

I smirked. “Maybe I’m just hard to impress.”

His eyes gleamed, a challenge sparking there. “Guess I’ll have to try harder next time.”

We stopped in front of my building, the moment stretching in the space between us. I could feel the warmth of him even through the chill, and for a second, all I could hear was the pounding of my own heartbeat.

“Well,” I said finally, because words felt safer than silence, “Thanks for tonight. I had fun.”

“Me too,” he said quietly. And then, just like he did the last time, he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. Just a little longer this time. Just enough to make my pulse trip over itself.

When he pulled back, I was pretty sure my face was on fire despite the cold.

“Goodnight, Coleen,” he murmured.

“Goodnight, Hayden,” I managed, hoping my voice didn’t give me away.

I slipped inside before I could embarrass myself further, heart still racing like he’d just scored the game-winning goal.