“Not me.” She cocks her head. “Be careful what you wish for, Radman.”
“Oh, I’m not wishing for chaos,” I say with a faint smile. “I loved a quiet Christmas. Back then, Elaine and I would play cards and board games. My favorite was Trouble. Well, I shouldn’t say it was my favorite because I could never seem to pop a six and get out of home.” I laugh. “But it really was fun. We’d bake until the kitchen smelled like cinnamon for days. We’d make homemade gifts—ugly ones, sure—but they meant something. Those were good times.” My voice thins out, the warmth of the memory colliding with something colder, heavier. Old hurt, sharp as glass, presses against my ribs.
“But those days were shattered when Earl came into the picture,” she states quietly, as though reading my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I murmur softly.
“You never got that time back.”
“No.” I keep my eyes on the road. “We didn’t.”
“I’m sorry, Penn.”
“It’s okay,” I say automatically, though it isn’t—not really. But if I let myself sit in that ache too long, I’ll drown in it.
She shifts in her seat, her tone lighter now. “My house… let’s just say it was the chaos of the Griswolds without the squirrel.”
I let out a low chuckle. “I could probably rustle up a squirrel for you if you want.”
“Heck no,” she says, wrinkling her nose. Then her lips purse in thought. “Although, I wouldn’t mind giving Uncle Jack a good scare.”
My amusement dies. “Uncle Jack?”
Her gaze flicks to mine, almost defiant. “He’s been a bit handsy lately.”
A hot spike of anger shoots through me, and my grip tightens on the wheel. “He better not be handsy with you.”
She waves it off. “I can handle him.”
I don’t like the way she says that. Like she’s had to handle things before. “Do you do things to his coffee too?”
That earns a burst of laughter from her. “I think you’re getting to know me too well.”
“I’m never drinking your coffee again,” I warn, though a smile tugs at my mouth.
“Don’t worry, you’re safe.” Her gaze sharpens in mock warning. “As long as you stay on my good side.”
“Noted,” I say with a nod full of assurance, because I’d never do anything to upset this woman. Not intentionally, anyway.
A song drifts through the speakers, the familiar chords filling the space between us. She turns it up and hums along, her voice low and warm. I don’t want to break the moment, but then she glances at me, hesitant, and I brace myself, knowing what she’s going to ask.
“Do you… ever hear from your parents?”
Even though I knew it was coming, the question still hits me like a cold wind. My hands lock on the steering wheel.
“I’m sorry,” she blurts out quickly. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories. You just mentioned a quiet Christmas, and I wondered… I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I keep my eyes on the snowy road ahead. “I’m not upset with you, Jay.” I take a breath, then another, searching for the words. “I understand now that my mother gave me to her older sister because she was young, and it was the right thing to do.”
Her voice softens, like she’s afraid to touch the wrong nerve. “But that wasn’t easy for you.”
Wow. She reads me better than anyone ever has. Maybe it’s because I usually keep the gates shut tight—quiet, controlled, making it clear that my business is my business. But it’s more than that. I’ve built this wall for so long I don’t even notice it anymore.
Sure, on the ice I can be a team player. I can play my role, throw my weight, take hits for the guys. But off the ice? I’m not always confident that people actually want me around.
Why would they, when you snarl at them half the time, dude?
Yeah… true.