19. So This Is Christmas…
JENNIE
I keep waiting for Christmases without him to get easier, but I’m learning that’s not how grief works.
I don’t know that grief even has set rules, only that it pretty much always does the opposite of what you think it will. You think you know what to expect because you went through it last year, and the year before, and the one before that. You’ll be prepared this time. Right?
Grief’s not that simple. It’s a fucking mindfuck.
My heart feels jagged and fractured, a deep, dull pain that won’t wane, even as I snuggle beneath the covers, hugging the frame with the photo of me and Dad a little bit tighter, wishing for just one more Christmas with a heart that’s whole.
My phone buzzes, and I shove it under the pillow, not ready to wear a smile that feels extra empty today.
But it keeps buzzing, over and over until I yank it out, accept the call before I realize it’s a FaceTime, and growl out a rather aggressive, “ What ?”
Garrett’s bright eyes blink back at me. He grins. “Merry Christmas to you, too, sunshine. Jesus Christ, who shit in your Corn Pops this morning?”
I don’t know how the man manages to do it, but I crack a smile. A little one, like, super tiny. But the wider his gets, the bigger mine grows, until I’m rolling my eyes and laughing.
“Sorry. I didn’t look to see who it was before I answered.”
“You fell asleep on me last night, so I wanted to—”
“Are you on the phone with your girrrlfriend ?” a voice teases.
“ Get outta here, Gabby !” Garrett tosses a pillow, and even through the sound of a slamming door, I can hear Gabby’s shrill giggles. He sighs, dragging his fingers through his mussed hair. “She’s been calling you my girlfriend for the last three days.”
“Better set her straight then. Tell her I had no choice in having a brother as a hockey player; I’m not going to voluntarily date one. She’ll understand one day.”
He turns away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, Gabby can’t be tamed. She says and does whatever she wants, kinda like you.”
“Ah, so you’re surrounded by strong, powerful women.”
“Something like that,” he says on a long exhale. “Just toss the word wild in there.”
My eyes narrow. “You’re gonna get pinched for that when I see you next.”
“Nah, I’ll just tie your hands behind your back so your pinchy fingers can’t get anywhere near me. Plus—” he lifts one arm, flexing his bicep, and growls playfully, “—this body was built by the gods. I don’t have an ounce of body fat on me for pinching purposes.”
“You hockey players are all the same: cocky little shits.” I won’t touch on the fact that my lady parts are tingling at the thought of him tying my hands behind my back. But, like…maybe I’ll touch on it in the future.
“You can’t lump me in with the rest of them. I’m in a league all my own.”
I can’t say I really disagree. Garrett’s nothing like the players you see in the news. He’s like a soft, gooey cinnamon roll. A lot of women would jump at a shot with a man like him.
I tuck the thoughts away, because I’d prefer to remain oblivious to the eventual good-bye I’ll have to say to the only meaningful relationship I’ve ever had, the deepest, most genuine connection I’ve found with a person.
Good-byes suck, and no part of me is ready for the one with Garrett that looms somewhere in the future.
“What are you doing still in bed, anyway?” Garrett asks.
“You’re still in bed,” I point out.
“I’m back in bed. We already had coffee, ate breakfast, and opened presents.”
“But you’re not wearing a shirt.”
“Wanted to give you something to look at.”
I laugh, a full belly one that feels good. “Okay, hotshot.”
“You could take yours off, too, if you want.”
“We’re not having Christmas morning phone sex when your family is down the hall.”
He runs a palm down his chest and sighs. “Can’t blame a guy for trying. But seriously, can you do something for me? I need you to run up to my place for a minute.”
“But I’m in bed!” I peel back the blankets and aim the phone at my fleece pajamas with dogs dressed as Santa. “I’m wearing my jammies!”
His gaze rakes over me, an amused brow quirking. “Really leaving a lot to the imagination there, aren’t you?”
“Shut up, you donkey.” I slip out of bed and stretch, yawning. “Fine, I’ll go. But I’m going like this, and I’m not putting a bra on.”
“Braless Jennie is my favorite Jennie.”
I ride the elevator up to Garrett’s penthouse and key in the code as he recites it to me.
It’s bright and toasty in here, the morning sun drowning the space in golden warmth.
Multicolored lights make the Christmas tree twinkle, drawing me to it.
It’s been so long since I decorated for Christmas that I hadn’t even thought to put up a tree of my own.
“There’s a box under the tree,” I observe, spotting the gift wrapped in brown paper with shiny red reindeers stamped all over it, topped with an extravagant gold bow.
I turn our snowmen ornaments in my hand, smiling at our initials on the bottom, right next to our ages.
“You didn’t forget one of your sister’s presents, did you? ”
“No. I just wanted to be with you while you opened your gift.”
My gaze falls to my phone, finding Garrett’s soft smile. “What?”
“The gift is for you, Jennie.”
I sink to my knees in front of the gift. Sure enough, Sunshine is scrawled across the tag. A lump forms in my throat, tight and heavy, one I can’t swallow down. “You got me a gift? But I…I didn’t get anything for you. I didn’t know…I—”
“Stop. I’m sure this crosses some sort of imaginary friends-with-benefits line, but I wanted to get you something. So go on and open it.”
I cross my legs and prop the phone up so Garrett can see me. There’s a slight tremor in my hands, both excited and nervous to see inside. I run my finger along the edge of the ribbon before tugging, watch the bow fall apart, then promptly rip into the wrapping paper.
When I open the box, a giggle bubbles in my throat, and I pull the first item out.
“So we can have dance battles,” Garrett says, watching me turn the Just Dance video game in my hand.
“I’ll destroy you. Is your ego built to handle that?”
“Maybe I’ve been practicing.”
“Practice all you want, Garrett, I’m still gonna bury you alive.” I set the game aside and pull out a sweatshirt, laughing again as I read the silver words that loop across it. “ Sparkling Personality ? Really?”
He’s doing a shit job at hiding how funny he thinks this is, snicker-snorting as he vibrates. “Get it? ’Cause you’re so pleasant and sweet.”
“Uh-huh.” The next item is clothing too. A pale blue and purple romper made of ultra-soft fleece, zipping in the front. When I spy the word on the butt, Garrett’s laughter quickly spirals into hysterical territory.
“They say angel on the ass,” he wheezes. “ Angel .”
“Unbelievable. You’re really on a roll right now, aren’t you?”
“I’m sorry.” He swipes at a tear. “I couldn’t help myself.
Plus, they’re super cheeky, so your ass is gonna hang out of them.
” He wipes both eyes again and pushes a heavy breath out, trying to get control of himself.
Both actions annoy me, yet for the life of me I cannot stop smiling. “There’s one more.”
I pull the skinny silver wand out of the box, the claws attached to the head that make it look like some sort of extra-long fork.
“It’s a back scratcher,” Garrett explains, “but I thought, if you use it gently, you could tickle your own back when I’m away.”
I extend the wand and slip it down the back of my pajama top. My eyes flutter closed as I moan. “Oooh, Garrett. You might’ve just inadvertently replaced yourself, big guy.”
“Fuck that. Nothing replaces these fingers.”
“They are my favorite fingers.” I look down at the pile of gifts. “Thank you so much, Garrett. I love everything.”
“It’s no Princess Bubblegum, but I hope it brought you a little happiness anyway.”
“It did. Thank you for thinking of me.”
My gaze drops to my slippers as my own words register. Because at the busiest time of the year, between juggling his busy hockey schedule, the holidays, and traveling home to see his family, this man thought of me , and I honestly can’t think of the last time somebody did.
“I can’t remember the last time I got any gifts from someone who wasn’t family.”
Silence hangs between us like an anchor, keeping my eyes downcast. I’m worried I’ve taken us into unchartered territory, somewhere Garrett had no intention of going with a simple gift.
“But I think you are my family,” he finally replies softly, urging my gaze to his, patient and kind, full of compassion. “The guys, Cara, Ollie…they’re the family I found here, the one I chose, and I think you’re part of it, too, now. I want you to be, at least. You feel like you belong in it.”
I turn away in time to catch a sneaky tear that finds its way out of my eye and tries to roll down my cheek. Stupid holidays and big, cocky hockey players who are secret teddy bears.
“I’m not crying,” I tell him, sniffling. “I have this, like, leaky tear duct thing. It’s a condition.”
His laugh is my favorite sound, his smile my favorite sight.
“Merry Christmas, Jennie.”
“Merry Christmas, Garrett.”
* * *
“What in the sweet fuck are you wearing?”
“What? This?” Carter looks down at his shirt, tugging so the single word is visible, as if it weren’t already large and in charge. DILF . “Ollie got it for me.”
“It was meant to be a joke,” Olivia murmurs, “but it’s his favorite gift. He won’t take it off.”
“Wanna see the best part?” Carter pulls Olivia into his side, beaming proudly. “Show ’em yours, pumpkin.”
Her face flushes. “No, I don’t think I will.”
“C’mon.” He shakes her arm. “Be loud, be proud, Ollie girl.”
She does it, but she sure drags her ass about it, slowly pulling her sweater over her head, and I don’t know whether to laugh at her or cry for her.
Because the shirt she wears underneath sports one simple sentence: I HEART DILFs .