Page 126 of The Christmas You Crash

The Rogues’ representative concludes his remarks and opens the floor to questions, but none of us listen. We’re all too busy processing what just happened.

My dad was fired. He’s no longer the Rogues’ head coach.

It’s done.

The guys talk about Coach Fry and speculate about who they’ll call up to replace him as assistant coach. They don’t seem all that worried about losing their head coach in the middle of the season. But I am. I think I’ll delete all my social media for a while. I don’t know if I can handle the potential backlash.

“Breathe, Oscar. Everything is going to be okay. This is a good thing. People will see that.”

Will they?

“He’s right, Hot Cross Buns,” Griffin says. Mira whacks him upside the head. “Ow! That’s her nickname, Jesus. Lay off me, woman.”

Isla giggles.

Griffin rubs the back of his head. “As I was saying before my roomie assaulted me, you don’t need to worry. Fry is good. Really good. Hell, I think he’s a better offensive coach than your dad. We won’t give the fans reason to blame you for anything.”

“That’s right,” Logan assures me. “We’ll be too busy winning for them to be mad.”

“Thanks, guys,” I say. My heart is full.

“We’re here for both of you,” Sebastian adds.

Ryder grins. “Along those lines, how do you guys feel about helping move shit?”

“What do you mean, move shit?” Maddox leans forward, one eyebrow raised.

“I mean, I know a great way you guys can be here for Lexi and me. We’re getting a place together, so we could use some help moving.”

“Oh my god, are you serious?” Isla claps her hands, bouncing on Maddox’s lap. The big guy groans but smiles.

I nod. “We’re looking at places this week.”

“That’s really great, you two,” Sebastian says. His smile is warm, and I know he means it. “Of course, we’ll help.”

Logan nods. “That’s what family does.”

Family.

Yeah. That’s exactly what we are now.

People don’t hateme as much as I feared they would. Some of them do, don’t get me wrong—the internet is a cesspool of trolls and angry men—but overall, I’ve been pleasantly surprised by the notes of support I’ve received. The media circus still hasn’t died all the way down, but it’s significantly less intense than it was right after my dad said those horrible things to me at the game.

I even went back to school in person yesterday. Granted, Tom was with me, and I got more than my fair share of curious looks, whispers, and not-so-subtly taken photographs, but it was fine. I made it through. And Tom didn’t even have to beat one person up.

“You almost ready, Oscar?” Ryder sidles up to my back and wraps his arms around my waist as I finish putting on my mascara. “We don’t want to be late.”

I give myself one last look in the mirror. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s just dinner with my mom and Jeff. But Ryder and I found an apartment today. One that we love. And it’s really close to Maddox and Isla’s place. It’s not as big and fancy, but it’s large enough that it will hold all our friends. I’m already planning the first dinner party.

So, tonight, I’m telling my mom that Ryder and I are moving in together. I guess I’m nervous she won’t approve. It won’t change my mind, but I want her to be excited for me. For my sake and for Ryder’s.

“Okay,” I say on an exhalation. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

He holds my hand the whole drive, and we make plans for our apartment. Neither of us really has much—most of the furniture in my apartment belongs to my roommate, Sarah, and most of the stuff in his belongs to his roommate, Aaron. Of course, I worry about how I’ll pay for all of it, but Ryder won’t hear it. He tells me he makes more than enough money for the both of us, and all he wants me to worry about paying for is my schooling. And the only reason he’s not paying for that is because I refused. I won’t take advantage of him. I don’t love him for his money or his rising fame, and I never want him to think I do.

“We’re here,” Ryder says as he pulls into my mom’s driveway. He doesn’t let go of my hand or make any move to get out of the car. Just stares at the front door like he’s worried it’s going to bite him.

Running my thumb over his, I ignore my own worries and try to assuage his. “I’ve got you.” I echo the words he so often says back to him. “My mom’s a fan of yours now. They’re going to be excited for us.”

---