I’m just flipping the last batch of pancakes when I hear the door from the garage open and the house alarm beep. Carson, I realize, punches in the code, then heads to the kitchen.
“Merry Christmas, G. What are you making?” Carson asks.
“Merry Christmas, Carse. I’m making pancakes, scrambled eggs, and ground sausage. Kenna said Cadence loves all three of those, so I thought it was a good choice for the first Christmas I get to spend with her.”
He nods at me but continues his stare into my eyes a few beats longer than I’m comfortable with.
“You’re doing a good job with her—with them. You know, I feel partly responsible for how things went down. I was hurting too, seeing you like that, hearing what you said to Mack. I didn’t handle it well. Obviously, punching you wasn’t one of my finest moments.”
He rubs the back of his neck and continues, “I’ve always taken on the role of a caretaker in our group. I guess I liked the idea of Mack, and eventually Cadence, needing me. I should’ve backed off and suggested Mack continue to reach out to you. To not give you the option of skirting your responsibilities. Looking back and knowing you, if you were in your right mind, you never would’ve abandoned them. I’m sorry, G. I feel like I got in the way.”
His confession and apology are unexpected. I’m not quite sure what to make of it. What I do know is that if it weren’t for Carson, Kenna wouldn’t have had anyone to lean on when I broke us.
Turning off the burner, I plate the last of the pancakes.
Then, I clear the emotion clogging my throat and turn to Carson, looking him in the eyes. “Honestly, I should be thanking you, Carse. If it weren’t for you, Kenna wouldn’t have had anyone to lean on after Katie’s death. I carelessly pushed her away, fooling myself into thinking I was doing what was best for her. Then, instead of trying to grieve ina healthy way, I coped by drowning myself in alcohol and prescription pills. You were there for her when I should’ve been along every step of the way. And while I’m jealous as hell that it wasn’t me, I’m also thankful for each and every time you had her back.”
“Shit. It’s pretty early for these deep conversations. What do you say we hug it out and let the past stay in the past?” He gives me a watery-eyed grin.
I smile back at him, shaking my head at his theatrics, then bring him in for a real hug. I pat his back a few times, and we part when a throat clears from behind us.
“Care to share what has the two of you so emotional this morning? It’s Christmas!” Kenna stands near the kitchen island, holding a grinning Cadence on her hip. My daughter’s hair is wild, and she’s still in her Christmas footie pajamas. Kenna’s hair is pulled on the top of her head in a bun, and she’s wearing a pair of pajamas that have the same Christmas print to match Cadence’s. The two of them standing there together look like home.Myhome.
Instead of answering Kenna’s question, I ask one of my own, “Are my girls hungry this morning?” I go to grab Cadence out of her arms.
She raises her eyebrow at my question, then shakes her head, a grin spreading over her face. “Are we ever not? What’s on the menu?”
“All of Ray’s favorites.” I step aside so Kenna can see what’s on the table behind me.
She smiles up at me and replies, “This looks delicious, Griff. Thank you. Did you just call her ‘Ray’?”
I smirk back at her, “I did—it’s my new nickname for her—she’s my Little Ray of sunshine. She brightens up my life just like her mama.”
Kenna’s cheeks turn the most beautiful shade of scarlet. “I love it,” she says before placing Cadence in her highchair.
After we finished breakfast, Kenna said it was time for Cadence to open her Christmas presents from Santa.
As our daughter opens her last present, looking more interested in the wrapping paper and the box the stuffed elephant came in, I walk over to the tree.
“There’s a few more to open up,” I say as I place a gift bag in front of Cadence and put the small box and two envelopes for Kenna and Carson in my hoodie pocket.
My Little Ray dives right into her present, throwing the tissue paper aside and pulling out a small blue and white jersey.
Kenna helps Cadence lift the jersey up, turning it around to show the ninety-one and DADDY across the back of a Colorado Summit jersey.
“Oh, this is so cute! It’s actually perfect for what we got you for Christmas,” Kenna says, becoming bashful and hiding her face behind Cadence.
I smile back at her, not knowing where she’s going with this. “And what’s that?”
Kenna pulls out her phone. Once she’s swiped a few times, she turns her phone over for me to see.
On the screen is an airline confirmation for two flights from Minneapolis to Denver for New Year’s Eve day, with the return flight coming back a week later.
“Sunshine, are you messing with me right now?” I question, not wanting to get my hopes up.
She shakes her head at me. “I thought since my season is over, and I’m on winter break from school, Cadence and I could come visit you for a week in Denver. I looked at your schedule, and your team has a stretch of home games, so I thought it’d be perfect timing for us to surprise you. Your dad even said he could make it out for a few days to meet Cadence.”
I’m speechless. I don’t even know what to say. This is the most thoughtful gift Kenna could’ve given me. The stress and sadness of not seeing Cadence have taken a toll on me.
