All I Want for Christmas Is You (Short Story) Read Online Free Page B

want to think about it, and he was pretty damn good at not thinking about the things he wanted to forget.
    “And now you,” he joked and pulled Joanne, laughing and swatting his hands away, under the mistletoe, where he very carefully kissed her cheek.
    “Well, look at you, so fancy,” she said, touching his tie. “This is quite a celebration, isn’t it?”
    Maddy had told her parents that she wanted to have Billy over to celebrate this summer’s draft, Christmas, and her birthday all rolled into one.
    “It sure is,” he said. “Smells good in here. I can’t wait.”
    “Well,” she said, walking back into the kitchen, where it didn’t really smell all that great. “I’m making curry! Can you believe it?”
    “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s delicious,” he said. The kitchen was about the biggest room in the little house. A few years ago Billy had helped Maddy’s dad, Dougie, knock down a wall so that they could have the kitchen and casual dining room in the same space. Then they’d put in new white cabinets and an eating area with a pink vinyl banquette against the wall. There was a big window at the end of the table, overlooking the backyard and part of the garage.
    “Have a seat,” Joanne said. “Would you like something to drink?” Her eyes twinkled. Really, sometimes she looked so much like Maddy it was eerie. “Doug bought a case of Yuengling.”
    “Beer?” He laughed. “Mrs. Baumgarten, are you offering me a beer?”
    “Seems like a boy who’s been drafted into the NHL ought to have a proper celebration.”
    “I’m good with iced tea,” he said, knowing there would be a pitcher in the fridge. Joanne got him a glass.
    “Where’s Dad?” Maddy asked, following them into the kitchen.
    “Waiting for dinner.” Dougie walked in, tall and wiry, his face always serious, like whatever he was thinking about sort of made his head hurt. He wore workpants. He always wore workpants.
    “Dougie.” Joanne chastised her husband and lifted the lid on a pot on the stove. Fragrant steam filled the air.
    “I thought dinner was at five,” Doug said.
    “Sorry we’re late, Daddy,” Maddy said.
    “Doug.” Billy stepped up and shook the man’s hand. Billy had been calling him Doug since he was a kid skating at the rink where Mr. Baumgarten worked.
    “Billy.” Doug’s handshake was quick. Firm. No-nonsense.
    “So? Can we eat?” Doug asked.
    Joanne tasted the liquid on the wooden spoon, did a little shimmy in excitement, and announced that dinner was ready. Doug opened the fridge and grabbed two cans of beer, handing one to Billy.
    “You’re going to want this to wash it down,” he whispered. Billy smiled and took the beer.
    “I’ll help,” Maddy said, staying in the kitchen with her mother. Doug led the way to the dining room, all done up with Joanne’s fancy red and gold dishes. She had ribbons hanging from the chandelier and the centerpiece was made of Christmas tree branches. It looked like something you’d see in a catalog.
    Billy turned back and looked at Maddy before rounding the corner.
    “Talk to him,” she mouthed.
    Right. Talk to him.
    Doug sat down at the head of the table and cracked open his beer. Billy sat in what had become his spot, across from Maddy’s chair. He did not crack his beer. He did, however, break out into a sticky sweat.
    Christ , he thought, I’m twenty years old. Not a kid.
    “We’re real proud of you, son,” Dougie said. “Joanne and I, the whole neighborhood … real proud.” He lifted his beer can out in a salute to him. And Billy nodded, feeling flushed and nervous.
    “Thank you, Doug. Really.” He pushed his silverware closer to his plate and then away. He wished they could just talk about hockey. That’s what they usually did. He opened his beer and took a big gulp that didn’t go down easily. “Sir … ah … there’s something I need to ask—”
    “Don’t,” Doug said, the word a bullet through Billy’s chest. Speechless,