Page 77 of Ask Your Mom If I'm Real

My siblings and cousins had tried, and failed, to get her to move into our places—all of us had asked. The only stroke of luck we’d received from her stubbornness was when a place opened up that was two doors down from my eldest sister, Noel.

“Be careful, team,” Coach called as we hauled ass out of the plane the moment the doors were thrust open.

“Ten-four,” I called as I brushed past him.

I jogged to my rental, wishing I had my truck when it was about to be snowmageddon hell out, and started driving toward the grocery store.

After picking up the essentials, I began heading toward Hooker, where my family lived.

I was lucky to get drafted to the Thundercats right out of college. The drive from my family home to the rink was less than an hour, giving me plenty of time to drive and spend with my family any time I wanted to.

I’d chosen to buy a house in Hooker as well.

My eyes were on the drive, taking in all the Christmas decorations downtown when a flash of curly brown hair caught my attention.

My eyes narrowed as I saw the woman attached to all that hair, and my heart leaped.

It was her.

Pulling over in the first available spot, I got out and hurried toward the candy store that I’d never noticed until she was standing outside of it.

I was about halfway to her when she turned, and I got a good glimpse of the side of her face.

It was black and blue.

Holy shit.

I could tell that she’d tried to conceal it with makeup, but there was no hiding a bruise that size.

My stomach somewhere between my knees, I called out to her. “Merriam?”

She turned slowly, and her eyes caught on mine.

The instant connection between us felt like another puzzle piece had clicked into place.

“Hey.” She smiled genuinely. “What are you doing here?”

I swallowed the instant demand to know what happened to her face and instead lied, “I’m here to get my grandmother some candy.”

Her brows rose. “You are?”

I nodded. “She has a sweet tooth. And I had no clue you worked here in particular. I swear I’m not a stalker.”

She turned and untucked her hair from her ear, covering the bruise on the side of her face as much as she could.

“Sure, come on in. I was just changing the countdown on the door.” She indicated the number 2 on the door that now read “2 days until Christmas.”

I fell into step behind her, my hands itching to reach for her and pull her into my arms.

“What kind of candy does she like?” she asked, being sure to keep the bruised side of her face away from me the entire time.

“Um.” I hesitated. “My grandmother likes pretty much anything that has sugar in it.”

That was an understatement.

My grandmother loved anything sweet.

Cookies.

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