Laughing—and maybe a bit dazed—he said, “You’re welcome.”
“Will you put it on me?”
His fingers lingered over my wrist after he did the honors, and my breath stuttered in my throat. In the past we’d exchanged silly presents at Christmas. Reflecting the shift in our relationship, this was our first time being serious. My heartbeat kicked up as I realized that at some point I must have mentioned aquamarine was my favorite and he’d remembered.
God, I was so in love with him.
I caught myself right before I blurted out my feelings. “Your turn.”
Unlike me, Danny had zero respect for wrapping paper. He tore into his present then sat back against the cushions and stared at it for so long I thought I might have screwed up. Clearing my throat, I said, “I made it for you. Wildcats colors. I was going to do Broncos colors, but you’re a star on the Wildcats, so—”
“No one has ever done something like this for me before.” His words were barely audible as he ran his hands over the stitches. Then he draped it over the back of the couch and kissed me like I was made of spun gold. “I am the luckiest fucker in the world,” he said as we worked to catch our breath. “This is the best present anyone has ever given me.”
“Truly?”
“Oh, fuck yes.” He kissed me again for emphasis.
I’d wanted to give him something special for Christmas—something only I could give him. Once I’d hit on the perfect gift, I’d spent a bunch of late nights crocheting a Weekender afghan for him. Other people might have been able to create one in a weekend, but I’d worked on his whenever I had some time—usually long after I should have been in bed. Though I’d lost some sleep, with every stitch I’d thought about him and smiled.
“I wish I could spend the night with you,” he said. “Especially after you gave me this.” He smoothed his hand over the blue-and-gold yarn and looked at me with an intensity that sank into my bones. In that moment I would have given him everything.
His phone vibrated a text. He ignored it. Then another. And another.
“You’d probably better see what that’s about,” I said. Though I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice, it insisted on coming out anyway.
Running his hands through his hair, he echoed my disappointment with resignation. “It’s my roommates reminding me I need to spend tonight in my own bed so I don’t miss the bus in the morning.” He smoothed the pad of his finger over my cheek. “It’s just...I’m not going to see you for the next ten days.”
Covering his hand and holding it to my face, I said, “I know.” Then I turned to drop a kiss into his palm. “But we can FaceTime and text.” I kissed him again.
“Not the same, T,” he said, his voice stern.
“Better than nothing.”
His phone buzzed again, and he sighed. Pulling it from his pocket, he fired off a quick text then gathered me in his arms. “Next year we’re spending Christmas together.”
A long, lingering kiss intensified his pronouncement, and my heart fluttered with hope. Then he stood and shrugged on his jacket and stepped into his boots. I handed him his present, and he leaned down for another kiss.
“Merry Christmas, T.”
“Merry Christmas, Danny. Good luck on Saturday. We’ll be cheering so loud, the neighbors will probably call the police.” I smiled.
“I’ll hear you.” He smiled back and walked out into the wintry December darkness.
?Chapter Thirty-One
?Taryn
The Wildcats foughthard, but the Bison were on home turf, and they’d made it this deep into the playoffs each of the past seven years. Their advantages were on full display while our boys struggled to find their rhythm. Though the final score was close, the outcome favored the home team. Even through the TV screen, Wildcats fans could feel the team’s dejection. I couldn’t remember a game I was sadder about losing, and I wasn’t even on the field.
The next day was Christmas Eve, and I knew Danny was in transit to North Carolina. Still, I texted.
Me: Proud of you. My whole family was proud of you.
Danny: This one stings. But thank you.
Me: At least tonight you can play Santa for Devyn.
Danny: Yeah. I’m arriving after his bedtime. Hope he still likes me after we lost.
