Page 43 of Holiday Unscripted
“How did she even put the wax strips on your legs without you waking up?” I ask him as we walk back toward the hall and the noise.
“She’s like one of those cat burglars that you don’t hear or see until it happens. I went to bed and thought I felt something, but I was too dead asleep to open my eyes, and when I did in the morning, she had taken my mother’s wax strips and placed six of them on my legs. Six.”
“Oh, I remember,” I tell him, “I was the one who had to pry them off of you, don’t forget.”
“You and fucking Joshua did it with huge smiles on your faces.” He pushes my shoulder, and when I walk into the room, my eyes roam the room looking for her.
She’s next to Evie as the two of them are working on Evie’s house. The mess that was my house and then her house is now cleaned up. “You can help with mine,” Jack offers, “that way if I lose, I can just blame you.” He slaps my shoulder and walks around me as I watch Elizabeth’s face full of concentration as she does the roof.
“We come in peace,” Jack announces, holding up his hands, “and so does he.”
“You”—Evie points to me—“keep your mitts on that side of the table.”
“It was an accident,” I again try to defend myself.
“I’ll show you an accident,” Elizabeth mumbles, her eyes never looking up from what she is doing.
The end of the hour comes very quickly, and when I step away, I look over at Elizabeth and Evie’s and then at our house. “Dude.” I lean in to Jack.
“Yeah, we’re not winning this,” he agrees with me.
“That judge needs to get his eyes checked,” Elizabeth hisses out as we walk out of the venue and head toward my truck. “How the fuck did we come in second place?”
I look over at her. “She was an eight-year-old little girl.”
She rolls her eyes. “Exactly, her gingerbread house was shit and everyone knew it.” She looks over at me. “Her house looked like it was covered in blobs of icing.”
“I believe she called it a snowball fight,” I correct her.
“Whatever.” She opens her side of the truck. “She probably paid off the judge.”
“He was the cook for the caterer,” I point out to her.
“Wow,” she deadpans, “it’s like you didn’t even want to win.”
I chuckle as I get into the cab of the truck and start it. “If it’s any consolation”—I look over at her—“yours was way better than that eight-year-old’s.”
“I know,” she replies.
“I also think you handled it with grace and dignity. The parents were not at all offended when you mumbled out that it was rigged.”
“I think it was rigged. Did you see the way she smirked at me?” She turns her back to the truck door. “She knew exactly what she was doing.” She reaches for the seat belt. “I think she even made her lower lip quiver.”
I make my way over the arena, pulling into the parking lot and then grabbing my bag out of the back seat. “I didn’t bring my skates,” she says as I toss my bag over my shoulder.
“Pretty sure your dad has everything you need,” I assure as we walk in, and she looks around to see all the changes they made over the years. The walls are now covered with pictures from everyone in the family who has practiced here and has made their way into the NHL.
The first one on the side is of Cooper Stone, who came here one year to rehab and fell head over heels in love with the owner, Parker. Matthew was fifteen and Allison was five. Needless to say, the minute Cooper came into their lives, their father started retreating, and coming around for visits. He even stopped taking Allison when it was his week to get her. Matthew had long since given up on him, but Allison was ten years younger than him. You would never know if you saw them together that they weren’t his kids. Especially Matthew who, from what everyone says, is a caveman when it comes to his wife. He apparently learned it all from Cooper.
“Dad,” she says once she sees Zack walking out of one of the dressing rooms. Jack, Joshua, and I have spent more time here than we did at home when we were growing up. Jack had what it took to make it to the NHL, but when it came down to it, he wanted to follow in Denise’s footsteps and help people, instead of becoming a doctor, he focused on medical research. Joshua had a taste of it, but now he’s working behind the scenes as a sports analyst. “Where are my things?”
“In the locker room where they always are.” She nods at him and I follow her and get into my skates beside her. She heads out to the ice before me, grabbing her helmet and gloves.
She spent her younger years playing hockey, stopping when she turned thirteen and decided she hated it. But Zack still made her come to the rink every single Saturday and Sunday and help the younger kids learn how to skate. She grabs a hockey stick off the side of the wall, making sure she likes it, turning it to the side, and then skates out onto the ice. She goes in a circle before skating to the puck and moving her stick side to side.
People start to trickle on the ice as I grab my own stick and skate onto the ice. I’m gliding on when the puck hits my skate. “Oops.” I look over to see her.
“What is your problem?” I ask her and she shrugs and looks at me.
