Page 119 of On Thin Ice

“Good.” Jacob could hear the affection—maybe even more—in Finn’s voice, and he hung on to that, hoped he’d remember exactly the way he sounded now, so in the future when his own certainty wavered, he’d have Finn’s.

“I . . .” Jacob hesitated, but he wanted Finn to understand how much he cared without being stupid enough to say the words just yet. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah?”

“If you’d asked me to get out of my warm bed tonight, I’d have done it,” Jacob said.

“Just think about how we’re both going to be there, tomorrow,” Finn said dreamily.

Finn and his dad had never been much for exchanging gifts.

Morgan never needed anything—if he did, he got it for himself—and he’d made sure Finn never really lacked for anything anyway. Besides, Finn only needed his hockey gear and enough spending money to keep him in Sammy’s subs and fries atJimmy’s and occasionally a drink or two at Darcelle’s. Anything more felt like an embarrassment of riches.

But it was Christmas, they were spending it together, and so Finn had decided he should get his dadsomething. So he’d taken his last shutout puck, saving it after he’d realized it was his twenty-fifth since he’d started playing goalie and had it framed.

Jacob had wondered if he wouldn’t like to keep it for himself, but Finn had enough pucks, and this was something his dad would actually find meaningful.

Success—always a language that Morgan Reynolds understood.

After they’d demolished the brunch that his dad had catered in the high-rise apartment he’d bought after Finn had transferred to Portland, Finn handed him the gift, and Morgan looked surprised.

“You got me something?”

Finn rolled his eyes. “Dad, it’s Christmas.”

“I know, but I don’t really need—”

“Just open it,” Finn said.

“Fine, fine,” Morgan said. Then he shot him a knowing smile and dug something out of the back pocket of his jeans. “Good thing I got you something, too.”

“Well, open yours,” Finn said, after Morgan handed him an envelope. Of course he hadn’t wrapped it. And of course, after he looked inside noticed that it was cash.

He’d been surprised enough that Morgan had actually had a tree put up—he’d hired someone else to do it, of course—but it had been a surprisingly thoughtful gesture.

Morgan tore open the paper and for a second, just stared at the framed puck and its accompanying engraved plaque.

What if he’d read the situation wrong? What if his daddidn’twant a reminder that he was good—or that he actually wished Finn had recordedmoreshutouts since he’d switched positions?

But then his dad cleared his throat and looked over at Finn with a surprising amount of emotion in his eyes.

“You’d give this to me?” he asked, tapping at the glass covering the mounted puck.

“Yeah,” Finn said. He’d told himself it wasn’t a big deal, but was that really true, when it felt like he’d been holding his breath since he’d handed his dad the package?

“Finn . . .” Morgan met his gaze. “Thank you.”

He shrugged, trying to shrug off the emotion rising in him. “It’s not a big deal.”

Morgan sighed. “Yes,yes, it is. This should be something you keep for your own cabinet, to remember this year by, and you’re giving tome. And I haven’t been—”

“It’s okay, Dad,” Finn said awkwardly.

He both wanted the apology, and hedidn’twant it, too.

“No, it’snotokay,” Morgan huffed out. “I’ve been too hard on you. You’re doing great, in spite of me, not because of me.”

“I bet that must really chap your ass,” Finn said.

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