Page 68 of It's Mother-Pucking Christmas!

DAKOTA

Iavoided Ryder for the next few days, feeling worse and worse as the hours ticked by.

He texted me nonstop, sending videos and pictures of Dasher, telling me about the senior citizen shenanigans, giving me updates on the meetings he had with recruiters for the big NYC team, forwarding me articles he thought I’d be interested in.

My plan had been to ease off, dial it down, then break the news right before the big game against the Arctic Avengers. But it was like the more I pulled back, the more he came at me.

I was pushing my lasagna around on my plate two days before the big game, hating myself and my life and trying to ignore my nosy family.

“Are you sick?”

“Are you pregnant?”

My mom and my aunts fussed over me.

Gracie wrapped a scarf around my neck. “Is it Ryder?”

“You better not have done anything to that boy,” Uncle Nate warned as my dad commandeered my plate and parceled out my uneaten food to the rest of the family. “The recruiters aregoing to be at the next game. Ryder can’t afford any distractions. That’s what being a hockey girlfriend is about.”

“Dakota is employed. She’s more than Ryder’s girlfriend,” my aunt scolded him.

“Unless she wants an unemployed ex hockey player living in her house, she’s going to have to do some compartmentalization,” Nate said flatly.

My aunt kissed him. “I had an unemployed hockey player living in my house, and he wasfiiine-uh!”

“It was my house,” Granny Murray declared, “and you were sneaking Nate into your room. You hid him under the bed one time like I wasn’t going to be able to find out. Like he didn’t stink to high heaven after hockey practice.”

“Ryder said he wanted to be a stay-at-home dad though, right?” Gracie said.

My aunt immediately went gaga. “Babies!”

“Oh, Dakota!” One aunt came at my uterus with some essential oils. “A new life!”

I had to fight her off.

“More importantly,” my cousin Logan said, draping an arm around my shoulders, “Ryder’s on my team for the holiday family match. You can’t drive him away being mean and bossy. Aunt Babs!” he shrieked as I stabbed my fork at him.

“He’s not wrong, Dakota. You’re hard on men,” my mom admonished. “And Ryder’s not like those Manhattan men you like to date. He’s a nice boy. He’s a good boy.”

“Do we really have to cheer him on at the game?” my uncles complained.

“I’m wearing his jersey,” my mom said, crossing her arms, “and I expect that the rest of this family is going to support him as well.”

“Then we are done, woman!” my dad thundered.

My mom grabbed the spatula from the lasagna pan, brandishing it violently.

“I mean… we are done with this, uh… poorly functioning kitchen. I mean, who has a white fridge anymore?” my dad said hastily. “My god. Yes, I think we need a new kitchen for Christmas. I got that Christmas bonus, after all. I know I said I was buying a boat, but you are worth it.” He kissed her then sat down meekly.

“Nice save.”

“Shut up,” he hissed at his brothers.

I sighed, miserable.

My parents argued, but they loved each other, always had each other’s backs—and ours.

I’d always wanted that. Could have had it with Ryder. I mean, how could I just throw away a man like that?

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