Page 90 of It's Mother-Pucking Christmas!

“Because I love her.” Hudson kissed Gracie again.

“Don’t worry, Dasher.” Dakota kissed his black nose. “My dad’s just drunk.”

“Just take him for a run,” Dakota’s mom coaxed me. “Get some of that energy out, then we’ll have brunch. How about that?”

“I will never come to another Christmas again.” Dakota was threatening her family as we pulled on boots, hats, sweaters, and coats while Dasher freaked out that he was going on a WALK! OUTSIDE in the SNOW!

“You can’t have a dog like that without a house,” the uncles thundered as Dakota’s massive family spilled out into the yard.

Mark urged everyone across the street. “Out of my yard. Mind the Christmas ornaments,” he bellowed as Dakota almost tripped over a yard elf.

“Come on, Dasher.” I set him down on the sidewalk. He shook himself then jumped almost up to my shoulders in excitement.

“We can just run him down to the river and back,” Hudson said, smoothing a black skullcap onto his head.

“Not yet, Ryder.” Dakota’s dad held out an arm.

“Dad, what the hell?”

“Dakota, what the hell?” Mark mimicked her, a big grin spreading on his face. “Dasher needs to see his new house first so if he slips his leash he knows where to come back home to.”

“Just put an AirTag on him,” Dakota said then—

“Wait, what house?” I interjected, frowning.

Mark and his brothers were grinning as they crossed the street. We followed, confused.

“Um,” Dakota said when her dad stopped in front of the house across the street.

“Ta-da!” Mark announced with a grin.

He unlocked the gate in the white picket fence that surrounded one of the holiday-card houses, a Sold sticker slapped on the real estate sign in the front yard, which had a photo of one of Dakota’s mom’s cousins on it—or maybe it was an aunt’s sister-in-law?

“I told you,” Mark repeated, his brothers giddy beside him. “A dog like that needs a house and a yard.” He slapped a key in my hand.

“Merry Christmas, kids! And Dasher!” Mark bent down to pet the husky.

“No!” Dakota’s mouth dropped open.

“Wait…” I looked up in awe at the three-story house. The dormers of the finished attic glowed softly, decorated with wreaths.

“Welcome home, Ryder!” Dakota’s dad put me in a headlock then gave me a hug.

“Are you serious?” My eyes burned. I looked around wildly. “There’s a porch and a yard and a living room. But there’s a Christmas tree in there. Doesn’t someone live here?”

“You do!” Dakota’s uncles whooped.

I half sobbed out a laugh. “A house, Dakota, we have a house!” I picked her up and spun her around and around while she shrieked and Dasher bounded around us. “A home! I’m finally home! We’re home, Dasher!”

Tears ran down Dakota’s face. Her aunts and mom were sobbing.

The dog raced to the front porch, spun around, came back, hopped the fence like it wasn’t even there, and zoomed back. Hudson caught him before he could jump the fence again.

“There’s a taller fence in the back,” Uncle Bic assured me.

“Welcome home, sweetheart!” Babs wrapped me in a teary hug, then Dakota’s family was piling on us.

“You can’t buy her a house,” Nico complained.

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