Page 132 of How to Prevent a Fumble

“I’ll just have to kick your ass on the field next season,” I assure him.

Because despite the fact that I’ll miss the hell out of him, I want the absolute best for my friend.

Even if that means beating his ass a year from now.

I hold my breath as Briar and Elara walk through the door, the rustling of a paper bag the first thing that hits my ears. The second is Champ’s paws pitter pattering toward me. The second she rounds the corner and she sees me, her eyes light up and she comes bounding in my direction, letting out a happy bark.

“You look exhausted,” I tell her as if she could understand me. She nuzzles into me in response, and I pat her head.

“Make sure you hang up your coat,” Briar tells Elara fromthe entryway. “It’s been on the floor the last few times I’ve come out here and we don’t need anyone tripping on it, alright?”

The heels of her boots echo in the room as she comes into view, the small smile on her face falling as she looks around the packed room.

“What?” she says quietly, her eyes zeroing in on me. “What is this?”

“Well, it’s mostly for Elara,” I tell her quickly.

“I—”

“Oh mygod,”Elara yells as she walks into the room, her little arms glued to her sides as she looks around, her jaw on the floor.

“Gosh,” Briar corrects her.

“God is the proper term for this, mom. It’s Christmas,”

“That’s not—” realizing she doesn’t have the energy to correctanythingabout that statement, Briar swallows her words, instead crossing her arms over her chest.

“Can we get a tree?” Elara asks, turning to her mom and pulling on her light blue sweater.

Briar looks at me, blinking slowly, her eyes wide.

I nod subtly, and after a few beats, her chin moves downward just an inch, her eyes understanding.

“We’ll get a tree,” she tells her, her eyes back to the stack of presents behind me.

“When?” she asks.

While Briar sputters like a truck stuck in mud, I step in. “How about tomorrow night?” I ask.

Shooting me a thankful look, Briar nods. “Tomorrow night sounds great.”

“I want the fattest tree here,” Elara whispers, dragging her mom and I through the rows of Christmas trees.

With Briar’s hand firmly grasped in her left and mine in her right, Elara bulldozes her way toward the biggest tree she can find.

“You need to ask Leo if he wants that big of a tree,” Briar tells her as she realizes just which tree we’re headed toward, a panicked twinkle in her eyes.

I look it over, breathing in the calming scent of pine surrounding us.

We drove a little outside of the city to a small Christmas tree farm. Thankfully, despite how close it is to the holiday, they still had some great ones in stock, and the second Elara hopped out of the car, she knew exactly which one she wanted to see.

Elara’s large puffer jacket shook with every step she took, a large smile on her face as she pulled us toward it.

“We can get whatever tree she wants,” I assure her. Sure, it may be a little big for the space, but we’ll make due. The girls get whatever they want, no matter what.

Elara looks at me, her eyes even wider with wonder. “Really?” she asks, her head snapping back to her mother’s so fast I almost fear she gets whiplash.

Briar rolls her eyes. “I guess we can get it. Let’s inspect it first.”

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