It’s Mother-Pucking Christmas!

21. Dakota

21

DAKOTA

“ D id you make pancakes?” two of my brothers complained from the top of the stairs when I tried and failed to sneak back into my parents’ house after Ryder and his teammates left for the rink.

“Not for you.”

“Mom!” they yelled, running off.

“Doing the walk of shame at lunchtime?” Gracie teased me when she followed the pugs, who had raced through the house to greet me.

The pugs barked, smelling Dasher on my boots, probably.

“So worth it!” I sighed. “It was amazing. He was amazing. I can’t wait to see him again. He said he’s going to come fuck me after the game.” I floated into the living room.

“Must have been. You never spend the night at a guy’s place.”

“I had to. I could barely move. He could have kept going, though.” I sprawled out on the couch.

“Dang. It wasn’t like that one guy you hooked up with the one time who popped all that Viagra, and his weenie turned purple, and you had to take him to the emergency room?” Gracie sat down next to me.

“Oh no,” I purred. “He managed to come. And then he did it again. And again and again.”

“Good lord.”

“You ever watch Ryder O’Connell play hockey? Well.” I dropped my voice to a whisper. “He fucks just like that.” I grabbed Gracie. “He’s relentless. He would have fucked me all night and all morning if I let him. And don’t get me wrong, the sex is freaking amazing, but I love hanging out with him too. He’s funny. We have these really deep conversations. He’s so thoughtful but not like any of those know-it-all PhD students I dated. You remember when I was trying to date all those Ivy League guys?”

“You were in your dark academia phase,” Gracie said. “Though, to be fair, I liked them better than the men-in-finance. I take it Ryder blew it out of the park with date number three?”

“Apparently, he doesn’t count the last date as a date, but it was actually so much nicer than anything any of those self-absorbed Wall Street bros ever planned.” I swooned. I couldn’t help it. Ryder was everything.

“And he’s so sweet and kind. He volunteers. The senior citizens adore him. He’s like their grandchild, and he goes to the animal shelter to help socialize the dogs. Not to mention he loves Christmas and…” I trailed off at the look on my cousin’s face.

“Oh my gosh,” Gracie said slowly. “You’re in love with this guy.”

“What? No, that’s… No.” I sat up. “We’re hooking up.”

“You’re, like, dating dating him,” Gracie said flatly. “Like runway-to-marriage type of dating.”

“Marriage?”

You could have him fuck you up the ass, my vagina helpfully reminded me.

“I just met him. I’m not marrying him.”

“Marriage?!” My mom careened into the living room followed by a stampede of her sisters. “Dakota, you’re getting married?”

“God, Mom, no, that’s not—”

My mother wrapped me in her arms. “My first daughter to be getting married. Praise God!”

“We need to see if you can fit in my old wedding dress,” Aunt Giana said, measuring me with her hands.

“Aunt Giana.” Gracie made a face. “I don’t know if Dakota wants an eighties wedding dress.”

“Ryder would appreciate the tradition.” She sniffed. “That boy likes a hand-me-down. He’s sentimental. I can tell.” She sighed wistfully and stared at the mantel.

I followed her gaze. “Mom, what the hell?” I clapped my hands to my head in shock.

There, over the fireplace, instead of the frankly creepy-looking family portrait of all us kids my mother had had done at the mall, was an enormous poster-size photo of me and Ryder at the Christmas market yesterday. Dasher in his arms, Ryder was looking at me with that blue-eyed intensity.

“Mom, you can’t put that up. It looks like some sort of memorial photo. People will think we’ve died.”

“What am I supposed to do? I can never get a nice picture of you.” My mother sniffed.

“Who even took that? Are you all following me?” I demanded.

“Girl,” Violet drawled as she and several more cousins wandered into the living room, drawn by the potential drama, “you guys are all over the internet.”

“No,” my sister said, curling up next to me, a cup of coffee in her hands, “ Ryder’s all over the internet. He’s a meme.” She scrolled through her phone to show me. “He’s everywhere. Him and that dog.”

“You’re a placeholder,” my brother Nico added, showing me his phone. “Everyone’s reposting it as a meme because they can get so many likes.”

“Dakota, you look constipated.” Aunt Lisa peered at the photo on the phone.

Ryder looked amazing—eyes a sharp blue, his expression a mix between exasperated and bemused as he carried me by the waist under one arm, Dasher in his other, the husky’s paws around Ryder’s neck, his tongue poking out below his black nose.

“Me taking my children home from the mall,” read one caption.

“It, like, basically virals itself,” my brother said, scrolling through all the memes.

“I’ve never gotten so many Twitch viewers,” my other brother crowed from the stairs, “as I did when I live streamed about Ryder and you.”

“Does that mean you’re actually going to pay rent to Mom and Dad?” I shot at him.

My mom swatted me with a pillow. “I don’t charge my children rent. Honestly, Dakota. Family takes care of each other. You can stay here as long as you want, Peanut,” she cooed to my spoiled brother.

“Ow!” I complained as something rubbery hit me.

“There’s your mask,” my dad announced.

“Mask?”

“We’re going to Ryder’s game tonight,” my mom said matter-of-factly.

“We are?” I was horrified. “I’m not going to an Icebreakers game.”

“See?” My dad and his brothers exploded at my mom. “Dakota’s not even going, and she’s dating the poor bastard.”

My mom starred them down, and they deflated. “Ryder is family. Family supports family. We are all going to Ryder’s game, as a family . End of discussion.”

“It’s an away game,” my dad self-soothed. “We have masks and disguises. No one will know we’re cheering for the Icebreakers.”

“You’re not even going to be able to buy tickets this late in the day,” I argued with my mom.

“We have rink-side seats!” Gracie said happily. “Richmond Electric owns that stadium, apparently, and Grayson pulled some CEO strings.”

My uncles groaned. “No, we need to be far away so no one can see us.”

“Thank you, Gracie.” My mom kissed her cheek then turned to threaten the rest of the family. “You all shape up. Ryder needs to see us there, needs to know that we’re supporting him. Now, what do you want me to pack for your snack?”

“You can’t bring outside food…” Gracie deflated under my mom’s withering gaze.

“I will not be paying stadium prices. I can bring my own hot dogs, thank you very much.”

It was dark when the caravan of my family rolled up in front of the Richmond Electric Stadium outside of Boston. Frosthawks fans swarmed the stadium, decked out in orange.

“We’re all going to hell for this,” Logan, Gracie’s brother, said with a long-suffering sigh as my family all donned our disguises.

“If you all don’t cheer for that boy,” my mother warned, “I am cancelling Christmas. Dakota, you’re the one sleeping with him. Set an example.”

Granny Murray piped up. “You heard the woman!”

“You are not supposed to be here. There is a restraining order,” Gracie reminded her. Gracie, who didn’t care about hockey and only attended games for the food, was wearing a freshly knitted blue sweater with a lopsided Icebreakers mascot on it. The pugs wore matching sweater-vests.

“And you ain’t supposed to bring those dogs, but here we are.” Granny Murray slipped her mask on. “Unto the breach!”

When the security guards, also in orange, saw the first wave of my family, there were laughs and jeers. Then we kept coming.

As the dozens and dozens of my family members piled into the seats a few rows away from the rink, we did create an impressive square of blue in the field of orange. My uncles, I guess to keep some last shred of their integrity, were exclusively wearing Ryder’s jersey number.

“That’s right!” Granny Murray jeered at apprehensive-looking Frosthawks fans. “That’s how we bring it in Maplewood Falls! Get on your knees and suck Number 21’s dick!”

“I don’t know. I think Dakota has that covered.” My sister snickered.

“You all are going down!” Granny Murray whooped.

“Crazy old biddy!” one Frosthawks fan yelled back. “We’re going to kick the shit out of the Icebreakers.”

I shrank down. “Keep it down! No one is supposed to know I’m here, Gran.”

The embarrassment was worth it just to see Ryder’s eyes light up when the teams skated out for the national anthem. His blue eyes were glued to me as he skated a smooth lap around the rink.

The puck dropped. The Frosthawks went berserk. They were the best team in the league. You could barely make out the puck as they slapped it back and forth.

“Oh shit! They’re going to score!” my dad exclaimed as one big, bearded, orange-clad player hauled back to take a shot on goal among cheers from the crowd.

Except Ryder materialized right in the path of the puck and darted away with it.

“Hey, Ryder got the puck!” Gracie said happily as she knitted away next to me.

The Frosthawks defensemen stormed him. He shot the puck wildly to his right.

“But there’s no one—oh shit!” Uncle Nate swore as one of Icebreakers wingers came barreling in and slammed the puck back to Ryder a few paces up. Then he was taking a shot on goal before the defenders could catch him.

“Goal!” My family went wild while the Frosthawks fans groaned.

“Go, Ryder, go!” my mom and her sisters chanted, all wearing T-shirts with his face on them.

My dad nudged me and pointed to three men in suits. “Scouts,” he said. “They’re here for Ryder.”

“How do you know?”

“I called them,” Uncle Nate said from behind his mask. “I work for the NHL. One of the few perks of the job. That and free hockey tickets.”

“You what? Why?”

“Because you cannot marry an Icebreakers player,” Uncle Nate said flatly.

“Why does everyone think we’re getting married?” I shouted.

“If he plays for one of the New York City NHL teams, then we can show our faces at the game and O’Malley’s,” Uncle Sean told me patiently.

“Ryder likes this team,” I told them. “He loves playing for the Icebreakers.”

“You’re his girlfriend. Convince him otherwise,” my sister hissed from behind her wig and glasses.

“He’s playing like he’s trying to get called up to the NHL.” Uncle Nate nodded to the rink, where Ryder was flying down the ice.

“Another goal scored by Ryder O’Connell, and it’s only three minutes into the game.” The announcer sounded shocked. “Something tells me this is going to be a bloodbath for the Frosthawks.”