Page 47

After spilling my guts to my parents, we continue talking about everything for another hour.

I’m finally able to breathe for the first time in years.

It feels so good to be able to sit here with them and talk about my life in Green Bay and their lives here in Michigan.

The emotions of the day have me exhausted by the time lunch rolls around.

So after eating some grilled cheese and tomato soup with my parents, I find my way back into my bed for a nap.

It’s almost four in the afternoon when I stumble out of my childhood bedroom.

I left my phone downstairs to charge and also so I wouldn’t obsessively check it hoping for a text from Lincoln.

I’m not sure when I became so obsessed and desperate to hear from him, but I’m not going to think too long about that.

I grab my phone off the counter and unhook it from the charger.

The screen lights up and I’m surprised to see that I have no missed calls or messages.

Disappointed, I make my way into the living room and find my parents watching Elf .

Christmas has always been my favorite time of the year.

This time of year has only gotten better now that Lincoln’s green eyes and woodsy cologne both remind me of the season.

Pushing thoughts of him aside, I crawl onto the couch next to my parents and distract myself with Buddy the Elf.

Buddy just finished redecorating the entire toy store when there’s a knock on our front door.

I look over at my parents.

“Are you expecting anybody today?”

They both shake their heads, and I let them know I’ll go see who it is.

Not even bothering to look through the peephole I open the door, and my entire world stands still.

Lincoln Scott is standing on my porch.

“Hey, beautiful.” That damn smile of his almost brings me to my knees.

And then I launch myself into his arms.

He falls back a step, but then centers himself before sliding his hands under my ass and lifting me up off the ground.

Apparently we’re the type of people who love a reunion because we both hold each other as tight as we can.

I pick my head up off his shoulder to look at him and his eyes drop to my lips.

That’s enough of an invitation for me, so I dive in and devour his mouth with mine.

A voice clearing behind me has us breaking our kiss and me unwrapping my legs from his waist.

He sets me down on the ground and wipes his mouth, as if he can wash away the embarrassment of being caught making out by my father.

“I just came to check who’s here. You’ve been gone for a few minutes and we’ve been calling for you.”

Doing my best to hide a laugh behind my hands—and absolutely failing, I might add—I step to the side to introduce Lincoln.

“Dad, this is Lincoln.”

Lincoln and Dad chuckle at my lame introduction.

My dad’s hands are in the front pockets of his jeans as he rocks back on his heels.

“Yeah, we’ve met. Nice to see you again, Lincoln.”

He removes his right hand from his pocket and reaches forward.

My two favorite men shake hands and then Lincoln follows us into our house .

Holy shit.

Lincoln is in my house!

What is he even doing here?

I don’t have time to ask because after he removes his boots, we make our way into the living room to say hi to my mom.

They all exchange pleasantries and my parents ask how the drive was.

Lincoln spends a couple minutes answering their questions, and I have to admit, it’s kind of nice bringing both of my worlds together.

There’s a comfort between the four of us that has me hopeful for the future.

After a few minutes of catching up, my dad puts my mom back in her chair and they excuse themselves to the kitchen.

Once I know my parents are far enough away that they can’t hear me, I shove Lincoln in the shoulder and whisper-hiss, “What the hell are you doing here?”

He grabs my hand and pulls my body into his.

He holds me for a few seconds then takes a step back.

Twirling my hair in his finger, he looks at me and says, “I wanted to surprise you. I also wanted to give you your gift. Wait here.”

I stand shell-shocked as he quickly puts his boots back on and runs out to his car.

Once he’s back in, he hands over a terribly wrapped box covered with snowmen.

“But I didn’t get you anything. I didn’t know we were doing gifts.”

A devastating smile stretches across his face.

“I’m not expecting anything in return. Just open it.”

Like a little kid on Christmas, I tear open the wrapping paper with urgency.

Tossing it to the ground, I lift the top of the white box and the sight brings tears to my eyes.

I grab the jersey, abandoning the box to the floor and turn it around to see montgomery stretched across the back with the number twelve under it.

“Lincoln…” It comes out barely above a whisper because I’m at a loss for words.

He scratches the back of his neck nervously.

“Do you like it? ”

“Do I like it?” I throw my arms around him and he holds me in his arms.

“I love it.”

Lincoln strokes my hair once before kissing the top of my head.

“Good. When I saw that little girl wearing it at one of our games, I knew you should have your own.” He releases me and looks over his shoulder before asking, “How did things go with your mom?”

This man.

My heart beats a million miles a minute, and I do my best to pretend like he’s not totally rocking my world by being here.

Grabbing his hand, I pull him down to sit on the couch with me.

“Things went well. Actually, they went great. I talked to my mom about everything and then my dad joined in. After a couple hours and many tears, I feel like I can finally move on from it all.”

Lincoln wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me toward him.

He plants a gentle kiss on the side of my head, and I lean into him even more.

Feeling absolutely content in his arms, I stay exactly where I am and ask him how his drive home went with Katie.

He tells me about the ridiculous songs Katie made him listen to on the drive over.

I can’t help but laugh when I picture him sitting there listening to Spice Girls.

Then he finally tells me what made Katie show up at his house the other day.

Apparently she’s not feeling fulfilled with her job as a telehealth therapist anymore.

She loves what she does, but she feels like something is missing.

I don’t know what it’s like to feel unfulfilled in your job, but I do know what it feels like to feel like something is missing.

Once Lincoln is finished telling me all about his cousin, I turn my head to look at him.

“So what is she going to do?”

Lincoln’s thumb is slowly rubbing my shoulder; the simple movement is sending shivers down my spine.

I do my best to focus on our conversation, but can’t help but wish his hands and fingers were elsewhere.

Crossing my legs, I try to push down the sensation that is building between them.

Lincoln looks down at me and smirks, fully aware of the effect his touch has on my body.

“I’m not sure what she’s going to do. She’s always loved sports and we talked about her maybe getting a job with a team. She seemed pretty excited when I told her that a lot of teams and colleges are hiring therapists to be on their staff now. I told her all about the NHL’s Player Assistance Program. She had no idea there’s a program within the league that helps players deal with mental health, substance abuse, and other issues. I think she might look to see if there’s any openings there or with a team in the league.”

My body springs upward and I turn to look at Lincoln.

“Oh my god, Lincoln. Isn’t our team therapist going on maternity leave next month?”

Lincoln looks dumbfounded for a moment and then leaps into action.

He grabs his phone out of his pocket and starts vigorously typing on his phone.

I hear the sound that signifies he just sent an email, and then he sets his phone face down on the arm rest of the couch.

Before I can react, my face is in his hands and he’s kissing me senseless.

Ending it all too soon, he pulls back and smiles at me.

“You’re a genius, Montgomery.”

“Are you just now figuring this out, Scott?”

My sarcastic remark earns me a hair pull.

It should probably piss me off, but it has me thinking about him taking me from behind with my hair wrapped around his fist.

Heat replaces the mischief in his eyes and I curse silently to myself, wishing we were anywhere else but my parents’ house.

The reminder that my parents are in the next room is like a bucket of ice water being dumped on my head.

All previous thoughts of us together are immediately washed out.

Lincoln’s eyes move from my face to over my shoulder.

I glance behind me and see my dad heading our way.

“I don’t mean to interrupt. Actually, that’s exactly what I mean to do. ”

Lincoln laughs at the same time I groan.

I throw my head back against the couch to create some distance between Lincoln and me.

“What is it, father?”

Lincoln does his best to hide a snort and my dad fails at hiding his own.

“Pulling out the father card means I’m doing my job. I’m just wondering if Lincoln wants to stay for dinner. I know it’s Christmas Eve, but he’s more than welcome to join us.”

I turn to look at Lincoln, biting my bottom lip, hoping he doesn’t have plans tonight.

Selfish?

Probably.

But the thought of spending Christmas Eve with him makes me feel all warm and gooey inside.

I shrug my shoulders at him.

“You have plans?”

Not breaking eye contact for even a second, he threads his fingers through mine.

“I’m looking at ’em.”

As soon as we got to my aunt and uncle’s house, I knew I needed to see Ellie.

I said my hellos, took a quick shower, and was back in my cousin’s car heading over here before I even had a plan.

The entire drive back to Michigan I was thinking about her.

She mentioned she had planned to talk to her mom, and more than anything I wanted to be there to support her.

The moment she opened that front door, I knew I made the right decision in coming here.

We just finished up a delicious Christmas Eve dinner and it was less awkward than I was expecting.

We talked about the season and our upcoming game against Detroit.

Her parents asked me about my aunt, uncle, and cousin.

Apparently, Ellie’s dad and my uncle went to high school together.

I don’t know how I didn’t know that.

Or maybe I did know at one point and I chose to block that fact out along with many other things from my childhood.

Either way, it was really nice of them to ask about my family and not have to answer questions about my parents.

Ellie is washing dishes and her mom is helping her load the dishwasher, which leaves me alone at the dining room table with her dad.

This may be more awkward than crashing their Christmas Eve dinner.

All of a sudden I’m anxious.

I’m not sure if Ellie told her parents about us.

She still doesn’t know I vaguely told Katie either.

We haven’t really had the chance to talk alone since I got here.

My knee starts bouncing up and down while my fingers drum on top of the table.

Her dad seems to sense the nervous energy bouncing off me and does his best to break the tension.

“How about a drink, Lincoln?” He nods his head toward the bar cart that sits on the far wall of the dining room.

I blow out a breath.

“I’d love a whiskey.”

He stands from his chair and makes his way to the bar cart.

Grabbing two glasses from a lower shelf, he places them on top of the cart before uncorking a bottle of Blanton’s.

He pours us each a glass, neat.

The man has good taste, I’ll give him that.

Once he makes his way back to the table, I do my best to remember my manners and stand so I can take my glass.

“Thanks, Mr. Montgomery.”

“Sit down, sit down. And none of that Mr. Montgomery stuff. That’s my father. Call me Jack.”

I take my glass from him and nod.

“Of course. Thanks, Jack.”

We sit there, silently sipping our whiskey.

I’m not sure what to say or do.

The only thing I know about Ellie’s father is that he was one of the best players in the NHL when I was a kid.

He was fast, had the smoothest hands, and had one of the best shots in the league.

I secretly wanted to be him when I grew up, a fact I had to keep hidden from everyone once Ellie and I started playing against each other.

The only conversation starter I can think of is asking for his autograph, and I’m definitely not about to do that.

Thankfully, he breaks the silence before I can embarrass myself.

“The team looks impressive this year. I can’t say that I’m surprised, though. You’ve made quite the name for yourself the past few years. Hell, winning back-to-back Stanley Cups with Boston after only your second year as assistant coach is quite the resume. You’ve done good, kid.”

Emotion gets caught in my throat and I cough, trying to clear it away.

The fact that this NHL Hall of Famer has followed my career in any capacity has me on cloud nine.

Neither of my parents have ever bothered to reach out, not that I’d want them to.

I don’t know if they even know what I’ve done with my life, how far I’ve made it in spite of them.

I set my glass down on the table and lean onto my forearms.

“Thank you, Jack. That means…more than I care to admit coming from you. Thank you.”

Jack sets his glass down and mirrors my position, leaning his forearms on the table as well.

“You deserve to be told what a great man you’ve become. Many others would’ve given up after a career-ending injury, but you didn’t. You refused to stay down, fought to get back up, and followed a new dream. You proved everyone wrong and became the youngest head coach in NHL history. What you’ve done is amazing, son. And from everything I’ve heard about you from my daughter, I’m not the only one who notices. You’re a good man, Lincoln.”

I look over his shoulder to see Ellie staring at us from the kitchen.

I’m not sure if she can hear our conversation, but from the smile on her face, I think she can.

She turns back around and continues her own conversation with her mom and I move my eyes back to Jack.

“Thank you, Jack. I’m not sure I deserve all that praise but thank you. Your daughter is remarkable, and if it wasn't for her, our team wouldn’t be where it is today. I wouldn’t be where I am either. Having her next to me behind the bench, she’s made me a better coach. Having her in my life…well, she’s made me a better man.”

Jack picks up his glass off the table and raises it toward me.

“To the Bobcats. And to you and Ellie. May you both keep proving the world wrong.”

I pick my glass up and clink it with his. I’m about to put it to my lips when his voice stops my movements. “One other thing, Lincoln. Don’t you dare do anything to hurt my baby girl.”

I bring my glass to my lips and gulp down the rest of my whiskey, holding his eye contact as I do. Setting my glass down on the table, I give him a smile.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”