Page 2 of Holly Jolly Rebel

“Which I do.”

“So it’s kind of disappointing to see my heartfelt wish for the union of two great hockey dynasties go up in smoke because you have the hots for one of Remy’s girls instead.” Giselle was Hatch’s senior by at least seven years, I reckoned.

Jason laughed. “Ah, I see.”

Hatch sighed and pushed back the dark, wavy hair he had also inherited from me. (My gran Aurora insisted those waves looked even better on him, which was ridiculous.)

“First, no one says they have the hots for anyone anymore. That’s completely ick. Second, Rosie and I are just friends. Always have been and that’s not going to change. We kissed once in a closet at Esme’s twelfth birthday party and it was like kissing my sister. Gross.”

“I’m sure your sister feels the same way.”

Hatch made a face. “The point being, Rosie is not in the frame. And even if Giselle was the focus of my attention—which she’s not—then that would be an even better union of hockey dynasties because a Kershaw-Dupre combination would be a hundred times more media-savvy than a Kershaw-Burnett-Moretti combination. I mean, come on.”

That made no sense, and I wasted no time telling him.

“Rosie has two legendary hockey player dads. Giselle has one. That’s basic hockey dynasty math.”

My son frowned and shared a glance with his uncle. “You want to tell him or should I?”

“He knows. He’s just being contrary.”

Hatch leaned on his stick. “So Giselle’s mom doesn’t enter the equation? Harper Chase, daughter of Clifford Chase, first female CEO to lead a Cup-winning team, sister of an Olympic gold medal-winning?—”

“Okay, so the genetics might be in your favor.” Hatch had my propensity to argue a point to death. “And clearly you’ve thought hard about it, so as not to disappoint me with some regular civilian chick.”

That made my son laugh. “Dad, I’ve just turned twenty and I have no intention of uniting the great Kershaw dynasty with anyone, daughter of hockey legends or otherwise. At least not for a long time. I’m just heading to the holiday party to catch up with people, that’s all.”

“Okay. I believe you, thousands wouldn’t. And on the subject of holidays, what did you get for your mom?”

“Not telling. You’ll have to steal someone else’s ideas this year.”

“What about you?” I asked my brother. “All your gifts in the bag?”Maybe give me a hint for what I should get Old Nick.

“I’ll be spending the next forty-eight hours at the mall.”

“I won’t bother getting you a comp for the game tomorrow, then.”

“Already got a seat in the box, T. Wouldn’t miss it.”

Hatch skated backwards and nudged a puck in my direction. “Any life left in you, old man?”

Jason tapped his stick on the ice. “Yeah, how about a little two on one?”

These assholes.

Rather than shove that puck down my kid’s throat—'twas the season for goodwill towards men even when they were acting like brats—I instead showed himandmy little brother that there was indeed life in the old dog yet.

Two

Elle

I poppedmy head around the door to the den where my youngest sons were currently duking it out on a video game. Looked like Hockey All Stars 2057, or whatever it was up to now.

“Any sign of your sister?”

Conor peered up, distracted just long enough for Landon to score.

“Fuck, yeah!”

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