24. Cohen
Cohen
It was the day before Christmas Eve, and I was frantically cleaning my place.
My sister was supposed to arrive tomorrow, and let’s just say I hadn’t exactly been preparing for company.
Ellie’s toys were scattered across the living room.
Dishes were stacked precariously in the sink, and I was fairly certain I hadn’t washed a towel in a week.
My phone vibrated on the counter just as I shoved the last of the dishes into the dishwasher.
Callie’s name flashed across the screen.
“Hey, what’s up, Cal?”
“My flight got cancelled,” she groaned.
I froze mid-reach for the detergent. “What? Why?”
“Apparently Texas is about to get slammed with some massive ice storm tonight into tomorrow.”
I straightened slowly.
I’d heard rumblings about bad weather rolling in, but this was Texas.
It was ninety degrees one day and thirty the next.
Forecasts meant absolutely nothing half the time.
“They said that a few weeks ago,” I muttered, closing the dishwasher and grabbing a towel to wipe down the counter.
“Everything missed us and hit Dallas as it usually does.”
Callie laughed softly. “Well, not this time. They’re saying it’s supposed to be bad.”
I scrubbed harder at a nonexistent stain.
“So… yeah. I’ll rebook as soon as I can, but there’s a very real chance I won’t make it for Christmas.”
Silence stretched between us.
Ava was taking Ellie to Primrose Hill tomorrow, or at least that had been the plan.
“I’m sorry, Coh,” Callie added gently. “Maybe you can tag along with Ava and Ellie to Primrose Hill if the weather ends up not being as bad as they say?”
“Maybe,” I echoed, noncommittal.
My mind drifted to Thanksgiving. To the look in Ava’s eyes when I said I was there for Ellie.
To the hope that flickered—and died—in a matter of seconds.
I’d shown up ready to tell her everything.
That I couldn’t get her out of my head. That I didn’t take Kate home.
That I’d been jealous and insecure and terrified.
But had I?
No.
Instead, I’d hidden behind our daughter, watching Ava shut down in real time. I tried to make up for it by following her around all night like a goddamn puppy. Small touches, compliments, standing too close. As if proximity could fix what I'd fucked up.
She’d pulled back. Because of course she did. And I had no one to blame but myself. Things hadn’t exactly improved since then. We were cordial. Always polite. The perfect co-parents.
I missed her.
I missed the easy way we used to talk. The way she’d tease me. The way she’d look at me like I wasn’t just Ellie’s dad, like I was more than that to her.
I tossed the towel onto the counter and dragged a hand down my face.
“I’ll figure something out,” I told Callie. “Let me know if anything changes.”
“Hey,” she said softly before hanging up, “don’t spend Christmas alone.”
Too late.
After we disconnected, I stood there for a long moment, staring at my half-clean apartment.
Christmas without Callie.
Christmas without Ellie.
Christmas without… her.
I glanced at my phone.
Ava had planned to leave early in the morning. If this storm were real, the roads might already be bad. Before I could overthink it, I pulled up her name.
Me: Are you still heading to Primrose Hill tomorrow?
I stared at the message for a second.
Then hit send.
I didn’t hear from Ava until the following morning.
My phone buzzed just as I was standing at the window, staring out at a city that looked like it had been dipped in glass.
Trouble: Sorry it took so long to respond. I had a ton of things to wrap up for work before Christmas! The plan was to leave this morning, but as you probably have noticed, the roads are iced over. We're stuck. Did Callie make it?
She wasn’t exaggerating. Austin was coated in a thick sheen of ice. Trees bowed under the weight of it. The streets were empty—no cars, no movement. Just stillness.
The kind that felt isolating.
Me: Nope. Her flight was cancelled yesterday.
The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.
Trouble: I’m sorry. This sucks. I’ve never had a Christmas without my family.
I stared at that message longer than I meant to.
I hadn’t had a Christmas with a full family since I was nineteen.
Since a coach had pulled me out of practice and changed my life in a single sentence.
Some years, I saw Callie. Some years I didn’t.
And the years we did manage to coordinate, it was rarely on the actual day.
No one knew this—not my teammates, not even Walker—but the years we couldn’t get together, I spent Christmas alone.
Did I have offers?
Sure.
I always had teammates inviting me to join them and their families. But the thought of warm kitchens, loud living rooms, and traditions that weren’t mine made the loss louder. It made my mom’s absence undeniable.
So, I stayed home.
But I had a daughter now. Which meant this year didn’t have to look like the others. Without thinking too hard about the implications, about the proximity and about how badly I’d fumbled that moment in her foyer on Thanksgiving…
I typed.
Me: Yeah, it does. I stocked my fridge for Callie’s visit. You and Ellie can spend Xmas at my place if you want?
My thumb hovered over the send button for half a second before I mustered up the courage to send it.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
I could practically see her pacing, her brain working on overdrive.
And then finally she responded—
Trouble: Honestly that would be great. I have zero food at my place, thinking we’d be at my parents’ for a few days.
Relief hit hard; I was bracing for a no. For the inevitable polite excuse, for the obvious distance.
This was happening. I was going to spend Christmas with my daughter.
And her.
Me: Great. Come over whenever tomorrow morning. I already have gifts for her under the tree.
There was a beat.
Then—
Trouble: You have a tree??? CoJo, I'm impressed.
I huffed out a quiet laugh. Seeing the nickname appear for the first time in what felt like years was like stepping into the sun’s warmth after a long, cold winter.
Me: Callie would have killed me if I didn’t.
Trouble: That tracks.
I stared at her name on the screen longer than necessary. Christmas. Just the three of us. Snowed in. Or iced in… whatever, either way it felt… dangerous.
But maybe that was exactly what we needed.
Today was a good day.
Seeing Christmas through your child’s eyes?
Ten out of ten. Highly recommend. Ellie had been mesmerized by the twinkling lights on the tree, the shiny ornaments, and the soft crackle of the fire.
Everything was magic to her. The morning had started slightly awkward—polite smiles, careful movements—but like always, we found our rhythm.
The one we always seemed to slip into without effort. The one that felt like muscle memory.
Ellie was down for the night now, and Ava and I were sitting by the fireplace finishing the dinner I’d made. Steaks, baked potatoes, and asparagus—originally meant for Callie and me.
Ava set her fork down and leaned back against the couch. “Damn, CoJo. I didn’t realize you could cook. That was so good.”
I smirked. "I've told you before. I'm a man of many talents." I threw her a wink as I picked up our plates and headed into the kitchen. "Nah, I'm totally kidding. I can make like five things, and this happens to be one of them."
She laughed into her wineglass.
After loading the dishes into the sink, I settled back beside her. “I’m sorry you missed Christmas with your family.”
She shrugged. “It’s okay. Today was fun. I’m glad Ellie got both of her parents for her first Christmas.” She paused, staring into her glass. “I actually got you something… from Ellie, of course.” She rushed the last part and reached for a small box from her bag.
She handed it to me.
I looked down at the perfectly wrapped package—red and green paper, gold bow tied neatly on top. I couldn’t remember the last time someone bought me a Christmas gift that wasn’t my sister.
I ran my thumb across the bow.
“Well? Are you going to open it?” she asked impatiently, navy eyes bright.
I untied it carefully, then tore through the paper to reveal a simple brown box. Inside was a braided leather bracelet with a small wooden bead engraved with Ellie’s initials.
My chest tightened.
I slipped it onto my wrist immediately. “Wow, Ava. Thank you. I love it.”
She clapped her hands together excitedly. “The leather is from a baseball glove. The wood’s from a bat. Walker’s, actually. He had old gear lying around, and I found a local artisan who turned it into a bracelet.”
I blinked.
The thought. The intention. The time… all for me.
“That’s… incredible.” I kept adjusting the bracelet, staring at it, because I wasn’t entirely sure what would happen if I looked at her.
She sat closer. “I’m so glad you like it.” Her hand squeezed my thigh. The contact shot straight through me.
I stood too fast. “Walker’s going to be so jealous of this.” I cleared my throat. “More wine?”
She nodded, but I was already halfway to the kitchen.
I poured myself a heavy glass and took a long swallow. I needed a minute. I didn’t want her to see how much this meant. How much she meant. Today had been light and easy… the way it used to be. I didn’t want to tip it into something heavier. It wasn’t the place or time for that.
Before I sat back down, I grabbed a box from a drawer underneath the TV. I tried to keep it casual. “I didn’t realize we were exchanging gifts, so this doesn't really count… but I did get you something small. I uh… didn’t wrap it though." I rubbed the back of my neck nervously.
“We weren’t,” she said softly, tracing the rim of her glass. “I just had the idea. I didn’t expect anything, but gimme!” she teased, grabbing for it.