Page 61 of Hockey Bois
“Yeah, it ain’t going to be me. I got a nephew who collects these things.”
Gail sighed loudly. “Fiiine. Use your presumably cute nephew as an excuse.”
Brady was next, his gaze drifting over to Gail and the bobblehead often enough that Nick wondered if he’d rather bypass the whole show of taking a new gift from the table. As usual, though, he followed the rules without complaint and picked one of the larger gifts decorated with a huge bow.
He opened it and held up a red sweater that said CAPITALS in white block letters.
“What a beaut,” Young Greg said. “That is a fine sweater. One of y’all is way more talented than you’ve been letting on.”
The team went on and on about how impressed they were with it, that it looked warm, that it looked comfy, that it might betheitem to steal.
And then there was Brady, the current holder of the longed-for treasure, looking like a kicked puppy.
Brady stared down at the handknit sweater, face carefully neutral. He bit his lip, and Nick wondered what was going through his head. Obviously he wouldn’t want to be rude and admit his own feelings about the sweater—someone had worked hard to knit it, after all—but he as clearly didnotwant it.
“Uhh… this is… uh… certainly a sweater…”
Nick was struggling to come up with something to say, a way to help—
“I wanna steal the bobblehead,” Brady said over the chatter.
The room fell silent in surprise.
After a pause, Gail nearly fell over in her rush to put down her mug and pass over the bobblehead. “Oh my fucking God, if you’re dicking around—”
“I’m not.” He made a “gimme” motion with one hand and held out the sweater with the other.
They swapped gifts, Brady with a soft smile as he inspected his prize. It honestly was so reminiscent of a kid on Christmas day that it melted Nick’s heart. Brady was happy, andNickhad done that.
“My turn! I pick this one!” Young Greg grabbed a large box and nearly dropped it when he tried to pick it up. It must have been much heavier than it looked, and Young Greg cursed under his breath as he tried again.
“Uhh,” Lexi said. “I don’t think this is a good gift for him…”
It was too late, though; he’d already torn into the newspaper wrapping. The newspaper pulled aside, it was very obvious that the box contained a six-pack of beer and a set of shot glasses.
“Oh,” Young Greg said, looking as disappointed with his selection as Brady had.
“Yeeeah,” said Lexi. “That’s not for you.”
“Oh dear,” said Benns, and then hurriedly snatched the box away. “Donno, Gail, Brady, would any of you be willing to trade for the beer?”
Brady possessively held his box more tightly, and Gail didn’t look eager to let the sweater go.
“Fine,” Donno grumbled and handed the trading cards over. “I already got my nephew a gift anyway.”
“I always wonder why we’re the only beer-league team that doesn’t drink on the bench,” Mags said, “and then I remember we’ve got a child on the team.”
“I’m turning twenty in March!” Young Greg protested.
“Twenty ain’t twenty-one.”
The next few gifts inspired some “ooh”s and “aah”s, as well as some shuffling around of the opened gifts. There were hockey-themed cookie cutters, a book about the Hockey Hall of Fame, different colors of hockey tape, a hockey bag deodorizing spray (the arguments for who should get that one were on other people’s behalf rather than anyone wanting it for themselves, and it was universally agreed that Donno needed it the most), and a holiday edition of Cards Against Humanity.
When it got to Nick’s turn, there were only two gifts left on the table: Brady’s gold basket and a smaller gift in a pale-green bag. There was plenty out there he wouldn’t mind having, but really, he didn’t evenknowwhat Brady had gotten, and he was not the type of man capable of ignoring that mystery.
“Pass me the gold one?”
Brady’s head shot up, and he narrowed his eyes at Nick, watching him unwrap the gift he’d brought.
