Eli: He’s okay. Concussion means no skating or jumping today. He’s bummed, but he gets it. We’ll manage things closely.
Renae: He’s a kid. He’ll bounce back.
Eli: I hope so. Stella and I could use a nice drama-free Christmas and New Year’s.
Renae: You didn’t mess up this second chance. I’m proud of you, sir. And I’m so happy for all of you. Let me know what you need. I’m here to support your new little family however I can.
I swallow around the tightness in my chest. She has not only been my PA but a rock for me to lean on through all of this.
Eli: Get yourself all stocked up with Mountain Dew for the year?
Renae: And then some, sir. Need to see the receipt?
Eli: Nope. Merry Christmas, Renae. And thanks for everything.
Renae: You’re welcome—Eli. Merry Christmas to you.
Before I put my phone away, I open the group chat with Cam and Kris.
Eli: Plot twist: I have a son.
Cam: Holy shit. What?
Kris: Who?
I look up—and my breath catches. The doors open, and chilly air blows in, but my heart warms at the sight of the people entering.
Eli: Stella’s son, Aiden. He’s mine, always was. We’re happy. Long story. I’ll fill you in soon.
I tuck my phone away and rush to them. Aiden walks in, supported on either side by his mom and Marjorie. He scans the rink, eyes lighting up at the decorations, the noise, the sheer joy of it all. He’s bundled up, a stocking cap pulled low over his head, bandages, moving slower and more carefully than usual.
When he spots me, his face splits into a smile that knocks the wind right out of me.
“Hey, buddy.” We do our signature fist bump.
“No skating for me today,” he says solemnly, like he’s repeating doctor’s orders just to prove he was listening.
“I know.” I tap his nose. “But we’ve got you set up over here to see everything.”
We guide him to the big cushioned chair we had set up near the boards—blankets piled high, pillows, and a perfect view. Once he’s settled, the other children drift over, one by one. Waving. Offering high-fives. Telling him happy birthday. Telling him to get well soon.
He soaks it all in, smiling, just happy to be here.
Stella stands beside me, her hand finding mine without thinking as she looks around.
“This is incredible,” she breathes.
Before I can answer, a shout goes up.
“Santa’s here!”
Mason appears from the back hallway in a full red suit and beard, and the place erupts. Kids swarm him instantly, lining up as he hands out gifts from a massive sack. I watch Aiden track the whole thing.
We talked this morning, just the two of us, about his wish.
Santa finishes; the sack empties, but Aiden doesn’t get a present.
He looks at me—not disappointed—knowing why his wish couldn’t be wrapped up and handed out. I squeeze his hand and give him a wink.
