Chapter Thirty Taryn
“You’re headed home tomorrow?” Danny asked as he sat across from me at my dinette.
I watched in fascination as he bit into his hamburger, eating about a quarter of it in one bite. “Yeah. If you guys played at home this weekend, I’d stay here, but since you’re heading to North Dakota tomorrow, I didn’t see the point in hanging around an extra day.” I ran a couple of french fries through the puddle of ketchup on my plate and popped them in my mouth.
“This is our last night together before New Year’s.” The sad expression on his face tugged at my heart. “I’m missing you already.”
“You’re going to have a good time with your mom and little brother.” I ate another fry. “Maybe someday I’ll get to meet them.”
“I was about Devyn’s age when my parents split up.” His tone was far away. “Devyn’s dad is nothing like the captain. He’s super-good to Mom, and my half-brother is pretty well adjusted.”
“Are you implying you aren’t? Because I’m going to fight you on that one.”
A laugh huffed out of him. “I just mean I feel like a stranger when I visit them. But I’m glad I reached out and asked to reconnect with Mom when the captain no longer had a say in it.” He finished his burger and sneaked his hand across the table to snag some of my fries.
“Hey! You have your own.”
“Correction. I had my own. Now I’m having some of yours.” Mischief danced in his silvery eyes.
With a long-suffering sigh, I pushed my plate toward him. “It’s fine. I wasn’t going to finish these anyway.”
“I know.” The smug expression on his face had me rethinking my decision to share.
After we’d cleaned up our meal, we naturally gravitated to my couch. Danny couldn’t stay long since he had to be on the bus for the game at six in the morning, but it was our only night together before the calendar flipped to a new year. Last year at this time, I thought I’d finally moved on from him, found someone else. But I was wrong.
Yet he still didn’t know something important about me—something that could change everything and not for the better.
“Hold that thought,” he said as I was snuggling in close to his side. He jumped up and snagged his backpack from the floor beside the front door. A second later, he sat back beside me, holding a slim wrapped box. “Merry Christmas.”
“Oh!” Now I jumped up from the couch. “One second.” I hurried to my bedroom and came back with my present for him.
Stealing looks at him from beneath my lashes, I carefully slid my fingernail under the tape at the end of the box and peeled up the paper. Then I did the same with the tape along the middle of the box.
“Killing me, T,” he said as he watched me take my time unwrapping his gift.
Opening the box, I discovered a gorgeous aquamarine tennis bracelet. “Omigosh! Thank you!” I gushed as I set the box on the coffee table and wrapped my arms around his neck, letting my kiss tell him what my words didn’t.
Laughing—and maybe a bit dazed—he said, “You’re welcome.”
“Will you put it on me?”
His fingers lingered over my wrist after he did the honors, and my breath stuttered in my throat. In the past we’d exchanged silly presents at Christmas. Reflecting the shift in our relationship, this was our first time being serious. My heartbeat kicked up as I realized that at some point I must have mentioned aquamarine was my favorite and he’d remembered.
God, I was so in love with him.
I caught myself right before I blurted out my feelings. “Your turn.”
Unlike me, Danny had zero respect for wrapping paper. He tore into his present then sat back against the cushions and stared at it for so long I thought I might have screwed up. Clearing my throat, I said, “I made it for you. Wildcats colors. I was going to do Broncos colors, but you’re a star on the Wildcats, so—”
“No one has ever done something like this for me before.” His words were barely audible as he ran his hands over the stitches. Then he draped it over the back of the couch and kissed me like I was made of spun gold. “I am the luckiest fucker in the world,” he said as we worked to catch our breath. “This is the best present anyone has ever given me.”
“Truly?”
“Oh, fuck yes.” He kissed me again for emphasis.
I’d wanted to give him something special for Christmas—something only I could give him. Once I’d hit on the perfect gift, I’d spent a bunch of late nights crocheting a Weekender afghan for him. Other people might have been able to create one in a weekend, but I’d worked on his whenever I had some time—usually long after I should have been in bed. Though I’d lost some sleep, with every stitch I’d thought about him and smiled.
“I wish I could spend the night with you,” he said. “Especially after you gave me this.” He smoothed his hand over the blue-and-gold yarn and looked at me with an intensity that sank into my bones. In that moment I would have given him everything.
His phone vibrated a text. He ignored it. Then another. And another.
“You’d probably better see what that’s about,” I said. Though I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice, it insisted on coming out anyway.
Running his hands through his hair, he echoed my disappointment with resignation. “It’s my roommates reminding me I need to spend tonight in my own bed so I don’t miss the bus in the morning.” He smoothed the pad of his finger over my cheek. “It’s just...I’m not going to see you for the next ten days.”
Covering his hand and holding it to my face, I said, “I know.” Then I turned to drop a kiss into his palm. “But we can FaceTime and text.” I kissed him again.
“Not the same, T,” he said, his voice stern.
“Better than nothing.”
His phone buzzed again, and he sighed. Pulling it from his pocket, he fired off a quick text then gathered me in his arms. “Next year we’re spending Christmas together.”
A long, lingering kiss intensified his pronouncement, and my heart fluttered with hope. Then he stood and shrugged on his jacket and stepped into his boots. I handed him his present, and he leaned down for another kiss.
“Merry Christmas, T.”
“Merry Christmas, Danny. Good luck on Saturday. We’ll be cheering so loud, the neighbors will probably call the police.” I smiled.
“I’ll hear you.” He smiled back and walked out into the wintry December darkness.