Dad Bod Under the Mistletoe (Dad Bod Christmas #2)

8. Mack

eight

Mack

T urns out, confessing all my feelings in one fell swoop was maybe a tad too much.

After our chat, Cassie was overwhelmed. She headed home, promising to drive safely through the rain, and I was left in my makeshift star-studded bedroom to do more navel-gazing.

Maybe I should’ve eased into explaining myself. Maybe I shouldn’t have invited her in or let her see just how much I’ve oriented my entire life here to be with her. I knew it was a gamble, but honestly? I don’t care.

I left it all out there for her. She’ll have to decide how she feels, but at least now she knows that my love for her is strong. It’s real.

I’ve carried it for years, and I won’t push her to make any rash choices.

I’ll just be here, a steady, sturdy force of love, ready and waiting for whenever she’s ready to accept it.

Accept me.

I found my peace with my life, and I want to offer the same to my princess.

Friday morning, we’re thrown right back into the fray with the festive fundraiser tasks. The outdoor rink has held up, and the rain helped the ice surface form faster than they’d originally hoped, so Willow is breathing a little easier. The vendors are already setting up their booths in advance of tomorrow’s event, and the day passes in a dry, gray blur.

The only time I cross paths with Cassie is when the entire squad gathers by the enormous Santa’s grotto setup for a final run-through of events.

“Call time tomorrow is eight a.m., okay? Don’t be late!” Willow calls out. “I’m going to need our Mr. and Mrs. Claus to be ready to greet children before the families from the children’s hospital arrive for their preview time. Presents for each child are already wrapped and ready for Elf Number One to pass out. Cass, you’ll also need to be in costume by then.”

“Got it!” She shakes the end of her elf hat so a jingly bell rings out.

Willow smiles, looking a lot less stressed than she had been earlier in the week. “The 3-on-3 showcase will take place after Santa’s grotto closes for a late lunch break at four, and we’re all set with attending players?”

“A dozen alumni will be suited up and ready to go,” I announce. “And we’ve arranged for their jerseys to be auctioned off as part of the fundraising efforts.”

“Half the prospects arrived this morning, safe and sound,” Cassie adds. “The other half are already on the bus and will be here late this evening. They’ve all agreed to fill-in tomorrow morning as well.”

“Excellent!” Willow says, clapping her hands together.

Hilarie springs up, waving a hand in the air. “I just wanted to thank everyone for pitching in to help make sure we’re still delivering a fun, family event for the local community. It may not be exactly what we hoped to deliver, but we’ve done the best we can to infuse a little holiday magic in this event for the kids and our community. It wouldn’t have been possible without you. As a little thank you, we’ve set up a snack station here with drinks and baked goods provided by our catering team. Please enjoy a treat and be sure to get some rest. Tomorrow’s a big day!”

I start to make my way to the table, but almost trip over Naya as she pops up next to me with her arms crossed and brow furrowed.

“Alright, Mack T. I need to know what your intentions are with my sister.” Then she slips her phone out of her back pocket, takes a quick picture and stuns me with the flash. “Act like this is for social, or Cassie will get suspicious and I’ll have no choice but to sic Diego on you. Or Dad. Who are you more afraid of?”

“I — what?” I look over to Cassie as she meanders around the table, gathering cookies on a plate. “My intention is to give her everything she wants, needs, and deserves.”

“Yeah? And what’s that? Another bro who makes her feel shit for being the free spirited goddess that she is?”

I quirk a brow at her. “I’m not a ‘bro’ and I have zero desire to make her feel shit about herself. Why? Did she say something?”

“No. Nothing.” Naya purses her lips. “That’s what’s weird, you see? My sister is open AF. She talks about everything and everyone. She dishes details, whether I want them or not. I know everything about the ups and down of her life, but on the subject of you? She’s got nothing to say. Not a blip. She just turns up at my place last night, babbling about men who go big and buy dream homes. Then she wouldn’t elaborate. She just curled up on my couch with a bottle of Baileys and one of our childhood camp blankets. Weird, right?”

My heart lurches.

Fuck.

“Should I have grand gestured less?” I ask, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Absolutely not.”

I blink. “No?”

“Nope.” Naya takes another picture and I see spots on the edges of my vision. “If you want to make my sister’s crazy, big-ass, over-the-top dreams come true… well, no one’s stopping you. I’m saying if you truly love her? Go bigger. And that’s all I’m gonna say.”

Then she smiles, snaps one last photo, and dances off.

On Saturday morning, I sit in the Scorpions parking lot for twenty minutes, sweating despite the chill. The winter sun hangs in the sky and the morning cloud cover from the Pacific has already burned off. Judging by the clear blue of the sky, it looks like the weather has turned in our favor.

But my nerves are frayed as I stare down at my exposed prosthesis. In the three years since I lost my leg after it was crushed in that crash, I’ve never publicly discussed or appeared with my disability.

It’s not that I’m ashamed of it. I just found it difficult to talk about the accident, remembering the trauma and all the emotions I went through as I tackled one of the most challenging periods of my life that irrevocably altered my life’s course. I didn’t want to invite further conversation or questions.

And here, I’m about to show up as my full self. Be as fearless as the woman I love because I want her to see that I’m an evolved, grown-up version of the boy she’d met at hockey camp.

So I rise, step out of my car and grab my gear from the trunk. As I pass a long line of patiently waiting people on my way to the fake snow-encrusted entrance welcoming everyone to the Soltero Beach Festive Market, a few heads swivel. Most don’t.

A few whispers follow in my wake, but not as many as I would’ve feared.

And when I catch snippets of the conversation, I can’t stop my mouth from curving upward.

“Look, Daddy,” one young Asian girl whisper-shouts from her wheelchair, craning her neck and waving an arm to catch her father’s attention. “He’s got a leg made for hockey! I want one! Is he with the team?”

“I think he used to be, sweetheart. Pretty sure he was drafted some years back. Maybe he’ll sign your puck?”

“Today, I’m filling in as Elf Number Two, so you can find me by Santa’s grotto and I’ll sign whatever you want,” I call out. “And if you come by the rink later this afternoon, you can see this leg in action.”

She bounces in her chair, clapping. “Cool!”

“Mack T!”

I turn to see Scorpions alumni rocking up hauling their gear and wearing their custom made event jerseys. Excitement ripples through the crowd waiting to enter as ten other easily recognizable old school players stride in behind Hall of Famer Antonio "Full Tilt Tony" De La Cruz as he fist bumps and high fives fans all along the way.

“Mr. De La Cruz, I’m so glad you could make it.”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he says, dropping his gaze to the modified prosthesis I hold in one hand. “It’ll be good to see you on the ice again, Mack. I look forward to seeing whether age can beat beauty out on the ice.”

“So long as I can keep my legs under me, I think I might be able to give you a run for your money.”

He wags his finger in my face as he looks out at the fans. “Pretty sure I’m the beauty.”

I laugh, turning to follow him into the winter wonderland when my phone beeps. Then I glance down to see that all my hard work this week is coming together as I’d hoped.

Go bigger, indeed.