Page 43 of The Goalie and Santa's Little Helper

“Ant, I’m so?—”

He shakes his head and shifts his weight so he can reach over and hug me. I wrap my arms around him, and he lets out a heavy breath—probably worth the weight of the world—over my shoulder.

“Don’t say sorry. I gave you shit for tricking my sister into spending time with you, but really, I made it all happen. And when I found out he was coming home early, I figured it was probably because the news wasn’t great.”

I peel back but keep my hand on his shoulder. I don’t think he needs it there, but I do. I need to hold my friend.

“Does he know that you know?”

He sniffles and nods.

“I told them both I knew what was really going on the night I gave you that.” He gestures to my right eye.

I press my fingertips to my upper cheek and chuckle.

“What, this? It was nothing. Barely a flesh wound,” I joke, quoting the old Monty Pythons that his dad made us watch a few summers ago. It makes Anthony laugh, which was the point.

“Do you really love her?” His head tilts, and his eyes hold mine, the rage no longer there, but I doubt the worry will ever leave them. And that’s okay.

I nod.

“Yeah, man. I really do. And I’m so goddamn afraid to tell her.” I laugh nervously. It’s so weird to admit this in front of him after everything.

His lip tugs up on one side, and he shakes his head.

“Nah, don’t be afraid of that. That’s the one thing you don’t have to worry about, Noah. Frankie’s been practicing writing her name as Frankie Drake since junior high. She’s yours. Just promise me?—”

“I promise,” I cut in. He doesn’t have to finish his demand. Whatever it is, I promise.

Don’t hurt her.

Love her.

Put her first.

Support her.

Fight for her.

Keep her safe.

All of it. I promise.

“We good, man?” I hold out my hand, and my friend drops his gaze, shaking with a silent chuckle before clasping his hand with mine.

“Yeah, we’re good. For now. But we’re still both going to be captains. And I’m not planning on taking it easy on you.”

I smirk, standing, then helping him to his feet.

“Good. Neither am I.”

15/

frankie

I’m notsure what Christmas magic is happening on that ice, but my brother just scored on Noah, and in return, Noah . . . hugged him. Like, the proud bro-hug thing. Not a passive aggressive “good job, now here’s a punch to the gut” kind of hug.

“What is happening?” I utter out loud.

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