Page 80 of First Down Promise

“Yeah, you mentioned they were your favorite, and your mom made them every Christmas. Sorry you can’t get back to LA to see her this year,” Abby says.

“It’s okay. We’re going to Saint-Tropez this spring. Apparently, I need to brush up on my French.” He laughs under his breath. “But thank you. That was kind of you.”

“God, that’s so fancy!” Abby replies.

I’d take her anywhere—she just has to say the word.

“Uh, can I put these somewhere?” I ask her and nod to the gift-wrapped boxes in my arms.

“Oh, yeah! The tree,” Abby replies and nods toward the living room.

Her hands graze my arms as she takes a couple from me, and I follow her to the living room. One of Abby’s Christmas candles makes the entire room smell like pine, almost convincing enough to make me forget the tree is fake. It’s obscenely tall and meticulously decorated, and if we live together someday, I’m going to demand a less aesthetic, more lived-in tree just like what we had growing up.

“Still coming by later?” I whisper to her as we set the gifts down.

“Of course.” She turns away from me to walk back to the kitchen, but pauses. “After Pete heads for the airport.”

My shoulders relax as soon as she confirms that we’ll get some alone time later. I have a special gift for her, but it deserves a private moment. Ideally, when Pete is thirty-five thousand feet in the air on his way across the country.

“These are delicious, Ab,” Dane says when we return to the kitchen. He gives her a modest side hug when Pete finally appears at the bottom of the stairs.

“Of course,” Abby says. She giggles as she notices Pete. “Guys, wait till you see the charcuterie he made. He spent hours on it this morning.”

“Gotta respect our roots,” Pete replies. “Josh, Merry early Christmas.” He pats me on the back of my shoulder, but I make eye contact with Dane, who just smirks. Because we all seem to know something Pete doesn’t. Well, Coop doesn’t either, but guilt twists in my gut at the thought of hurting that teddy bear’s feelings. “Should we eat, or do the gift exchange first?”

“Both?” Abby replies.

Dane bumps my elbow. “Hope someone got you extra pillows,” Dane says low enough only for me to hear.

“But who’s going to get you extra ones, Dane?” I reply.

Dane narrows his eyes at me. “Touché,” he murmurs, but we’re not really talking about the damn metaphorical pillows.

Abby sets out Pete’s masterpiece of a charcuterie on the coffee table, and we all sit on the plush rug around the tree. Abby sits by Pete with Coop in the middle and Dane by me. I’m directly across from Abby, which is the best seat in the house, but I have to see Pete, too. The guilt has a way of creeping in whenever they’re both in my line of sight.

Coop and Dane are the first to mess up the perfectly arranged meats and cheeses, and I follow their lead. We’re basically family now, so we don’t bother with little plates and snack directly from the wooden board.

“Who’s the big one for?” Coop asks, wiping his hands on his jeans.

Pete grins at Abby. “The biggest gift has to go to the smallest person here, of course,” he answers.

“What’d you do?” she asks him.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.” Pete reaches over to slide the box over to her, but he winces and cradles his ribs. His Achilles’ heel is apparently his ribs these days.

“Hope those heal up soon,” I say to him.

“Dude, me too. Bruised ribs are brutal.”

“I’ll help with that,” Coop says. He leans past Abby and Pete and slides the box over to her. “It’s lighter than I expected.”

“Have they taken a look at your ribs?” Dane asks Pete.

He nods. “Yeah, but they just need to heal. Kind of hard when I get tackled every week,” Pete answers. “At least they haven’t pulled me. Yet.”

“We need you for playoffs. I’ll make sure you don’t get sacked,” Coop adds.

“Thanks. Some of those defenders are fucking brutal.”