Page 78 of It's Mother-Pucking Christmas!

“Ryder!” I choked out. “Wait! Ryder, I’m sorry, and I love you.”

“Hey, isn’t that the Crusher?” one of the officers said and pointed, voice muffled behind his gas mask.

“He’s my future grandson-in-law! You can’t stalk family!” Granny Murray yelled.

The handcuffs came out. “You are in violation of your restraining order.”

“This is a fucking circus,”the police chief, who also happened to be my mom’s second cousin, raged. “I’ve never been so embarrassed by this family. Defending an Icebreakers player?”

“It’s Dakota’s boyfriend!” Mom yelled at him. “Some of us want grandchildren. And I can’t believe you put us in jail. Your own family. And on Christmas!”

“For shame!” Granny Murray shouted.

“You committed multiple felonies!” the police chief shrieked.

“They were trying to maim Ryder!” I shouted at him. “You should arrest the Arctic Avengers defensemen.”

“I’m not arresting any hockey players!” he yelled. “It’s already a fucking clusterfuck. I have the news media parked outside of the station. There a guy speaking Swedish talking about the Arctic Avengers fans that tried to ruin a big NHL team’s number one pick.”

“I was saving him,” I said stubbornly.

“Don’t speak to the pigs without a lawyer present!” Granny Murray yelled.

“I thought I was your favorite nephew?” The chief of police was hurt.

“You want to keep that title, sonny? You better let us out.” Granny Murray whipped off her shirt and started chanting in the crowded cell, “Free the people!”

A figure in black appeared in the doorway, scanned us, and made a disgusted noise.

“Hudson!” Gracie cried. “Did you pick up Pugnog and Kringle from animal control?”

Hudson opened up the backpack he wore to show two sneezing pugs.

“Can you let my wife out, Chief?” Hudson asked, his mouth a thin line.

“What’s in it for me?”

“How about my company offers extra security for the Christmas parade.”

The police chief wrinkled his nose. “The city council was up my ass about that.”

“If you want to come for Christmas dinner, you better let us out,” my mom warned.

“Fine, but you have to stay away from the hockey stadium.”

“Fuck no.” Nate crossed his arms. “I’d rather stay in jail.”

“I’ll cook all your favorites,” my mom promised the chief. “Dakota will make you your own personal pan of lobster mac ‘n’ cheese. No one else can touch it, and you can take all the leftovers home.”

“And an extra lasagna!” my mom’s sister wheedled.

“Fine,” the chief grumbled. “But it better be a big pan.” His keys jangled.

My family all pushed their way to the cell door.

Gracie rushed into Hudson’s arms and kissed him. “I’ll help you with parade duty.”

“Nah, I’m going to make Anderson do it. Fucker owes me.”

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