A Wright Christmas - K.A. Linde Page 0,57

off.”

“Why is that?” I poured another shot.

Annie yanked it out of my grasp and tossed it into the sink. “Because at least then, you felt something. You were mad. You ran around the field like you were on fire. You demolished our opponent. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Great. I’m still a good soccer player, even when I’m fucked up.”

“Stop it,” she snapped, and I met her hardened green gaze. “I get being upset. I get wanting to mope around about this, but the person who wrote this?” She grabbed the picture and waved it in my face. “She’s still out there, and she still loves you.”

I snatched the picture out of her hand. “The person who wrote this left me sixteen years ago.” I dropped the picture into the trash. “She’s gone, Annie. She’s gone.”

Then, I brushed past her and back out into the living room to watch my daughter open a few more presents that she didn’t need.

Christmas wasn’t a good day.

Of course, it was just like any other Christmas. And I was glad to have it with my daughter and my family. We opened presents and cooked dinner and celebrated the holiday. But…I was in a dark place.

My mom seemed so worried about me that she even offered to take Aly for the night. But if I didn’t have Aly, then what would I do with myself?

I knew that I sounded depressed about what had happened with Peyton. And I was. I didn’t know how to stop it. I didn’t know how to make it better without her. I’d just started thinking that there was something else in this life other than my daughter’s existence.

Now, I was back at square one.

I kissed my parents good night and ignored the concerned looks from Annie.

“Night, Grandma!” Aly said, hugging my mom. “Night, Grandpa and Aunt Annie.”

Aly gave everyone sloppy kisses, and we waved from the front door as they drove away.

“Daddy,” Aly said as I closed the door.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Can I stay up with you tonight?”

“No, honey, you have to go to bed.”

“But I want to stay up with you. I promise to be a good girl.” She reached up and took my hand in hers and smiled brightly. “You look sad, Daddy. I can cheer you up.”

I swallowed back the lump in my throat and then nodded. I hoisted Aly up into my arms. “All right, you win. Just tonight, because it’s Christmas, you can stay up with me. Why don’t we turn on a movie?”

“Frozen!” she gasped.

“What?” I said in mock shock. “Do you like Frozen?”

“Daddy, don’t be silly,” she said with a giggle.

I carried her back into the living room and set her down while I turned on Frozen. For a solid hour, I just sat with my daughter as we watched the movie for what had to be the thousandth time this year. But I didn’t even care. It was just nice to have her snuggled up against me.

Aly yawned as big as I’d ever seen her, and I could feel her weight start to slacken as she leaned into me. I had a feeling she’d fall asleep on me out here. She’d probably still be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow.

“Daddy,” she whispered through another yawn.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Is Miss Peyton still going to come over to make Christmas cookies?”

My heart constricted. We’d had to cancel cookies when Aly had her nightmare day last week. But…she still thought it was going to happen. How did I begin to tell her that Peyton was gone?

“I don’t…I don’t think so, honey,” I told her gently.

“Are you sure?” Her big brown eyes looked up at me.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Why not?”

“Peyton went home.”

“We could go to her house,” Aly suggested as if it were that easy.

“I think that’s a great idea, Aly Cat, but Peyton doesn’t live here. She lives in New York City. She’s really far away, and it’s not easy for her to come and make cookies with you.”

Aly stuck out her bottom lip. “Well, tell her to come back.”

“I can’t,” I whispered.

“Then…can we go to New York City, Daddy?” Aly asked through another yawn.

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, I’d like to go see her.” Her eyes fluttered closed. “She’s really nice and she dances and we should make cookies. I want to be just like Miss Peyton when I grow up.”

I clenched my jaw and tried not to let the wave of pain blast through me. Aly meant nothing by it. Not like my parents or Annie. She wasn’t