Page 105 of Dirty Puck

“We want to ask you something,” Bree started.

“That sounds serious.”

“It is,” I said. “I want Bree and Benny to move back in with me. I want you to come too. Not as a guest, but as family. If you’d rather have your own space, I can build you a cottage on the property—separate, but close.”

Claudia blinked. Her grip on Bree’s hand tightened.

“You don’t have to decide right away,” Bree added. “But we wanted you to know the door’s wide open.”

Claudia’s eyes shimmered. “I never thought… Well, it doesn’t matter. I’ll go wherever my family is.”

Bree teared up and hugged her. I let them have their moment, my throat thick.

“Good.” I stood. “Then I’m taking you out for a celebratory breakfast because last night was thelast nightyou’ll sleep here.”

True to my word, I got movers there the next week, but we’d taken apart Benny’s whole room again, just like before, to reassemble in his permanent room at the beach house. We packed up their clothing, Benny’s sippy cups, just whatever to make them feel settled until every last piece of their lives at the apartments were moved in with us.

Different than Thanksgiving, when we reached Christmas, I wanted a quiet, intimate day with just the four of us. It was the first Christmas without Mom.

I’d braced myself for it—for the quiet ache, the hollow space at the table, the realization that no one would burn the ham this year because they’d gotten distracted again. As great of a cook as she was, Mom had always made the same mistake. Sworn she’d do better next time. Then she’d do it again the year after, laughing as she hacked the crust off with a knife and told me it added character. Now that I thought about it, it might’ve been on purpose, to give us aspecial memory when it was just she and I against the world.

That woman. I laughed thinking about it. Her absence still cut deep, but the memories helped. The first time it happened she’d been caramelizing the glaze under the broiler when I’d worked up the courage to talk to her about the travel team. It came with a massive price tag, but had been my best chance to get scouted for college one day. Even at thirteen years old, I’d known that hockey was the only thing I ever wanted to do.

Ma never told me no. Maybe ‘not right now’ or “we’ll save for it” but never no. Fuck. I ran my hand over my face. She’d taken the list from my hand, scanning everything.“Baker,”she’d said.“I’ve always told you that you could do anything in this world. So if this is what you want, we’ll make it work.”

I hugged her so hard that day. She’d already given me so much. And as she’d kissed the top of my head, I sniffed the air.“Is something burning?”

She’d pushed me away, turning to the oven to pull out the ham. I remember falling into each other laughing our asses off.

And God, I missed her laugh.

But the house wasn’t quiet this year. Not at all.

Benny was up at five-thirty in the damn morning, rubbing my arm like he was petting a dog. He had on those flannel penguin pajamas Bree bought him and was smiling all crazy-eyed like he’d mainlined maple syrup.

When I sat up, Bree opened her eyes with a true look of contentment, shoving the hair out of her face. “My boys,” she said. “Merry Christmas.” Then she turned to Benny. “Ready to go downstairs and open presents?”

Excitement radiated through his pores. This kid understood more than people gave him credit for. And what he understood today was that when he got up, he’d get presents. Bree, Claudia, and even I played into it for probably the lastweek. Reminding him about the magic of Christmas morning. Crossing off the days on the calendar. Reading him “‘Twas The Night Before Christmas” last night and giving that one final reminder. Oh, yeah, he knew.

I carried him down the steps so that Bree could go knock on Claudia’s door to let her know we were up. When she and Claudia joined us, Bree bent down to Benny’s level where I’d set him close to the ring of presents around the tree.

“Santa came!” she shouted. “Look at all the presents!” To my surprise, she asked, “Reece, would you like to play Santa this year?”

It was my honor, but I didn’t say it. I simply got to work passing out gifts. Bree walked up to me with a wrapped package. “Merry Christmas, Baker,” she said, then she kissed my cheek.

I took the gift, tearing open the wrapping. A framed photo of her in a Copperheads jersey. The nameREECEon the back. Fuck, I loved it. I loved seeing her wear my name.

“That was the night I realized I loved you,” she said and words weren’t enough. I held her in my arms, kissing every feeling I had for her onto her beautiful, pink lips.

We dragged ourselves back to the sofa, wrapped up in blankets, and watched Benny tear through his gifts. Once he had passed out in a sea of wrapping paper, his arm around a giant bag of Duplo blocks, and Claudia walked to the kitchen to start the coffee, Bree handed me one more gift.

“I didn’t know how you’d feel about this, so I wanted to give it in private,” she said, handing me the small card and my laptop.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Open it.”

Nothing could’ve prepared me for seeing that handwriting one more time. The card was from my mom. Bree placed a thumb drive in my hand, pressed a kiss to my cheek, and left me to join Claudia, but it was to give me privacy. Iopened the message. It was a video, timestamped a few days before she’d passed. My heart started pounding.

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