No one in my life would believe it if I told them, but my brain can be a dark and twisty place sometimes.
Jo settles back against Jordan. “J, you know you’re the only man for me, but Elliot is a tall, insanely attractive guy who used to play hockey. I’m pretty sure I’ve read that book.”
I chuckle, leaning forward and kissing Jo’s cheek before wandering to the coffee pot. “Sorry to disappoint, Jo Jo, but I stopped playing in high school and never got into a single fight.”
“Could have gone all the way,” my dad says, handing me one of the Christmas mugs from the counter and the milk then tossing an arm around my shoulders in a side hug.
“You could have?” Jo asks, her incredulous voice making me laugh.
“Fuck no, he couldn’t have.” My brother Noah’s amused voice comes from the direction of the living room. I glance through the door and see him lying on one of the couches under a pile of blankets, his eyes half closed. He’s an oral surgery resident and was on call last night, so he probably only got here a couple of hours ago.
“Ignore my dad,” my youngest brother Cooper says, sauntering down the stairs. “He’s always felt a little salty that none of us followed in his athletic footsteps.”
“What athletic footsteps?” Jo asks, her gaze ping-ponging around the kitchen.
“College hockey, University of Boston. Two-time Frozen Four champions. Drafted to the Bruins but I blew out my kneebefore my rookie season.” I laugh at how my dad puffs out his chest a little the way he always does when he talks about his hockey glory days.
“Hold up,” Jo says, breaking away from Jordan and looking at my dad. “You’re telling me that you almost played professional hockey?” She turns to Jordan, Cooper, and me. “And not one single one of you very tall, extremely attractive, and well-built men followed in his footsteps?”
“Jo Jo, do you have an athlete kink I don’t know about?” Jordan tries to look stern, but he has humor dancing in his eyes.
“Every woman has an athlete kink, J. It’s like, the law or something. I don’t make the rules.”
My dad snickers and picks up his coffee mug from the counter, coming over to kiss Jo on the cheek, winking at me. “A travesty, isn’t it? Elliot had the most raw talent, but he bowed out in high school to focus on his love affair with computers instead.”
I know my dad is joking, and he never tried to force something on us that we didn’t want, but it still stings a little. I did love computers, but I loved hockey too, and I would have kept playing but I had anxiety that made playing such an intense, high-speed sport basically my worst nightmare. Watching it? Absolutely yes. Playing? Pass.
I roll my eyes. “Oh, yes, I’m such a disappointment, getting my PhD in computer science at the age of twenty-six and being the youngest tenured professor in the entire history of MassTech.”
My mom tosses her oven mitts on the counter and pats my cheek. “Elliot, honey, you could never be a disappointment to me.”
I toss an arm around my mom’s shoulder. “We don’t deserve you, Pamela Wyles.”
She laughs. “You sure don’t, but here I am anyway, and don’t we all look fantastic and festive,” she says, her voice bright as she glances around the kitchen. “Noah, honey, get in here; I’m having a moment and you’re missing it.”
A crash from the living room that sounds a whole lot like a body falling off the couch followed by Noah’s “Ow, shit,” has us all laughing. “More coffee,” he grumbles, shuffling into the kitchen wrapped in a blanket, his hair sticking up in a million directions and his eyes red-rimmed.
“Rough one last night?” I ask, reaching for a mug and pouring his coffee, adding the weird Christmas creamer he likes. Noah takes the mug from me, downing the hot liquid like it’s water and he’s been walking in the desert for a year.
He nods, looking a little more alive as the caffeine hits his system. “Car accident victim. Shattered jaw. It was a whole thing.”
“You love it.” Noah is mostly the human equivalent of a puppy dog in his daily life, but he’s wanted to be an oral surgeon since he was a teenager and is fiercely dedicated to it.
He grins at me. “You know it.”
“There’s my guy.” My mom comes over and hooks her arm though Noah’s. “So glad you’ve come to join the living.”
Noah kisses the top of her head and takes another sip of his coffee. “As if I could sleep through a Pam Wyles Christmas.”
“I do run an excellent Christmas, and I’m just so happy to have you all here.” She glances around, her eyes misty as she takes everyone in, her gaze resting on Jordan for an extra second.
Jordan swallows hard, and Jo wraps her arm around his waist, squeezing, smiling when he leans down and presses a kiss to the top of her head. After Allie died, Jordan stayed away from Boston for a couple of years, only coming back this past summer after he and Jo got together and then moving here permanentlywith Jo right before Thanksgiving. This is his first Christmas home in a while, and I know my mom is feeling the enormity of it. She feels big and loves way, way out loud.
“Don’t be weird, Mom. We’re all here. We’re all happy about it. Let’s move on.” In his oddly perceptive way of reading the room, Cooper lightens the mood immediately.
My mom swats him on the back of the head with a dish towel. “Ungrateful little shit.”
“That’s me,” Cooper drawls, a lazy grin on his face as he leans against the counter. “So ungrateful. Who was the one who took the day off yesterday so I could run to the grocery store for you every time you forgot something, which was always? And who’s the one who got you the best Christmas present in the entire world?”
