Page 46 of Puck of the Irish

I waketo empty arms in an empty bed. I frown, sitting up and rubbing my eyes as I glance around the room. No sign of Nat. I hadn’t dreamed all of that, had I? No, there’s no way in hell even my wildest dreams could have come up with the utter perfection that was last night. Shit, she hadn’t freaked out again and bailed early this morning, had she?

I run my hands through my hair, worry worming its way inside my mind, but then I hear faint laughter coming from down the hall and relax, recognizing Nat’s voice. I realize then that this was the first night in weeks that I haven’t had that damned nightmare about Mac’s place. Am I over them finally or…was it having Nat here with me somehow eased my mind, even in sleep? I sigh, assuming the latter because that just makes sense. She soothes my soul in too many ways to count just by being near me.

God, I’m a fucking sap.

It takes me a second to remember that it’s Christmas morning, and the thought makes me smile widely. Thefirst Christmas in my first house, with my first…girlfriend, surrounded by the people I love. It’s a lot, but not in agoing to freak the fuck outkind of way. In a good way. In the best way.

I rummage in the closet and pull on one of my old Viper sweatshirts before padding down the hall. Delicious smells waft towards me and my stomach rumbles loudly as my mouth waters. The best part of having mom in town is always the home-cooked meals, but I didn’t expect her to get up this morning and make breakfast. There’s already a fire roaring in the hearth and soft Christmas music plays from the Bluetooth speakers installed throughout the house. The sight before me sends a swift, unexpected jolt through my chest: mom and Nat cooking together in the kitchen, laughing and smiling like they’ve done it a thousand times, and Ray seated at the island drinking coffee, looking on like he’s never been happier.My family.

Fuck.

And not fuck as in I’m ready to cut and run, but fuck as in I’m done for. This is it for me. I already know it and while that should absolutely scare the shit out of me, it doesn’t. It excites me and makes my chest feel all warm and fuzzy andfuck, who the hell am I even right now?I should be running for the hills. I should be afraid of all of this happening so fast. I should be apprehensive about diving so deep in my first real adult relationship. But I’m not. I’m all fucking in and it feels one thousand percent right.

But I can’t even imagine saying something so insane to Nat yet. So, I’ll just keep that ridiculous little nugget of crazy tucked way down deep for now, and run to Shep for advice later like I do with just about everything. He always knows the right answer and never sugar coats shit. If I’m being an idiot, he tells me. If I’m being an asshole, he tells me. And if I’m being completely fucking nuts by feeling this much for Nat already then he’ll tell me that too.

Nat looks up and catches my eye across the open space as I make my way through the living room. She gives me a warm, secret smile, and ayou doing ok with all this?look. I smile back and nod, telling her that I’m doing just fine. Mom glances up then and smiles widely.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart!” she says, sheer joy shining in her blue eyes that she passed down to me. This is the first Christmas morning we’ve spent together in a long time. Once I got older, she and Ray started a tradition of taking little trips for Christmas. They’ve been all over the world together. Sometimes it’s a cozy cabin deep in the Canadian mountains. Others it’s a ritzy resort in the Swedish Alps. Sometimes the beach, sometimes a ranch. I can’t believe they postponed this one, but I can’t deny that I’m grateful as hell. And I know Shep will eat it up since mom said the reason was mostly due to him.

“Merry Christmas,” I say, slapping Ray on the shoulder as I pass and coming around the counter. Mom wraps me in a tight hug, kissing my cheek when I pull away.

“Morning. Merry Christmas,” I say, leaning in to kiss Nat softly on the temple, making her blush ever so slightly. She’s in a pair of old pajama pants that Shep had gotten me for my birthday a few years back with flying pigs on them, and an old Cornell Hockey t-shirt. Her hair is up in one of those messy buns that look so damn good on her and it takes a whole lot of effort to keep my hands to myself. I love the fact that she helped herself to my clothes and felt comfortable enough to come out here and cook with mom on her own. Is all of this real? Is this some kind of dream? This is all too fucking perfect, right? Doesn’t something awful have to happen now, like someone gets shot or kidnapped or we break up over some stupid miscommunication?

“Merry Christmas to you too, sleepy head.” I roll my eyes at her but lean in to check out all the plates and platters and bowlsfull of enough food to feed a small army they have laid out across the black marble countertop.

“It smells amazing in here.”

“We’ve got pancakes, bacon, eggs, French toast, and biscuits.”

I blink. “I really had all that shit in here?”

“I stocked the kitchen the other day when you were playing in the garage with Jax,” Nat says with a laugh. “I thought we should probably have some supplies on hand on the very good chance half the damn team ended up here at some point this week.” I smile at her, knowing she’s probably right.

“Oh, who is Jax?” mom asks, pulling finished biscuits off of the baking sheet and onto the platter.

“He used to work security at the apartment—you met him last year when you came out for Fourth of July I think. Anyway, he’s kind of a jack of all trades and I figured I could use the help around here, and I really like the kid, so.” I shrug a shoulder.

I’d offered Jax a job working for me directly when I’d moved out of the complex, and he’d jumped at the chance. He’s a good kid and a hard worker, and knows a shit ton about a shit ton, but especially cars. His dad owned a garage when he was a kid and it’s his dream to open his own one day too. So, I figure I can help get him closer to that dream because God knows I’m paying him more than the apartment was, and he can help keep my cars running and take care of stuff around here, especially when we’re traveling. I trust him to take care of the place and I know he’d much rather be out here than sitting at that desk in a suit. So, it’s a win-win.

“The Mustang is looking really good, son,” Ray says, taking a sip of his coffee. I grin at the mug—it’s a giant Stitch head and one of my favorites. Mac has a weird obsession with coffee cups (though she hardly ever actuallyusesany of them, she just likes to collect and display them), and has found random ones foreach of the Sin Bin members. I fucking love that little blue alien and I don’t even care if it’s a kid’s movie.This is my family. I found it all on my own. It’s little and broken, but still good—get the fuck outta here. I cry like a baby every damn time. Memories flare up in my mind of mom and me in our tiny little apartment watching that movie over and over because it was one of the very few DVDs we had and we couldn’t afford cable.Wewere little and broken, but still really fucking good. To say it’s a sentimental attachment is an understatement.

I clear my throat and focus back on the conversation.

“Thanks, I just got the paint touched up a few months ago, and Jax is obsessed with washing and waxing the damn thing.” Ray laughs and then mom claps her hands.

“Alright everyone: dig in!”

We all eat breakfast, open gifts, and spend the rest of the day just enjoying our time together. Nat texts her dad to tell him Merry Christmas, and though I know she isn’t ready to get back to whatever their version of normal is, I’m happy when his reply makes a soft smile pull her lips upward. We all go over and visit with Shep, and mom frets over him like he’s a baby bird who fell out of the nest. He doesn’t even try to pretend that he doesn’t love it. Mom basically adopted him as her second son after he lost his parents, and we’ve all been family for the better part of my life.

The fact that Mac and Nat are now part of it as well feels like everything is exactly how it’s supposed to be.

“So, uh, I did a thing…” I say, walking to the edge of the ice with a four-legged fluff ball at my side, tail wagging like crazy as he eyes the ice with a mix of mistrust and excitement.

“Is that a dog??” Jules yells, skating over.

“No, it’s a fucking goldfish,” I say with a roll of my eyes and he gives me a level look, but it doesn’t last long. A smile splits his face as he leans down to give the expected pets.

“What the hell, Rizzo?” Shep says, shaking his head. It’s not an official practice, but a few of us showed up to just fuck around a bit. Shep has been dying being sidelined because of his injury, and while he isn’t ready to suit up and get in the net quite yet—well,he’smore than ready, but the doctors haven’t given him the green light yet—he can skate around for a while with us at least. I was out for a month with a torn rotator cuff a few years back and had felt utterly homesick not being out there with my guys. So, I understand what he’s going through and how much it sucks.

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