Page 13 of He Has Santa

“Can’t use a pen on your shirt, son.” I slip a sharpie from my pocket and hold it up. “How about if we use this? It should last longer and show up better,” I say.

“Cool.” The kid beams, and a couple of others who look like his friends line up.

Nicky watches while June sips her the hot chocolate, also watching surreptitiously. After a second, Nicky tugs on my jacket.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” she says. I laugh. She’s a pip. I’m so smitten with her that I hope June is up to being the disciplinarian because I have a feeling I’ll be one of those wrapped daddies. Right around her little finger.

“I’m signing autographs. Want one on your shirt too?”

“Why would I want that?” she says.

The kid standing waiting his turn says to her, “Are you kidding? Don’t you know who this is? He’s Logan Jones, the new star defenseman for the Boston Brawlers.” He puffs up his bony chest with indignance as Nicky looks from him to me and back again.

“No, he’s not—he’s my uncle.” The boy doesn’t bother to argue, and when I finish, the crowd of boys runs off excited to share their news.

June eyes me as I slip my sharpie back into my jacket. “You always carry a sharpie?” she laughs.

“Usually. When I go out in public.”

“Mommy, that kid says Logan is a star hockey player for the Boston Brawlers.” Nicky finally breaks her contemplative silence in a rush of outrage.

“I heard,” June half laughs. I’m not as amused, but she’d inevitably find out about my celebrity status. June raises a brow at me, wordlessly requesting permission to explain, and I nod.

“It’s true, Nicky,” she says. “Logan is a famous pro hockey player. Think you can deal with that?”

Nicky’s eyes go wide the way only kids can do it, and then she lets out such a high-pitched squeal that I need to look around and see if any dogs come running.

“Really? This is great!” She’s jumping up and down, so I take the hot chocolate from her hand and put it on the small table. She twirls around to me.

“Does this mean we can get tickets to a game?”

“You bet. You can have tickets to every single game if you want.”

She lunges at me, and I catch her as she gives me a big hug. It’s motivated by my so-called hockey star status, but I don’t care. It feels so good; I’ll take it any time.

“You’re the best, Uncle Logan.”

I’m not exactly comfortable with the uncle tag—in fact, it sounds like nails on a chalkboard—but if it helps us bond, I’ll let it go.

“I bet your other uncles aren’t getting you special tickets to tomorrow night’s Brawler’s game.”

“If you’re my best uncle, I should get front row tickets, right?”

“Nicky— “June admonishes.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” I flash a grin at June, who rolls her eyes.

“Of course,” June says. “That would be lots of fun.”

I know she means the opposite. It’s not that June dislikes hockey, but she was never a big fan of the sport. She was truly and purely a fan of me more than hockey—one of the things I love about her. Or loved back then…

Maybe I still do. My chest pounding, I go for broke.

“I’ll arrange two rink-side tickets for tomorrow night’s game at the will-call box.”

“Really?” Nicky jumps from her chair, almost spilling her drink, and launches herself at me in a hug. Feeling those small arms wrap around my neck and hold on tight does something to my insides that I haven’t felt in a very long time. Six years if I’m counting. I hug her back, careful not to squeeze too tight, and watch Junie over Nicky’s shoulder.

She’s smiling, and I see a glitter of tears in her eyes. She’s feeling the same thing I am. I know it. It’s in her long sigh, her sadness mixed with longing and joy. Same emotions overtake me as Nicky let’s go.