Page 187 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

“Have you got all your gifts?”

“From the smugness in your tone, I’m assuming you have.”

“Yep. And they’re all wrapped.”

“Ugh, you’re such a goody two-shoes,” I tease. “I’ve got Mom’s gift. And I think I know what I’m getting Dad. You’re the problem.”

He scoffs. “I’ve heard that before. I’m easy; I just need a hockey player.”

“As if we’ll fit one of those under the tree.”

“That’s okay, you can just put him in my bed. Preferably naked.”

“You’re a nightmare.”

“That’s why you love me.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Silence falls between us for a few seconds.

“I hate being so far away when you’re hurting.”

“I’m okay,” I lie.

“I know. I still don’t like it, though.”

“You’re happy out there, aren’t you, Gare?”

“What? Yeah, of course. You don’t need to worry about me,” he says, but there’s something in his tone that has me questioning just how truthful he’s being.

“You’d tell me if something was up, right? Even if I’m going through my own shit?”

There’s an ominous pause. “Yeah, of course.”

I narrow my eyes despite the fact he can’t see me.

“Okay,” I concede. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me too. I’m already dying for some of Mom’s mince pies.”

“Same. And her mulled wine.”

“I really need to hit the gym harder.” He laughs. “I’ve barely worked off Thanksgiving.”

“You’re hot and you know it.”

“Maybe I just needed to hear that.”

“You don’t need your ego stroked.”

“Maybe not, but it’s always nice to hear.”

“As if you don’t have men telling you exactly that every week.”

When he doesn’t respond immediately, I sit up a little straighter, curiosity surging through me.

“Garrett, is there something you need to tell me?”