It’s Mother-Pucking Christmas!

33. Ryder

33

RYDER

C hristmas with Dakota’s family had been insane and wonderful and a little overwhelming. I’d had Christmas in foster care, but it had always been a little depressing. In the foster homes, when people would do Christmas with their real family, I was just the tagalong. People wouldn’t expect that I’d be there, and I’d get a last-minute gift of socks or something then spend the next two hours watching as the real kids all opened their mounds of presents.

I had never ever gotten presents the way Dakota’s family did.

“Sit in front of the tree,” Violet ordered me, as Hudson, a big grin on his face, shoved me into a chair.

“Do you want a shirt on him, Vi?” Aunt Stacy asked.

“The hell she does. This is Christmas, goddamn it!” Granny Murray shouted. “Give the people what they want! What kind of PR princess are you?”

“Got the camera ready?” Dakota called.

There was shushing from the kitchen.

“Close your eyes, Ryder,” my girlfriend said.

“Just blindfold him.” Hudson tied leftover Christmas ribbon over my eyes.

“It’s a little disturbing how well you do that,” Aunt Stacy said.

“You mean erotic?” Granny Murray knocked back the rest of her eggnog.

I sucked in a breath. There was a familiar bark, then something very large and very furry was dropped on my lap.

There were happy canine yips and then lots of slobber all over my face.

I pulled off the blindfold.

“Dasher?”

The dog’s tail was a blur as he went crazy, licking my face then crawling all over me.

“Look at his little sweater,” Dakota’s mom cooed as the dog rolled over, wanting me to rub his belly, then decided nope, he wanted to sit on my shoulders like a parrot. He noticed Gracie’s pugs and started howling.

“Merry Christmas!” Dakota kissed me. “It’s not a satisfying Christmas unless someone gets a puppy.”

“That’s not a puppy. That’s a dog,” Hudson said appreciatively.

“He’s still a little bit of a puppy,” I said, defending Dasher and his less than socially acceptable behavior.

Dasher chased wrapping paper across the floor and got tangled up in the Christmas tree lights. I lunged, grabbing him before he could take the tree down.

“Look at the paws on that thing.” Hudson whistled.

“Gracie’s husband is tired of pugs,” Uncle Bic said conversationally.

“I half expected another one to be in my stocking.” Hudson grimaced as the pugs flopped down on his feet. “I bet that husky can run for miles.”

“Guess we know what we’re getting you for Christmas next year, Hudson,” Dakota joked while Gracie assured the pugs that of course their daddy still loved them.

“An untrained, oversized wolf?” Dakota’s dad said, frowning.

Dasher, true to his name, sprinted back across the living room and leapt into my arms like he couldn’t believe I was there! With him! And there was wrapping paper to chase and garland to chew!

“No!” I pulled him away.

“Are you surprised?” Dakota gushed, hopping up and down.

“Yeah! A dog. I’ve always wanted a dog and seriously thought about adopting Dasher.”

The husky zoomed in a circle around the living room, making the little kids shriek and scattering coal and wrapping paper everywhere.

“I don’t know, though, Dakota,” I said. “He can’t stay in my apartment. You’ve seen it. It’s tiny. Not to mention, I travel.”

“I have pet sitters lined up,” Dakota said, pointing to her family.

“You need this dog,” Violet informed me. “He’s good PR.”

I fought Dasher for the Christmas stocking he’d found and started chewing on.

“It’s a step toward grandchildren,” Babs was chanting. “Grandchildren come next.”

“He needs a house with a yard,” Dakota’s father said emphatically. “You didn’t think this through, Dakota.”

Her uncles agreed, faces flat.

A knot formed in my stomach. Now that Dasher had been effectively adopted, I couldn’t just abandon him. But I also didn’t want Dakota’s father to hate me.

“He can’t go back to the shelter!” Gracie cried, tears in her eyes. “Look how happy he is!”

Dasher gave knocking down the Christmas tree another go. He barked excitedly, and his tail knocked the eggnog pitcher all over the pugs.

“Out!” Dakota’s dad bellowed. “Get him out of my house!”

I picked up Dasher and carried him to the front door.

“We’re not taking him back to the shelter,” Dakota yelled at her dad.

“Have a heart, Uncle Mark,” Gracie pleaded.

“You’re ruining my PR,” Violet complained as everyone massed to the front door.

Dakota’s uncles argued with her.

“He has to have a yard.”

“He needs a house.”

“That dog cannot live in an apartment. He’s going to tear up everything.”

“He just needs to be exercised,” Hudson argued. “Dog like that? He needs to be out in the snow ten miles a day. Shit, I’ll take him running in the mountains with me.”

“Not the pugs?” Gracie asked, trying to towel them off while Dasher licked them nervously.

“I’ll carry them in their backpack.” Hudson kissed her quickly.

I squeezed Dasher. He seemed to know that he’d blown it.

“Leave that poor man alone, Gracie,” one of the aunts scolded. “Hudson puts up with a lot from you.”

“Because I love her.” Hudson kissed Gracie again.

“Don’t worry, Dasher.” Dakota kissed his black nose. “My dad’s just drunk.”

“Just take him for a run,” Dakota’s mom coaxed me. “Get some of that energy out, then we’ll have brunch. How about that?”

“I will never come to another Christmas again.” Dakota was threatening her family as we pulled on boots, hats, sweaters, and coats while Dasher freaked out that he was going on a WALK! OUTSIDE in the SNOW!

“You can’t have a dog like that without a house,” the uncles thundered as Dakota’s massive family spilled out into the yard.

Mark urged everyone across the street. “Out of my yard. Mind the Christmas ornaments,” he bellowed as Dakota almost tripped over a yard elf.

“Come on, Dasher.” I set him down on the sidewalk. He shook himself then jumped almost up to my shoulders in excitement.

“We can just run him down to the river and back,” Hudson said, smoothing a black skullcap onto his head.

“Not yet, Ryder.” Dakota’s dad held out an arm.

“Dad, what the hell?”

“Dakota, what the hell?” Mark mimicked her, a big grin spreading on his face. “Dasher needs to see his new house first so if he slips his leash he knows where to come back home to.”

“Just put an AirTag on him,” Dakota said then—

“Wait, what house?” I interjected, frowning.

Mark and his brothers were grinning as they crossed the street. We followed, confused.

“Um,” Dakota said when her dad stopped in front of the house across the street.

“Ta-da!” Mark announced with a grin.

He unlocked the gate in the white picket fence that surrounded one of the holiday-card houses, a Sold sticker slapped on the real estate sign in the front yard, which had a photo of one of Dakota’s mom’s cousins on it—or maybe it was an aunt’s sister-in-law?

“I told you,” Mark repeated, his brothers giddy beside him. “A dog like that needs a house and a yard.” He slapped a key in my hand.

“Merry Christmas, kids! And Dasher!” Mark bent down to pet the husky.

“No!” Dakota’s mouth dropped open.

“Wait…” I looked up in awe at the three-story house. The dormers of the finished attic glowed softly, decorated with wreaths.

“Welcome home, Ryder!” Dakota’s dad put me in a headlock then gave me a hug.

“Are you serious?” My eyes burned. I looked around wildly. “There’s a porch and a yard and a living room. But there’s a Christmas tree in there. Doesn’t someone live here?”

“You do!” Dakota’s uncles whooped.

I half sobbed out a laugh. “A house, Dakota, we have a house!” I picked her up and spun her around and around while she shrieked and Dasher bounded around us. “A home! I’m finally home! We’re home, Dasher!”

Tears ran down Dakota’s face. Her aunts and mom were sobbing.

The dog raced to the front porch, spun around, came back, hopped the fence like it wasn’t even there, and zoomed back. Hudson caught him before he could jump the fence again.

“There’s a taller fence in the back,” Uncle Bic assured me.

“Welcome home, sweetheart!” Babs wrapped me in a teary hug, then Dakota’s family was piling on us.

“You can’t buy her a house,” Nico complained.

“We didn’t. Timmy and Dakota’s inheritance bought Ryder a house.” Dakota’s dad sniffed, herding me and Dakota up the steps.

“You already gave me a shit ton of coal for Christmas and now you took my inheritance?” Dakota complained.

“How else are you going to host the after-hockey cookout?” her aunts crowed.

“Oh my god!” Dakota looked around the massive porch.

Her little cousins piled on the porch swing.

“We can see Aunt Babs’s house.”

“Yeah, never mind, I don’t want a house,” her sister said. “Not if it’s right across the street from Mom and Dad.”

“Can I get Dakota’s room?” Nico asked.

“There’s lots of bedrooms, so you can host relatives for holidays, birthdays, and family parties,” Babs trilled.

“And if you get tired of having houseguests,” Granny Murray piped up, “you can always turn the rooms into nurseries.”

“That’s a sneaky way to fill a house up with grandchildren.”

“Go inside, go inside!”

“Wait.” I grabbed Dakota before she could reach for the door. “We have to do it right.”

She laughed as I picked her up in my arms and kissed her as I carried her across the threshold.

“Welcome home.” She kissed me again. “I love you more than anything, Ryder. You’re my perfect Christmas present.”

“I love you,” I whispered. “I love you so much. I can’t wait to build our life together.”

“Isn’t this the Marshalls’ old house?” Timmy asked as her family streamed in. “I think Teddy used to hide his porn stash in the bathroom. Let’s go check if it’s there, uh…”

“Who’s buying porn in this day and age?” Granny Murray snorted as Dakota’s family— my family —all piled into our new home.

“We will, of course,” Maria said to me, “be house-sitting for you while you two are living it up in Manhattan.”

“A house across the street from my parents.” Dakota sighed.

I kissed her.

“It’s easy babysitting.”

“Did you hear that?” Dakota’s mom shrieked, setting off Dasher. “Grandbabies! Everyone get out so they can start right now!”

Dakota rolled her eyes and tugged me into the spacious home. The house was beautiful, with lots of hand-carved wood and big windows.

“This room is great for a nursery,” an aunt said, surprising us when we stepped into one light-filled room.

“Marriage first, please,” Dakota’s dad called up the stairs.

“Yessir.”

“Don’t listen to him!” Babs told me. “If you want to knock up my daughter, you go right ahead. I already had three kids when I was her age. No pressure, sweetie!”

“I believe in marriage first,” I said firmly.

“Of course you do,” Granny Murray said, patting my arm.

“Don’t propose to her now.” Violet scowled. “Dakota is not proposal ready.”

I kissed Dakota. “Don’t worry. I can’t propose to her yet. We still technically haven’t had our third date.”

When we came back downstairs, the cousins were trooping through, bringing over all the Christmas presents, which I now saw were housewarming presents.

“Where do you want your Christmas train set up?” Nico asked.

“I think you can just leave that. I mean, Christmas is almost over, so I don’t know if—oh.” Aunt Giana was already adding ornaments to the tree.

There was a sharp whistle, piercing the loud chatter of Dakota’s family. Dasher sat down, head cocked.

“Fuck decorating,” Hudson said from the doorway. “I thought we were playing hockey.”

“Hudson!” Gracie called from the bleachers. “Don’t overdo it.”

He skated by, sweat dripping down his face. “Ryder needs to be on a team by himself.”

“I’m on your team,” I reminded Hudson.

“I know,” he called back in disgust. “It’s exhausting trying to keep up with you.”

Gracie’s brother Logan tossed his hockey stick in the air in defeat as I swept by with the puck, scoring easily on Nate.

“Nah,” Dakota’s dad said, leaning on his stick. “He needs to play on both teams, like he just gets switched every five minutes or something.”

“And let’s start the switching now,” Uncle Bic said, handing me a Team Frosty jersey.

“Probably the hardest game you ever played, right?” Dakota joked, greeting me with Christmas-flavored kisses after the game ended in a tie.

“I think everyone earned their Christmas dinner!” Aunt Janet called. “Bonfire at Dakota’s!”