Page 2 of Dragged Home for Christmas

And speaking of Steve…

“What have you done with my brother-in-law? I haven’t seen him since lunch.” Mike grinned. “Is he having a nap too?”

“He’s in the front yard, working on a surprise for Daisy when she wakes up.”

He smiled. “You do know she’s not going to remember a snowman, don’t you? Steve is freezing his nuts off out there for nothing.”

Dad handed him a glass. “There’ll always be the photo of it. When did you get so cynical?”

“And you wonder why you’re still single,” Helena said with a smirk.

“Helena,” Mom said in a warning tone.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Mom. He’s twenty-eight. He hasn’t had a single boyfriend who’s lasted more than six months. He’s as good at building relationships as heis at—”

Mike scowled. “Don’t say it.” He’d gotten through two days of this visit without anyone mentioning the fact that his latest business venture had been an epic fail.

The latest in a long line.

Helena had the grace to blush.

“You’d ask if you needed help, wouldn’t you?” Mom’s voice was laced with concern.

He sighed. “I’m fine, okay?”

He wasn’t, not by a long shot, but the only person to know the real extent of his financial situation was Ashley, his sounding board, best friend, and confidante.

“I’ll go check on Daisy.” Helena left the room.

Mike regarded the tree, now looking a little bare in places. He smiled. “Uncle Nick would’ve laughed his ass off at this.”

And how long is it since I’ve thought about him?

Then he realized how quiet the room had become.

He glanced at his parents. “For God’s sake. I have no idea why you stopped talking about him or why he stopped coming here, butIsure didn’t have a problem with him. Am I not allowed to mention his name now?”

When Mike was fifteen, Uncle Nick had left Boston. He’d return for regular visits during the holidays, but the visits had stopped about seven years ago.

That was also the time when Mike’s parents stopped mentioning him.

Mike had a ton of uncles and aunts—Mom had been the middle kid of six, and Dad had three siblings—but Uncle Nick had always been his favorite. When his visits ceased, Mike had asked his parents for a phone number so he could get in touch, but they’d refused. Up until seven years ago, Mike received cards every birthday, and at Christmas, all ofthem sent to his parents’ house, and in every one there was the same message.

Love you, kid. And no, I’m not telling you where I am. Your dad would cut my balls off. You don’t need to send me a card. He’d pitch a fit if you did.

Once the cards stopped coming, with each year, Uncle Nick had slipped further from Mike’s mind. He’d had troubles of his own.

“Mike…” Dad’s voice was gentle, and that was enough to raise goose bumps on the back of Mike’s neck. “About your uncle…”

He stared at his father. “What’s happened?”

Dad rolled out a heavy sigh. “He died.”

Shock thrummed through him. “When was this? How did he die?”

“It was a heart attack, about three months ago.”

“And no one thought totellme? Why the hell not?”

---