Stick Your Landing (All In #3)

27. Zach

27

Zach

The tradition of Christmas Eve at the Callahan’s continues this year, bigger than ever.

I haven’t spent Christmas with my family since entering the league three years ago, which makes it hard to get into the holiday spirit. The Wolves always play the day after Christmas, so I don’t have enough time to fly to Manitoba, and my family isn't able to come to North Carolina. My mom’s a librarian with holidays off, but my dad’s construction job schedule causes issues. Melanie and Jeff both make their own working hours, but they lose money any time they choose not to work.

It’s not only the atmosphere heading into the party that gets me into the holiday mood—decorations covering every inch of the house, a display of Santa and his reindeer on the roof, light-wrapped trees in the front yard, Christmas scents wafting from the house as I approach—but it’s also my teammates—my family—waiting inside.

And the woman I’ve fallen helplessly in love with, whose name flashes on my phone screen as I reach the front door.

Finley

Are you almost here?

Me Do you have a tracking device on me or something?

I open the front door to the enormous house packed with people. I maneuver my way through the foyer to the kitchen, miraculously not bumping into anyone while scanning the rooms for Finley.

Finley

What are you talking about?

I spot her standing beside the fireplace, her hair glowing in the dim firelight, curls falling over her bare shoulders, splashing onto the top of her dress. The dress hugs her body until it flares out from her waist, the front shorter than the back, showcasing her sculpted thighs. Black boots reach above her knees, tied strings hanging in the back. I swallow hard, managing to make my fingers type a reply to her.

Me Look to your left.

Finley’s scrunched expression smooths when her gaze lands on me from across the room. For a singular moment, it’s the two of us—no music, no chatter, no one to distract us—then Finley’s head jerks to the right to Kennedy, who whispers something to her and smirks.

Finley

Apparently, we’re being too obvious ??

I love Kennedy for watching our backs, but I also hate that this means I’ll likely spend the entire party away from the person I most want to be with.

Me

Any chance I can see you later?

I’m interrupted by a panicked Connie Callahan, our party host, rushing in my direction. “Oh, thank God you’re here.”

The words don’t make sense, but after glancing behind me, there’s no one else who she could be speaking to.

“Oh, you’re too cute, Briggsy.” She rests a hand on my shoulder, like I’ve seen her do with her kids too many times to count. “I’m talking to you. I need a favor.”

“Okay?" I say with a shrug. If I can’t spend the night beside the woman I love, I might as well make myself useful. I follow her upstairs to her bedroom.

“Santa bailed on us,” Connie says as soon as the door shuts. “But I told everyone he would be here, so if he’s not, the kids will think he hates them.”

I know what’s coming before she says it, but nothing prepares me for the costume she holds up. “Zach, we need a replacement Santa Claus.”

I blink. “You want me to be Santa?”

I will never live this down with my teammates and friends, not to mention the woman I’m perpetually trying to impress.

“I will so owe you.”

Can’t you ask anyone else? The words linger on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t say them because no one else would agree. Connie came to me because I’d never say no, especially not to her kids, whose hockey team I help coach whenever I can. I love her kids and hate the idea of them being disappointed. Imagine the trauma of thinking Santa stood you up.

“Fine,” I reply on the exhale of a sigh.

“You’re a saint!” Connie thrusts the costume into my arms. “It won’t take long at all. A half hour tops. Take some pictures. Hand out presents.” She points to the restroom. “I’ll wait out here while you change.”

Ten minutes later, I walk back into the room, swimming in a costume made for someone bigger than me. Connie stuffs me with pillows to create a belly, securing them to my body with string from the kid’s craft table.

I laugh at my reflection in the mirror. “Mason’s going to know it’s me.”

Connie hands me a red velvet bag of presents. “Of course he is, which is why I’ve bribed him to play along. One hundred dollars gets you a lot of cooperation.”

One hundred dollars . Mason Callahan lives a different childhood than mine. My parents didn’t have money to throw around, not when they had two kids to send through the expensive sport of hockey. Seeing them bust their asses instilled the work ethic in me that I needed to land my dream. It took grit and sacrifice, and a heavy dose of delusion, to make it to the NHL.

In some ways, the Mason Callahans of the world who have every advantage, are the ones at a disadvantage. They never have to scrap for a single thing in their lives.

“Ready?” Connie asks. She pokes her head out of the bedroom, making sure the coast is clear before holding the door open wide for me. “Go out the front door and come in from the garage. You know the combination still?”

I give her a thumbs-up, then waddle down the steps and out of the house. The combination lets me into a garage full of luxury cars, like the ones my teammates drive to the arena. I’m still driving the same used car I purchased during my rookie season when I was in a pinch, opting to splurge my signing bonus on my family instead. My success belongs to them as much as it does to me.

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” I call in a gruff tone that sounds nothing like me, if I do say so myself.

“Kids!” Connie shouts in fake surprise. “It’s Santa!”

Her announcement brings on an explosion of sound as kids sprint toward me, screaming. Connie quickly organizes the chaos, finding a place for me to settle near the Christmas tree. Cookies and milk sit beside my seat, the only incentive I needed to take this gig. She should’ve led with it.

I scour the room until I find Finley leaning against the kitchen island, one hand over her mouth to smother a laugh, the other gripping a cellphone pointed in my direction.

Yep, never living this down.

After taking photos, Connie opens the floor for questions from the kids, like this is a postgame presser. I answer questions about the North Pole, explain why my reindeer aren’t with me, and why I won’t lose weight (yes, seriously).

I heave a sigh of relief when Connie coordinates my exit through the garage, to the front of the house, and back upstairs. I head to the guest restroom, not comfortable going into Connie and Rich’s bedroom alone.

A soft wrap of knuckles sounds a few minutes later while I’m easing off the costume and unstrapping pillows from my body. “Who is it?”

“It’s me.”

“Finley?”

I unlatch and crack the door. Finley pushes it open, hands landing on my shoulder to guide me further into the room. She kicks the door shut, waiting for the slam before lunging at me. She moans when her tongue connects with mine, and her hips rock into me.

“I’ve needed to do that since you walked in.”

She kisses me again, hands skimming my torso.

“We can’t do this here.” But my hands are on her ass, pulling her closer.

She murmurs, “I know.” She keeps kissing me as we walk backward until we settle on the lip of the bathtub. Finley pulls her dress up slowly flashing me red lace before descending to my lap.

My hands are in her hair, tracing down her arms, before settling on her hips. “You look so fucking gorgeous, High-flyer.”

The door to the restroom swings open. Finley flinches in my lap, and we totter into the bathtub, my hands bracing on the wall to balance us.

“What in the fuck is going on here?” Matt stands in the doorway, slack-jawed, staring at his sister straddling me.

I’m frozen, watching the usually amiable face of my captain morph from shock to disgust. His nostrils flare, his hands tightening into fists. With each passing second, I helplessly register a new sign of rage.

Finley doesn’t move either. From the way her gorgeous eyes narrow into slits, I don’t think it’s for the same reasons as me.

“Do you mind ?” she sneers.

Matt scoffs. “So that’s how you’re going to play this?”

Fuck . Finley and I hid our relationship from him to avoid this reaction. Some part of me thought underneath his surprise and apprehension, there’d be relief in knowing he trusted his sister’s partner to have her best interest in mind.

I never considered my blissful naivety a bad trait until this moment.

“It’s none of your business who I date,” Finley replies, anchoring her feet on the floor and pulling me to a sitting position.

She makes no move to leave my lap, rearranging herself to be more comfortable—legs crossed over mine, knee-high boots on full display. Her red dress pools around us, but my bare chest is still on display.

Is there a worse way to reveal our relationship than half-dressed and devouring each other during a family-friendly Christmas party?

Matt motions between us with a careless flick of his hand. “Is that what you call this—dating? Is it also how you and Sawyer Jennings describe your relationship?”

Finley’s hand finds mine, gripping tightly, something her brother doesn’t miss. “No. I call him my boyfriend’s best friend and teammate.”

“B-boyfriend?” Matt sputters.

“That’s right,” she says, exaggerating the A in that .

Someone else might see the satisfied smirk on Finley’s face and question her motives for being with me, but I know this conflict with Matt and the rest of her family goes much deeper. When we met two years ago, she seemed detached, at least in comparison to the woman I now know. So much about Finley's life still doesn’t add up, because there’s a missing piece I don’t have to explain the seismic shift away from her chosen path.

“You think he ”—Matt nods in my direction like I can’t hear him—“can handle you, Finley?”

I can’t remember the last time I felt so small and insignificant. A sinking sensation in my gut tells me I’m about to finally learn what she’s chosen not to tell me.

“You don’t need to worry about it. It’s none of your business.”

Matt crosses his arms over his chest. “Wrong on both accounts. You live under my roof, and I’m responsible for making sure you stay on track. Everything you do is my business. You have a condition that needs to be managed, Finley. You think he can manage it?”

You have a condition rattles around my brain. There’s no way the intensity of my stare doesn’t prickle Finley’s skin, but her eyes remain steadfastly glued to her brother.

“ I can manage it,” she snaps.

Matt rolls his eyes so dismissively, my fist balls at my side. He shouldn’t fucking treat her like this. “Yeah, because that went so well last time.”

“And no one can grow and learn after a mistake? Forevermore, you’ll all consider me a child who needs to be cared for.”

“That’s not what I’m say—”

Finley cuts him off. “Let’s be honest. You don’t think anyone can handle my brand of mess. I should do what Mom and Dad want, keep my stress low, live a small little life. Make everything easier on all of you and stop burdening you with my existence.”

The impact of those words lands on Matt’s face like the smack of a puck against the crossbar. He doesn’t say anything for a moment. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet. “Fi, I love you. I want what’s best for you.”

“I’m tired of being careful. I want to live.”

Her voice cracks, shattering my heart along with it. I wrap my arm around Finley’s shoulders, wanting her to know she’s not alone because she’ll always have me. Her turquoise eyes find their way to mine, full of apology.

Matt follows the movement, and it revives his anger. “And living involves hooking up with my teammate, who can barely take care of himself—”

Finley’s head whips toward Matt, her tone matching his. “He had a concussion.”

“He’s not that different without one.”

Well, fuck. That hurts.

I beat Finley to the punch, telling Matt, “Dude, you crossed a line.”

“ I crossed a line?” Matt thunders. “You fucked my sister, Briggs.”

He’s got me there.

I say quietly, “It’s not like that.”

A disgusted sigh escapes his lips. “Did you tell him?”

He’s referring to the mysterious condition I’m apparently too much of a dumbass to understand. This might be the only point the Harris siblings agree on. What other reason could Finley have for keeping something so important from me?

“You didn’t, did you?”

Finley leaps off my lap, rushing to her brother. “Matt, don’t.”

“You know I’m right. It’s why you haven’t told him. He can’t handle it.”

“Stop talking about him like that,” Finley snaps.

I launch to my feet. “What the hell, dude? I thought we were friends.”

“You fucked my sister,” he repeats. It’s the refrain that will allow him to win every argument with me for eternity… if he’ll even speak to me after tonight. “You’re lucky I’m not breaking your bones right now.”

Gemma appears in the doorway behind Matt. “Baby, I can hear you yelling from downstairs. What's going on here?”

She closes the door, blocking the noise from the party and concealing our conversation from prying ears.

“Your husband is out of line,” Finley says.

At the same time, Matt replies, “Found these two playing grab ass.”

Gemma says nothing, her lack of reaction revealing she already suspected Finley and I were in a relationship.

“Is this why you insisted Briggsy stay with us after his concussion?” Matt asks.

She bites her lip, saying nothing.

The creases in Matt’s forehead deepen with each passing second. He asks again, “Gem, is this why?”

“I thought…” Gemma pauses to clear her throat. “I thought they’d get along. She was lonely, babe. I know you see it. And I knew Zach would be lost without hockey. There’s nothing wrong with them being friends.”

Matt throws his hands into the air. “Dammit, Gemma. When are you going to cut out this meddling bullshit?”

She lets out a sharp laugh. “Well, if it isn’t the pot calling the kettle black. You’re the one trying to control every aspect of her life and keep her inside a bubble.”

“Exactly,” Finley says, nodding vigorously at Gemma’s proclamation.

Seeing Matt and Gemma argue shocks me to my core. All I’ve witnessed is steadfast devotion to each other, but here’s a crack. Some people might find it comforting to witness imperfection, but I don’t like the reminder that the strongest relationships can fall apart if we’re not careful.

“She’s an adult,” I chip in, ignoring Gemma’s pleas for us to stop. This conversation has spiraled too far out of control to end now. “It’s none of your business.”

“I’m responsible for her,” Matt repeats his earlier words. “I make sure she’s taking care of herself. Something someone should do for you.”

“He’s smarter than people think,” Finley says.

It hurts, hearing her defend me to her brother when I suspect she doesn’t believe it. If she did, she would’ve told me about the mysterious condition that upended her entire life, which has her family so worried.

Matt lets out an ugly laugh. “He abandoned a grease fire in Volk’s house. He microwaves metal. He—”

“And you’ve never made mistakes?”

Matt points at me. “He can barely take care of himself.”

I take a step toward him but not beside Finley, because I’m no longer sure we’re a team. “If I’m such an idiot, why do I know what she needs better than you do?”

“You think you know what Finley needs? You don’t know the first thing about her.”

“Matt, stop,” Finley pleads in desperation.

“Tell him, Finley. Tell him, or I will.”

Gemma utters under her breath, “Baby, it’s not for you to tell. You know it’s not.”

Tears stream down Finley’s face. “I hate you so much right now.”

“This is for your own good.” Matt rips open the door; shockingly, it doesn’t tear off its hinges. “Hate me if you want, but I’m protecting you.”

Gemma glances over her shoulder in the direction Matt stomped. “I’m sorry, Fi. I’ll try to talk to him.”

“Don’t bother,” she mutters, staring at the floor. Tears splash her boots.

Every instinct screams to comfort her, to do anything to stop her pain, but I can’t unhear Matt’s accusations. “Is he right? Have you not told me because you think I’m a helpless idiot?”

Finley’s eyes meet mine. “What? No.”

It hurts too much to stare into the watery blue, so I turn away. “Do you not trust me?”

I barely hear her voice over the music from downstairs. “How can you ask me that?”

“What don’t I know about you, High-flyer?”

“I’m not… I’m not ready, all right?”

I nod once, hearing all I need to hear. She’s not ready to confide in me even though she knows I love her. It’s not like I didn’t know Finley had a secret, something to explain everything about her life that doesn’t make sense. I told her I’d wait until she was ready, and I meant it. But now, I don’t know if she’s ever going to be ready.

Not because she’s not ready, but because I’m me, the guy she teaches how to be a self-sufficient adult. If enough people call your ability into question, eventually you need to consider whether they’re right. Maybe Finley came to the same realization.

“I wish you felt differently.” I step toward her, leaning in to drop a kiss on her cheek. My lips linger before I dig deep for strength to walk away. “Merry Christmas, Finley.”

I wish I felt differently too, because this ache in my chest, it’s damn near killing me.