After a career-ending fight, ex-professional-hockey-player-turned-Zamboni-driver Chase Cassidy has never looked back at the sport. He's perfectly content cleaning the ice between periods and chatting with fellow staff members, and running a pub outs...
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Spencer
I adjust the sparkly blue-and-silver bow on Chase's present before setting it under the tree. This is the third time I've fiddled with the bow. Hell, I've had to talk myself out of re-wrapping several times already.
Stepping back, I chew on my thumb and stare at it. The news about Chase spending Christmas with us was sudden, but I did my best to scrap together a last-minute present. There are two components to it: one that's usable and another that's for fun. The usable present is a three-in-one charging stand for his iPhone, AirPods, and Apple Watch. The fun present is a Lord of the Rings T-shirt that says Lord of the Cats: The Furrllowship of the Ring and has cats surrounding the text, all dressed as character like Legolas, Aragorn, and Frodo.
All I can do is hope he likes it. Lennon told me Chase has a cat. So I tied our common interest in Lord of the Rings to his love for cats, and I found his present.
"Spencer, honey," Mom calls. "Could you come help me for a moment? Lennon's hands are covered in bread dough. And your father..." She trails off and sighs. "Is the taste tester again."
Dad, whose mouth is full, says, "I'm working on the gravy. After I make sure the food tastes good."
Tipping my head back, I whisper a soft thank you. Mom's timing is impeccable. Had I stood here any longer, I would've re-wrapped the present. It's stupid to obsess over the wrapping paper. Chase would accept the gift in a paper bag. But I want him to like it.
From the couch, I grab my cardigan and pull it on. Then I head into the kitchen. There, I'm welcomed by the smell of thyme, garlic and fresh sage. Underlying notes of cinnamon and cloves tickle my nose from the mulled wine that's brewing on the stovetop. It's a few degrees warmer in the kitchen, which helps to eradicate the chill lingering in my spine. Earlier, Lennon and I were outside shovelling the driveway. It was going well until we got distracted and had a snowball fight. I swear my ass and thighs are still numb. I haven't been able to warm up since.
Sure enough, Mom's description of the kitchen's state is accurate. While Mom is poking the roast with a thermometer, Dad is eating from a small plate, testing the mashed potatoes, candied yams, and apple coleslaw. Lennon looks like a child. There's flour all over his apron and dough sticks to his hands and wrists.
"Are you a child?" I ask.
Lennon grins and waggles his fingers at me. "I'm having fun. You should try it sometime."
Crossing my arms, I cock an eyebrow. "I had fun kicking your ass."
His expression turns dark. "You ambushed me and gave me a face-wash with snow. Then shoved it down my snow-pants. My favourite jeans are soaked."
I jut my bottom lip out, swiping a small chunk of dough and smearing it across his forehead. He stands there, letting me do it because he knows if he touches me with his doughy hands, I'll kick his ass. Again. I'm dressed in my fancy Christmas outfit. "Poor baby."
