Page 14 of Time Out

“That’s true.” I nodded seriously. Being an uncle was sometimes serious business. “But you’ve been a good boy all year, right?”

Behind him, Annie snorted.

His six-year-old face scrunched up. “Mostly?”

“Then I don’t think you have to worry about coal, Luka.” I wiggled my finger in the screen for him to come closer. “And if you do get coal from Santa, don’t forget that Uncle Davis sent you something, too, okay? I promise you’ll have presents.”

His blue eyes went wide and bright. “A Jeep?”

He’d been talking about that ride-on toy since his birthday in April, and Annie forced me to hold off on getting it for him until Christmas. They lived a simple life on Duke’s farm and refused to allow me to spoil their kids throughout the year unless it was something necessary, like books, but on Christmas, I was allowed to go wild.

So yeah… Luka was getting a Jeep and an Escalade because what good were ride-on toys on the farm if you couldn’t race against friends or your younger brother?

“Can’t say. But make sure you’re extra good for your mom tonight. Maybe read a book to your baby sister you’ll meet soon, and we’ll see what happens in the morning, okay?”

He didn’t hear a word I said, lost in Jeep excitement. “Love you, Uncle Davis! You da’ best.”

“All right. Put Grandma back on the phone, would you, kiddo?”

My mom’s phone swung through the air giving me a blurry look inside Annie and Duke’s one-hundred-plus-year-old farmhouse before my mom’s gentle smile came into focus.

“Love you. You going to see anyone tomorrow?”

I’d been invited to my buddy Cole’s place with his girlfriend, Eden, and Cole’s son, Jasper. Cole was our quarterback, and he’d taken me under his wing, even letting me stay with him for a couple weeks when I first moved to town. He lived in his hometown, a small town north of Nashville, and I usually loved going there. Our tight end, Dawson, had mentioned us getting together and hanging out, and having some drinks, and Yeets, one of our wide receivers, invited me over to his family’s cookout. He had his entire family visiting from Alabama and one more mouth to feed out of the thirty who’d been in the stands earlier would be nothing. The idea of Yeets’s cookout made my mouth water at the mere thought. His Southern mama could cook.

“I’ve got places I can go.”

Outside the food, I wasn’t feeling any of them though. All that love and mushiness and familial drama. Something had been missing lately, and it’d all started that night in October….

Probably had to do with this being my first year not making it home for Christmas or being around family at all.

Or could be…

No. Maggie was a great time. I’d enjoyed her. Had I thought about her and the sounds she made when I slid deep inside her since? When I wrapped my hand around her hair when she was on her knees at the edge of my bed? What man wouldn’t? She’d been short and curvy with massive tits I could have played with for hours. I hated she’d walked out when I’d wanted her to stay. The sting of that hadn’t quite left me.

It was one night of fun. Great fun. I needed to remember that—and soon, go find someone else.

It’d be easier if I could stop thinking of her.

“Okay. We’ll call you tomorrow once we unbury ourselves from the mountains of presents sitting in Annie’s garage.”

“Love you, Mom.”

My dad’s voice came through, muffled from a distance. I didn’t need to hear him to know what he said. “And tell Dad I’ll go soak in the hot tub.”

“Love you, too. Davis. Sleep well, and Merry Christmas.”

I shoved off the couch and was careful as I made my way to the kitchen to grab an ice pack from the freezer, because I might have been a fully grown adult, but my dad’s advice was always sound. My shoulder and ankle, and lower back were sore as hell. College football never did me dirty like this.

My phone rang as I went over to the freezer, digging through frozen vegetables, looking for ice packs, and I didn’t bother glancing at the screen first.

It was Christmas Eve. My phone had been ringing off the hook with invites to head to other player’s houses or Coach’s.

“Yeah?”

“Mr. Hall, sir, it’s Roger at the front desk. I have a young woman here to see you.”

I mean… could make for a great Christmas gift from one of my friends on the team, but not really my style.

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