Page 82 of Trade Deadline

Fingers gently tip my chin up, and my heart clenches. Blaine’s face is filled with so much love that a stray tear falls down my cheek.

“He sounds like an incredible man. I’m sorry that I won’t get to thank him for raising such an amazing guy.” He presses a soft kiss against my lips.

“He would have loved you,” I admit.

Blaine’s eyes widen slightly in surprise. “Really?”

“When you were drafted, he was all, ‘This Blaine Olsen kid is going to be great for Thunder; he’s fast, he’s nimble, he’s got a killer wrist shot. I have a really good feeling about this.’ He was in awe of you, thought you were incredible.”

He gives me an aw-shucks grin, tucking his chin to his chest, fiddling with the strings on his sweatpants.

“He would have been so honored to meet you. He might have talked your ear off and given you some pointers from his armchair, but he would’ve loved you.” I smile. The last game he watched before he passed away was the night Blaine scored his very first NHL hat trick. He jumped from his chair, pumping his fists into the air with joy.

It feels like kismet to be sitting here in this living room with Blaine, talking about my grandpa, when he was the one who spoke so highly of him for years at this exact place.

He sits down next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me into him. I rest my head on his chest, listening to the soft thud of his heartbeat, and wrap my arms around his waist.

“Thank you for sharing him with me,” he murmurs into my hair.

I press a gentle kiss to his pec through his t-shirt.

“Will you tell me about Christmas with your family? Is there anything I should be prepared for?”

I feel his laugh vibrate through his chest. “Christmas has always been pretty chaotic. We’d have both my grandparents over, my mom’s sister, and my cousin. Usually, Elliot and I would be running around the house with our new hockey sticks, and most of the time we’d be wearing full gear, too. You could guarantee that we’d end up breaking something, no matter how much my mom yelled at us to be careful.”

I look up at him. The image of a young Blaine and Elliot dressed head to toe in hockey gear, surrounded by broken vases and ornaments, runs through my mind. I can’t help but laugh.

“Didn’t you go to the same college, too? What did your parents do then? You weren’t able to travel with hockey, right?”

He nods. “My parents would visit us on campus for Christmas; they would rent a house or stay in a hotel, but once we went pro, Elliot was in Vancouver and I was here in Chicago, so they would alternate… One year they would visit El and the next they’d visit me. We usually get a couple of days off for Christmas, but we’d be exhausted, so we settled for FaceTime.”

“That sounds tough on your parents... I bet they’re excited to be able to spend it with the both of you for the first time in a few years.”

“Yeah it was. They often felt guilty about whichever one of us was on their own, but we would spend it with our teammates or something. Like with Zach—his parents do the same with his brother, Brody, so they’ll alternate between New Jersey and here, but he’s lucky that his parents live in Chicago, so it’s not as bad. He’ll be coming tomorrow because his parents have gone to Jersey, but yeah, being able to spend Christmas with both my parents and my brother for the first time in like, six years, is pretty cool.”

We both look up when Jacob walks in holding his overnight bag. He’s dressed in navy chinos and a light gray knit sweater decorated with white snowflakes.

“I’m ready.” His smile is shaky from nerves.

I peel myself away from Blaine’s warm embrace and walk over to my brother, giving his elbow a gentle squeeze in reassurance. We’re staying at Blaine’s apartment tonight and tomorrow night—at Blaine’s request—so we can have a few drinks and not have to worry about anything. It took some convincing, but as soon as Blaine mentioned that his apartment building has a spa, Jacob quickly agreed.

I pass by him to slip on my shoes and collect my own bag, and when I turn to face the door, Blaine’s standing there with a wide grin and rubbing his hands together.

“Are you ready for a crazy Olsen Christmas?”

Twenty-Five

Blaine

“Blaine! I need your muscles!”My mom shouts from the kitchen.

I came home from collecting Alex and Jacob to find my mom had taken over my kitchen, and it’s been like a whirlwind since I walked through the door. Elliot’s standing next to her, dipping his finger into the bowl of cookie dough whenever she’s not looking or busy talking to Jacob. My dad’s at the breakfast bar on his iPad, and Alex is decorating the cake they brought with them.

My kitchen has never looked so busy, and there’s currently stuff out on the countertops that I didn’t even know I owned.

“I need you to knead this for me.” She steps out of the way and points to a large mountain of wet dough on the counter.

“Knead it?” I ask.

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