Dallas Christmas by RJ Scott

Author:RJ Scott [Scott, RJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-78564-142-8
Publisher: Love Lane Books Limited

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Somehow, we made it through Christmas afternoon, and not one video game was played. We ate all the Christmas cookies that Connor’s granny had sent him a week back, watched The Grinch and Home Alone. I lost every hand of Uno, entered into a heated debate about football, and ate my entire body weight from Lee’s stack of Cheetos. Through all of it, I knew Archie was checking on me every so often. I could feel the heaviness of his stare on me. But it was a good Christmas, and while not as cold as I wanted or with any snow or indeed my family, I found myself smiling for most of the day.

Mase got a call just before ten, from the same girl whom he’d been texting all day, and from the way he blushed scarlet, I knew it had to be a phone-sex booty call, underlined by the fact he left for his room in a rush. I didn’t imagine we’d see him again tonight. When Lee vanished as well, the three of us left moved to sit by the pool, the patio heaters taking the edge off the night’s chill, and hot chocolate underlining what had been a good day. We talked about everything and anything, and things only began to go wrong when Connor started to talk about his girl back home.

“So she said that it was too far,” he mused into his drink. “We’ve been dating since I was fifteen, you know, before the draft, before the money. Not that I earn what you do, Logan, but still, it’s steady.”

I nodded, even though I wanted to yell at him that our jobs were only as steady as the next game or trade deadline or injury. I didn’t say any of it, because I’m not The Grinch, and Connor didn’t need to be told about the reality of playing professional hockey. If a veteran like me had told the young me that a career in hockey might not last, I would have ignored it all. Connor had drunk quite a bit earlier, mulled wine that Mase had made from ingredients he’d found in the kitchen. I suspected that it was merely hot wine because Connor was sleepy, his words a little slurred, and he’d spilled hot chocolate down his shirt. He wasn’t anywhere near drunk enough for me to pull the protective big brother act, demanding he treated his body like a temple and warning him that we were athletes. He’d only drunk enough to make him clumsy and to loosen his tongue.

“I’ve loved Amelie since I was twelve, you know?” He wasn’t looking for an answer, and he forged ahead. “I know for sure she was with me for who I am. I mean, not for the hockey or fame or money, or whatever else the game brings with it. I can get sex when I want, anywhere. You know what that’s like, Logan, right? But I don’t want sex with random girls; I want Amelie.

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