Page 1 of The Winging It Holiday Special

1. (Canadian) Thanksgiving

THE DEKES’season started the Thursday after Canadian Thanksgiving, so Monday found Dante and Gabe letting themselves into Olie’s place for team dinner.

By rights they should’ve been hosting. Gabe was the captain. But Gabe also, after six years of Dante’s intense instruction, could just about manage mashed potatoes without burning the house down. Dante wasn’t doing a full turkey dinner with an incompetent sous chef, no matter how many potluck dishes his teammates brought. Instead of spending hours watching a crisping bird and juggling side dishes, he loaded a grocery cart with sweet potatoes, cubed and roasted them until their edges crisped up, and tossed them with parmesan and fresh parsley.

Then he sent Gabe to the SAQ for a metric shit ton of wine and beer—because this was Canada and even the shit tons were in metric.

“Oh good, you’re here,” Adele said as Gabe hefted the three aluminum dishes of sweet potatoes onto the top of the oven. Putting those hockey muscles to good use.

Dante usedhishockey muscles to bring the cooler with the beer out onto the back porch. Gabe wasn’t allowed to strain his shoulder. He’d just had surgery a year and a half ago, and Dante wanted him healthy for the whole season.

“Sounds like you need a hand,” Gabe commented to Adele, his voice floating through the open door.

Dante put the cooler down, opened it, and pulled the bottles of red wine from the top.

“Yes, please.”

When Dante slid the patio door closed behind him with his hip, two wine bottles in each hand, it was to find Adele thrusting Christian into Gabe’s arms.

Christian immediately attempted to stuff his chubby fist into Gabe’s mouth.

“I need an hour to remind myself I’m not actually physically attached to him,” Adele said. “Freedom. Until feeding time, at least.”

Christian blew an impressive spit bubble, and Gabe pretended to bite his fingers. What a goober. “Can do.”

Dante tore his gaze away to ask Adele, “What about me?”

She gestured to the wine, then the living room. “Why don’t you go pour?”

Dante saluted with the bottles. “Aye aye.”

By the time he finished filling glasses, Gabe had found a chair and Christian had found a disreputable stuffed animal to chew on. Dante frowned at it. “What is that thing?”

Gabe shrugged. “Whatever it is, it must be delicious.”

Snorting, Dante handed him a beer and collapsed to the floor at his feet with his own. He could’ve pulled over another chair, but that could’ve landed him in an argument about Bauer versus CCM, and he wanted no part of it.

Besides, with them both conveniently out of hearing range of anyone else and with Gabe trapped by the chubby kid in his lap, he had a perfect opportunity to bring up the elephant in the room. He leaned back against the armchair and Gabe’s legs. “So. How’re you holding up?”

There was a pointed, unnecessarily sarcastic pause. “On baby duty?” he said. “This guy’s no trouble.”

Dante rolled his eyes and turned to look over his shoulder at Gabe. “He’s teething.” He waved his right hand at the chew toy. “It’s early, though. Hopefully he won’t start screaming in thenext couple hours.” Christian was only five months, but Olie’s kidwouldbe an early developer.

“How do you know that?” Gabe sounded amazed, like he didn’t know Dante was the team’s favorite off-season babysitter or that he’d lived with Flash and Yvette and their kids for a year when they had a newborn.

“Uh, experience?” Gabe loved teasing Dante that he was the kids’ favorite because he was still a kid himself. Dante wasn’t fooled. Gabe tagged along on babysitting nights often enough, and he didn’t exactly look eager to offload Christian, potential time bomb or no. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you deking around the subject.”

Gabe broke his gaze. “What subject?”

“Your dad didn’t come for Thanksgiving.” Gabe was focusing on the baby as though determined to avoid his own emotions. Typical.

“It’s fine,” he said. “We had our dinner last weekend. You were there.”

Yes, they had, and yes, Dante was. All of which was immaterial, because Gabe hadn’t missed a holiday meal with his dad for a reason other than hockey since his mother left them. “Not all change is bad,corazón.”

Finally Gabe glanced up, his cheeks tinged with red—embarrassment, not anger. Well, of course Dante knew he hated change. Duh. “I know that.” He shifted Christian to his other side. “It’s just weird.”

“Oh, it’s definitely weird.” Dante paused for dramatic effect, then added, “That your dad waited this long to start dating again.”

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