Page 111 of Offside for Christmas
"It's perfect." And it was—the corners were a little uneven, the tape slightly crooked, but the effort was there.
She unwrapped it carefully and found a leather-bound journal, simple and elegant, with "Physical Therapy Notes & Other Adventures" embossed on the cover in gold letters.
"Cole," she breathed.
"Open it," he said quietly.
On the first page, in his neat handwriting:
For all the stories we're going to write together. Starting with ours. - Cole
Ellie's eyes filled with tears.
"Your turn," she managed, handing him her gift.
Cole unwrapped it more carefully than she'd expected. Inside was a framed photograph—one Sophie had taken at the kids' skating event at the festival. Cole was on the ice, surrounded by kids, all of them looking up at him like he hung the moon. His face was lit up with genuine joy.
Below the photo, Ellie had written in careful script:
Home isn't a place. It's the people you choose and who choose you back.
Cole stared at the photo for a long moment, and when he looked up, his eyes were suspiciously shiny.
"Are they crying?" Ryan stage-whispered from across the room. "They're totally crying."
"Shut up, Ryan," Sophie said. "It's sweet."
"I'm not crying," Ellie said. "YOU'RE crying."
"I can literally see tears on your face, cousin," Ryan continued.
"It's allergies!"
The room dissolved into laughter, and Ellie found herself pulled into Cole's arms, both of them laughing and maybe crying a little, surrounded by family and friends and love.
This was home.
Later, walking to Cole's truck in the cold night air, their breath making clouds in front of them, Cole pulled Ellie close.
"So," he said. "Tomorrow. What are we doing?"
“I don’t know.”
"I have an idea. But it's a surprise."
Ellie groaned. "I don't like surprises."
"You'll like this one."
"How do you know?"
"Because I know you." He kissed her forehead. "Trust me?"
"Always."
"Good. Pick you up at ten?"
"Make it nine." Ellie looked up at him, this man who'd come into her life grumpy and closed-off and was now standing in her parents' driveway on Christmas Eve, looking at her like she was everything. "I don't want to waste a minute."
