Page 231 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

I’m excited, but also a little sad.

This town might be where Mom grew up, but the locals have welcomed us all with open arms. It’s such an incredible place to spend the holidays, and I can only imagine how magical it must be for the children who live here. Everyone goes out of their way to decorate, and the entire town looks like Santa’s grotto. It’s pretty incredible. I know that if things go well, Calvin will get to experience it all in the future, but there’s an impatient part of me that wants him to see it all this year.

“Are you ready?” Mom asks once we all gather in the living room, ten minutes before we need to leave for the community center. Dad has already done three trips back and forth this afternoon with trays of food. He was under strict instructions not to eat anything, and I’m not entirely sure if he followed those orders. I know Garrett and I haven’t.

“Are we really doing this again?” Garrett grumbles as Mom hands out gifts. He’s only messing; I know that, deep down, he secretly loves this tradition.

“Oh, stop you’re complaining, Grinch,” Mom teases as we all take our gifts and wait for the signal. “I got really good ones this year. You’re all going to love them.”

Garrett, Dad, and I look at each other.

In order to be invited to this community party, you have to turn up wearing a Christmas sweater, and Mom has taken it upon herself to find the most awful sweaters she can and force us to wear them as a family. It’s cringy as hell, and I love it.

“Okay, go,” she finally says, and the three of us tear into our perfectly wrapped gifts.

“Oh my—” Dad starts, but he’s quickly interrupted by Garrett.

“Mom,” he cries as he presses a button on the front of his sweater that makes Rudolph’s nose flash red before a very out-of-tune musical rendition of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” erupts from somewhere. “It’s awful.”

Mom claps her hands happily. “I know.” She beams. “Aren’t they great?”

“No,” we all state in unison, although I can’t deny that the three of us are also smiling as we pull the ugly sweaters on.

“Huddle! We need a photo before we leave.”

We all get into position, and Garrett holds his arm out for a family selfie that no doubt will be added to the collection of photos that fill this house.

“Perfect,” Mom praises. “This is going to be the best Christmas ever.”

I want to agree, but I can’t help but feel like something is missing.

But there isn’t time to dwell on that because Mom ushers us out of the house, stating that we’re already late.

We all know better than to argue with her, so we pull our shoes on, grab our coats and the remaining trays of food, and head out.

I swear, the community center can probably be seen from space with the number of lights that have been strung.

People flood in from all directions, and there’s barely any parking.

“See, I told you we were late,” Mom mutters as Dad drives farther down the street to park.

Sensing Garrett’s attention on me, I look over.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah, of course,” I lie.

“What’s going on?” Mom asks, proving that she does, in fact, have supersonic hearing when it comes to her kids.

“Nothing,” I mutter at the same time Garrett announces, “Sienna is lovesick.”

“Seriously?” I snap, glaring at him.

“What? Tell me I’m wrong.”

My glare gets harder.

“Aw, sweetie,” Mom says, her voice full of empathy. “You’ll see him again soon.”