Page 21 of The Hockey Grump Saves Christmas

Jesus fucking Christ, what is she doing?

“I should go.” I angle the phone away from Natalie so she disappears from my parents’ view.

But damn her if she doesn’t grab my hand and turn it back. I definitely wasn’t ready for that.

“I just have to tell you, Mr. and Mrs. Woods, that you have raised a remarkable man. He’s shown such kindnessto everyone here at the…” She does that looking-up-at-me thing again, “The…Exceptionally Specialist Rehabilitation Center for Sportspeople. He’s bright and charming and always has a smile. He even chatted to my aunt on the phone last night because she’s such a fan.”

“Aw.” Mom gets a proud, gooey look on her face.

“Anywa—” I try to turn away again, but Natalie’s grip is firm and determined.

“Yes,” Natalie goes on with a sugary cheer that would make cotton candy think it wasn’t quite sweet enough. “And he’s really entering into the Christmas spirit. Has your son always been such a fan of the festive season?”

My parents nod enthusiastically and speak at once. There’s an “Oh yes” from Dad and an “Always” from Mom.

“I can tell,” Natalie says, tipping her head back to look at me and this time holding my gaze. “I could see the Christmas spirit coursing through his veins like twinkling fairy lights the moment I met him.”

I break contact with her fake adoring gaze before it enrages me to the point I can’t hide it from my folks.

“Oh, he’s always loved it,” Mom says. “He gets just as excited now as he did when he was a little kid opening his presents first thing Christmas morning.”

“This will be our first ever Christmas not all together,” Dad says.

“Yes, but it’s for the best.” Mom looks wistful. “So lucky he was able to get a last-minute spot at your amazing center. Even if it is over the holidays.”

My skin is crawling with the awkwardness of this. It has to stop. “Anyw?—”

“Yes.” Natalie prevents me from wrapping this up. “Such a very big stroke of very bigluck, huh, Gabe?” She digs me hard in the ribs with an elbow so inhumanly sharp it makes me jump.

“And so generous of him to send us on this cruise so we’re not moping around at home without him,” Dad says.

“Yes, no moping,” Natalie says. “We’ll have no moping at Christmastime will we, Gabe?”

This is a nightmare. It was all supposed to be so simple. But one woman in a bunny costume later, and I’m sucked into a hellish nightmare.

“All right, thanks for calling, folks.” Let’s wrap up this torture. “Glad you’re having fun already. Bet you have to get to a game of deck darts or whatever it is you play on cruise ships.”

“Shuffleboard,” Dad says. “Starts in twenty minutes.”

“Great, okay. Have a fabulous day. And we’ll?—”

“And don’t you worry about this guy.” Natalie stretches up on the tiptoes of her good foot to put her arm around me. Her hand hooks around the side of my neck, bringing with it the sugary aroma of cookie dough and something resembling a pleasant tickle. “We, that is me and all of our extremely expert experts here, will be working our hardest to get that naughty, naughty shoulder back in action and barging into other players on the ice just as soon as we can.”

“It’s good to have met you, Natalie,” Mom says. “Great to know Gabe’s in such excellent hands. I’m glad you just happened to be there when we called.”

“Oh, so am I.” Natalie’s voice is full of a tone that’s all for me. “I could not be more delighted that I was here to meet you. It’s been very,veryenlightening.”

She finally releases her grip on my phone hand and waves goodbye to Mom and Dad as I end the call.

“Well, well, well.” Natalie drags her hand from my neck and plants it on her hip, nipping my T-shirt in at her waist. She has the sort of smile on her face that self-satisfied movie detectives wear when they announce they’ve figured out who the killer is. “So, you’ve sent your parents away and lied to them about where you are so you can spend the holidays alone and not have to do any Christmas things with them, which you’ve pretended your whole life that you enjoy but have always hated.”

I ignore her alarmingly accurate assessment of the situation. “What the holy fucking hell was that performance all about? You’re a top shoulder injury manipulation and repair specialist at the Exceptionally Specialist Rehabilitation Center for Sportspeople?”

“I am an actress, remember?” she says with a dramatic toss of her hair as she turns back to her baking. “And you arewelcome.”

She shapes the dough she tipped out into a mound, then flattens it.

“Welcome for what?”

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