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I thought about losing my best friend.

Coach.

Mrs. B.

The only family I've ever really had.

So I lied.

One sentence to protect the family that took me in. One sentence that made the woman I love feel like she didn’t belong in my life.

And Delaney heard every fucking word. I scrub a hand over my face.

Nice work, Bishop.

Captain of a professional hockey team. Can read a defense before the puck crosses the blue line. Can't figure out how to tell his best friend he's in love with his sister.

A door closes somewhere down the hall. Then comes the unmistakable sound of Declan yelling, “Ma! Where's the coffee?”

“Where it always is!” Mrs. B calls back.

I hear a cabinet slam. “Found it!”

I shake my head. Some things never change.

I climb out of bed, pull on a pair of sweats and an old North Pines sweatshirt, and head downstairs.

The smell hits me halfway down. Coffee. Bacon. Something sweet cooking on the stove. Christmas morning at the Becketts.

For a long time, it was the best part of my year.

Still is.

I just hope I haven't managed to ruin it.

“Look who finally decided to join us.” Declan is sitting at the kitchen island in plaid pajama pants and a St. Louis Archers T-shirt, stealing a piece of bacon from the platter beside the stove.

I glance at the clock. “It's eight-thirty.”

“Exactly. Half the day's gone.”

“You've been awake for twenty minutes.”

“Productive twenty minutes.”

I eye the bacon in his hand. “Clearly.”

He flips me off.

Coach sits at the kitchen table, reading something on his phone, a mug of coffee beside him.

“Merry Christmas, son.”

“Merry Christmas, Coach.”

“Sleep all right?”

“Yeah.”