It’s Mother-Pucking Christmas!

12. Ryder

12

RYDER

E ven when I did meet and greets or signed autographs after a big game, I’d never felt more like a specimen on display than at Dakota’s family holiday party.

I wasn’t even spending time with her. Dakota was constantly being interrupted. She would come by, stroke my head, grab my chin playfully, run her thumb over my mouth, tell me I was adorable, or ask me if I wanted another drink. I let her bring me beer after beer just to keep seeing her. Now I was drunker than I’d been in a long time.

It didn’t take the anxious edge off.

Those moments when she touched me were what I lived for.

I wasn’t sure if I should offer to help. I longed to do something other than take the ugly stares.

Almost worse was the forced cheeriness of her mother and a couple of her aunts, who would come by and loudly ask me how I was and if I was having a good time and wasn’t it nice Dakota finally had a boyfriend and that just because she’d lost her virginity at fifteen didn’t mean that she wasn’t relationship material.

“Mom, stop it!” Dakota raced out into the snowy backyard to chase her mom away from me.

“I think any man would be lucky to be with your daughter, ma’am,” I said to Barbara, her mother, who everyone seemed to call Babs.

“Any man but an Icebreaker,” one of Dakota’s multitude of uncles hollered.

“I just never thought Dakota would be with a professional athlete,” one of her female cousins, Bella, I think, drawled.

“I’m not that kind of athlete,” I said hurriedly.

“You sure drink like one,” Dakota’s Aunt Stacy teased.

I shoved my beer bottle away from me.

“These are all my real teeth, and I’m not a mooch. And I don’t use drugs. I invest my money and don’t spend frivolously,” I rattled off.

Dakota’s dad scowled at me.

“The only qualification I care about is your dick size,” Dakota said loudly.

I inhaled a few snowflakes.

“So he has money and a big dick,” her cousin Violet purred. “You want to try sleeping with a woman who waxes her pussy, not whatever Clan of the Cave Bear shit Dakota’s got going on?”

“No! No one is sleeping with the enemy traitor amongst us!” one of Dakota’s uncles drunkenly exclaimed.

The Arctic Avengers fight song broke out.

“Don’t pay them any mind,” Violet said, rubbing her hands over my shoulders. “They’re just jealous because a real man is making them look small and insignificant with his muscular masculine presence.”

I jumped as her hands went much lower than I thought anyone’s should be when they were in full view of their parents and other elderly family members.

“Don’t fucking touch him!” Dakota slapped her cousin. Not like a fun, playful slap but like a start-a-bar-fight slap.

I had dreamed, fantasized, longed to be part of a big family—the familiar joking, the hugging, the love. Maybe spontaneous dancing and singing.

This was nothing like I’d ever imagined.

Dakota’s cousin slapped her back. “Cunt!”

Then the two women were rolling around in the snow in the backyard while their relatives chanted, “Fight! Fight!” and they traded blows crazier than anything I’d seen on the ice.

Dakota’s mom was screaming and cursing at them to “Fucking stop it! Stop fighting! I swear to fucking god, Mark, get your fucking daughter!” One of the aunts ran out with a broom and whacked at the two women.

“You see!” Dakota’s dad hollered as his daughter and niece screamed at each other as they fought in the snow. “Do you see the kind of chaos you brought into this family, Dakota?”

“This isn’t on Ryder!” Granny Murray yelled. “Last weekend, you took a piss off Cindy’s porch, Mark, and started a three-hour brawl. The fire department was called.”

“Stop embarrassing me in front of company!” Dakota’s mom dumped an entire pitcher of beer out over the two women.

Sputtering, they were hauled apart. With blood running down her nose, Dakota was still screaming, “Fuck you, you fucking fuckheaded fucking man-stealing bitch! I know you’re out there hanging around the locker room. Don’t even fucking look at him!”

“Ryder doesn’t deserve you! Go back to Manhattan and fuck those slimy salamander belly-looking motherfucking finance bros!” Violet screeched and swiped her long nails at Dakota.

“Get up. Go change your clothes.” Their mothers chastised them and shoved their daughters inside the house.

Drama ended, the other family members wandered off.

I sat there stunned, my ears ringing. Someone shoved a plate heaping with turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans in front of me. I stared at it, shocked.

The pugs on the bench next to me begged for treats while I wondered what the best way to exit the party would be because I was not staying there anymore. I was crushed. My dreams for a big family? Done for. Dead. I wasn’t made to be in a family, that’s what it was. I just wasn’t family material. Small, big—didn’t matter. I was going to be alone forever.

The pugs started to yip excitedly. A shadow fell over the plate, then the table creaked as a man all in black sat in front of me, a black skullcap low on his head. Silvery gray eyes regarded me.

“You here to yell at me about how the Icebreakers suck?” I asked Hudson as he shoveled food in his mouth.

He took a swig of his beer. “I don’t do teams. It’s fucking bullshit. If you can’t play hockey, you’re on my shit list. Full stop. But”—his mouth quirked—“you can play, so I like you.”

I stabbed at a piece of turkey while the pugs tried to climb on me to get to Hudson.

“Sit,” he ordered the dogs.

They sat next to me, licking their noses.

“I gotta say I didn’t expect to see you here.” Hudson cut off another piece of turkey.

“I won’t be for long. This is…” I trailed off.

“Pure chaos?” He sipped the beer. “No siblings, I take it?”

I shook my head.

“I have five. Some of the worst human beings you will ever meet.” Hudson’s mouth quirked.

“Is it always like this?” I asked helplessly, feeling the angry glares.

“Wait until they really start drinking.” Hudson scooted my beer back to me.

I picked at my food.

“You don’t like turkey? I’m sure we can scrounge something else up.”

“No, just… They hate me,” I said desperately. “Is there a back exit or anything? I’m just gonna go. Tell Dakota thanks, I guess.”

“Oh?” A slow smile, that might be uncharitably described as evil, spread on Hudson’s face.

“Don’t take it personally, son. They mean well.” He raised his voice. “They’re just a little slow. As soon as they figure out that whoever has you on their team for the family Christmas hockey game will dominate from now until eternity, they’ll realize that you’re the best thing that ever happened to this family.”

The angry muttering in the yard had gone dead silent.

“And,” Hudson said, smiling around the bottle, “spoiler alert, but you’re going to be on my team.”

“No!” one of Dakota’s cousins yelped.

Shouts of “That’s not fair!” and “He’s on team Frosty!” echoed around me as I was mobbed by Dakota’s family.

“I mean look at the shoulders on this man.”

“I knew I liked him,” Dakota’s dad declared. “The minute I saw him I said, ‘I like that guy!’ I mean, look at him. Look at this guy.” Mark rubbed my shoulders.

“Stop that!” His brother shoved him. “You’re going to tear something. This is a piece of Swiss engineering. Treat it with some respect.”

“You want a new plate?” Uncle Bic asked. “Ryder wants a new plate. This is cold. Who’s giving this man cold food. For shame!”

“A microwave!” Cousin Bobby ran out with an appliance in his arms then thumped it down on the table, a little kid trailing behind him with an extension cord.

“The hell is this?” his dad demanded.

“Let me nuke that for you.” The plate was shoved in the microwave.

“What is this, Soviet Russia? Give the man some fresh food. I thought this was the United goddam States of America!” another uncle railed.

“Dakota, don’t give the man cold food. My god!” her dad yelled at her when she walked out, stunned, wearing a tight green sweater that was almost enough to make me drop an ‘Oh heck.’ “I thought I raised my fucking daughter better than that.”

Hudson made a face like “See?”

“Let me get you a fresh plate.”

“Lasagna! We have some lasagna left. You like pasta? Homemade!” one of Dakota’s cousins offered.

“The man doesn’t want carbs!” his father shouted at him.

“Beer? Have a beer. It’s a local IPA.”

“No carbs!” Uncle Nate barked. “What part of no carbs do you people not understand?”

“You shouldn’t drink all that beer.”

“A whiskey.”

“Top-shelf stuff.”

“So I hope Dakota has been treating you well. Blow jobs at will, et cetera, et cetera,” Dakota’s brother Nico said as he sat down next to me.

“Dakota, don’t drive him off,” her other brother demanded. “Ryder, just put up with her ’til Christmas, m’kay?”

“Not a problem.” I looked at Dakota, a slow smile spreading over my face.

Her cheeks went red.

I couldn’t stop smiling.

Dakota’s brother shook my hand. “The man of the hour.”

“He’s going to give Hudson a run for his money,” one of Dakota’s cousins said with a laugh.

“What the fuck do you mean? He’s going to wipe the floor with him!”

Another of Dakota’s aunts came out with a plate heaping with steaming ham and turkey.

“Jesus, woman, I said get the man a hot plate of food!” an uncle yelled.

His sister shoved the plate at another sister, hauled back, and slugged him in the stomach. Her brother doubled over. I sucked in a breath.

“Don’t even worry about him,” one of her ever-multiplying uncles told me, slapping my back. “He sits on the bench all game. Now, let’s talk strategy.”