Page 55 of Game Misconduct

His throat was suddenly full of a lump that made it hard to speak, and he could feel the corners of his eyes burning. “It’s good to see you too.”

“Does everyone want to come in from the cold?” Chris asked dryly. “Touching as this is, we do have the whole house for your tender reunions.”

“Chris,” Celi said into Danny’s shoulder, “I can and will make you sorry.”

“Not on Christmas you won’t,” he said, his voice full of holiday cheer.

They did follow him in, though, and Danny set Josie down. She clung to his leg as they tried to make their greetings in the hall. “Ah—Celi, Chris, this is my—this is—this is Mike.”

Mike, who’d been hanging back behind him and had picked up the bag, came forward and shook both Chris and Celi’s hands. He looked uncomfortable, a little awkward, but he behaved himself, engaging in small talk with Chris (“so I understand you also play hockey, Mike?”), who picked Josie up so she couldn’t follow while Celi led Danny into the kitchen.

The lump was back in his throat again, because it smelled exactly like their parents’ house on Nochebuena, the heady mélange of meat and spice that promised special treats like tamales and pozole and menudo in addition to a turkey, stuffing, and potatoes. Their parents had always hosted friends and family in the city and anyone within driving distance, unable to stop cooking even when it was the one vacation they took all year, and the house had always been packed, too loud, too warm, almost humid from so many bodies, and Celi and Danny had looked forward to it every year. Just smelling it now almost broke him, knowing that she had put in all of this work just for the five of them. Just for him, really. Instead he pulled her into a hug and tried not to cry.

“Danny,” she said again, patting his back, “it’s okay. We love you, hermanito.”

“I’m fucking sorry, Celi, the last few years have—the last few years—it’s been—Jesus, I’m sorry. This isn’t the time.”

“Whenever you want to talk is the time,” Celi said, into his chest.

“I—not now. But—thank you—for—for not giving up on me.”

She pulled back, and looked at him, fierce and loving. “I would never give up on you.”

He couldn’t help laughing. “One of these days I’m gonna be too much even for you.”

“No such thing, bro,” Celi said, and poked him in the stomach. “Although I gotta say, the self-pity doesn’t look good on you. Mike, though...?”

Danny surprised himself, feeling his face heat a little. “Uh, yeah. He’s, uh, really great.”

“He is,” Celi agreed, surprising him again.

“You were ready to kill him a few weeks ago.”

“Well, that was when I only knew him from the games. He has a good heart,” Celi said, leaning against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest.

“He does,” Danny said, glancing back in the direction of the living room. Mike was still talking to Chris, but he kept looking over at the kitchen door, trying to see how Danny was doing, and he felt that pain in his chest again. “He really does.”

“Come on, let’s get some of this food on the table, huh?”

The dinner wasn’t as awkward as he’d thought it was going to be. Mike didn’t seem like he’d be the chattiest person when he didn’t know people, but he was making a valiant effort to keep the conversation going whenever Danny flagged, particularly when he felt like things were getting too close to home. It helped that the food was really good: Celi had always been better at the cooking portion of helping at the diner than he had, and she’d clearly taken the time to perfect the recipes their mother always wanted both of them to learn. And they had beer, and that helped too, although he tried to limit his drinking when Celi looked at him. He knew she knew.

“So,” Chris said, after a while, “how did you meet Danny, Mike?”

Mike choked on the pozole and said, “Well, uh, I guess you could say we met during my first game with the Cons? I was trying to pick a fight and Danny, uh, kind of kicked my ass.”

“You gave it a good effort,” Danny said.

Mike sighed. “No, dude, you definitely kicked my ass.”

“So you just kept fighting each other?”

“He had something to prove,” Danny said, unable to keep the fondness from his voice.

“But, uh, we started talking online this year, I guess, and we’ve—we’re friends, now, I guess. And Danny’s really helped me improve my game, really, he’s been a better coach to me than my actual coach.”

Chris’s eyebrows went up, but he said, “Well, we always knew Danny had a good sense for the game. But it’s pretty big of you to help someone that broke your tooth like that, man.”

“He, ah, didn’t mean to,” Danny said, although he knew it sounded like a lame excuse. Mike had absolutely meant to, but Danny didn’t mind. He’d do it all over again if he had to. “That’s just how the game goes sometimes.”

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