Page 374 of Breaking the Pucking Rules
A giggle erupts and I finally manage to slip away.
“Come on, your girl is waiting,” I say, righting my Santa pajamas.
Behind me, the sheets rustle before Kodie stands to full height. Unable to stop myself, I spin around, getting my fill of him and his tented red Santa pants.
“Our girl.”
“W-what?” I stutter, my brain barely functioning.
It’s not fair; it’s too early, and he looks like that.
“Sutton. She’s our girl.”
My lips open and close, but I don’t find any words.
Kodie steps closer, wrapping his arms around my waist and holding my eyes as he gazes down at me.
“You’re incredible with her, and she loves you so much.”
My eyes burn and my nose itches. “I love her too.”
I didn’t know it was possible to love two people this much. But I do. Every day, I wake with my heart so full thanks to my new family.
We may not be related by blood, but we are in every other way that matters.
“You were the best gift either of us could have asked for,” he says, his voice deep and raspy.
“Kodie,” I breathe.
“I’m serious. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to us. I can’t imagine our life, our family without you.”
“I love you so much,” I say, resting my cheek against his chest and holding him tight.
“I love you too—but we’d better move before she comes back and starts threatening us.”
With a laugh, we drag ourselves apart, clean up, and then head downstairs.
Just like last year, there are gifts everywhere, almost all of them with Sutton’s name. But it isn’t the sight of them all that really takes my breath away. It’s the house. No, the home.
And it’s only made better by the two people who come wandering in with mugs of coffee in their hands.
“Thank you,” I say, taking one from Dad and immediately lift it to my lips for a sip.
With a free hand, Dad wraps his arm around my shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Care Bear.”
“Merry Christmas, Dad.”
Mom’s decorations are everywhere, and every time I look at them, I feel a little closer to her.
She may no longer be here with us, but I also know she never left, and she never will. She’s just as much a part of this new phase of my life, and I know she’s just as proud of me as Dad is.
“Oh wow, Peanut. You weren’t lying; you really have been good this year,” Kodie laughs as we join her.
“Can I start?” she asks eagerly.
“Of course you can.”
Kodie and I sit side by side in our matching pajamas with our fingers entwined while Dad and Kathleen get themselves comfortable on the couch as she unwraps gift after gift.
