Boot(s)

46 - Boot

Bobby O'Callahan

"Good morning!"

I had kicked open the bedroom door and it was in danger of falling back on me if I didn't move quickly enough. I sidestepped the danger zone, eyeing the twin cups of hot chocolate like they were newborns.

"Bo." I was busy staring at the sloshing TJ Maxx Christmas mugs, so I could only imagine Pete pushing himself up into a seated position, that raspy morning groan telling me he had barely just drifted awake.

When I reached our bed, I held his cup out toward his outstretched arms. "Or should I say Mr. Claus?" He was wiggling his eyebrows, a smirk edging at the corners of his lips.

"Merry Christmas to you too," I told him, making sure I held my peppermint hot chocolate away from the bed when I bent down to kiss him. I pulled away a few seconds later, suddenly itching and desperate to get him out of bed, but his hand on the back of neck kept me from going anywhere. "Not so fast!" He pecked my lips once more. "It's Christmas!"

I laughed as he let me go, bringing the hot chocolate to his lips. "I need you to get up and get changed," I told him, feeling the lightest I had in weeks. "Your gift requires a small amount of travel."

"What?" I smiled. His lips were coated in whipped cream. "You did one big gift? Shit, I did a lot of small ones. I knew we should have clarified this. Could've gotten you a new boat and saved the postal workers a whole lot of trouble."

I bent down to wipe his lips with my thumb. "I'm going to love whatever you give me no matter what."

He scoffed, tossing the comforter off his waist. "I know. You're an angel. I could put dog food in your stocking and you'd think it was creative and different."

I laughed, taking his mug from his hands as he pushed himself out of bed to grab his leg, strewn on the floor last night in a heated spiked-apple-cider-induced craze. "Should I pack a bag?" He eyed me suspiciously from the floor, wearing nothing but his boxers and now, a hunk of metal. "Wear my Falcons jersey?"

I shrugged. "If you want to."

He tilted his head, eyes squinting like he wanted to get up and shake something of value out of me. I smiled, toothless. I wasn't budging.

"You bitch," he grumbled, pulling himself up by the corner of the nightstand. "Isn't it the season of giving?"

I bit my tongue, trying not to let even the hint of annoyance show on my face. This was the biggest surprise I had pulled off – almost pulled off – in my entire 31 years. His damn attitude wasn't going to ruin it.

"Just get changed," I told him, pinching the bridge of my nose. I had already taken my migraine meds, but I felt the twinge of something rap against the front of my skull as if asking permission. "I'll have a peanut butter bagel ready for you in the car."

His eyes traveled from my converse all the way up to my raised eyebrows as he slowly stepped toward the door. "As you should, Cal. As you should."

After a reluctant change and a few more muttered snide comments about all my presents waiting under our tree, I finally managed to get Pete into a winter jacket and boots and in the car.

Before we pulled out of the driveway, I grabbed one of Millie's bandanas from my pocket. "I'm sorry, I can't compromise the surprise. We gotta blindfold you."

His entire demeanor changed. He lit up like the God Damn Christmas tree my presents were "collecting dust under."  Eyes wide, hands clasped together. You would have thought this man was a four-year-old child meeting the beefy, polyester suit-clad mall Santa for the first time.

"Oh my god, it really is a big surprise. I can not wait! OW! Too tight!" I muttered an apology, loosened the tie, and squeezed his hand, laughing at his childish absurdity.

"Yes, babe, it is really a surprise."

I backed out of the driveway, turning up the radio. Pete sat next to me in the passenger's seat, wiggling his torso and tapping his feet, humming along to Jingle Bell Rock between bites of his bagel, blindfold and all, like this was exactly who he was in front of everyone he'd ever met. Like he didn't wear Kevlar for a living. The whole thing made my chest constrict. Tighter. And tighter.

"Alright," I told him, cutting the engine right as he was about to hit the high note of Mariah's All I Want For Christmas is You.

"Yesssssss!!!" He dropped the note and pounded his fists in the air like my Rover was the Nicks arena. "We didn't drive that far. Are we actually getting a puppy? Is it at Jessie's? Another Lab? Huh? Bobby?"

I unbuckled his seat belt, trying to keep myself from shaking with laughter. "Relax, Peter! I'm right here. And you'll find out in a minute. Just breathe for a sec, alright? I'll come around and get you."

I had jogged around to his side of the car, but he was already bouncing in the seat with impatience when I reached him. "Alright," I grabbed one hand and guided him out carefully. "There's a curb here. Yup, just there. Okay, got it?" He nodded. As his head bobbled, the bandana began slipping. "Okay. Ready?"

"I'm dying over here, pal."

I resisted the urge to perform a ceremonious count down and gently pulled the blindfold away from Peter's eyes. What I couldn't resist though, when he took it all in, was a soft, almost whisper of: "Welcome home, Pete."

After a few seconds of nothing but the December wind whipping between us, he reached an arm out, his fingers tightly gripping the fabric of my flannel sleeve. He didn't say anything, so I took that as my cue to let him observe.

The property was sprawling, but the house was more of a ranch than anything. Yes, I had built a few bedrooms upstairs, over the kitchen, but that was it. Everything else was on one level: hardly any stairs.

The landscaping wasn't finished, but the fence was up and the shingles were in. I had chosen a very light olive green for the exterior, with a sandy weathered roof to match. White trim and big broad windows were a feature I knew Pete would like. A porch wrapped around the front and towards the carport and garage. White pillars held up the roof that slanted over the porch. If I craned my neck around by corner by the carport, I could see that my team had made the finishing touches on the court in the back that I didn't have the heart to take out of the plans.

Peter squeezed my arm tighter. Still, he said nothing.

"It looks big, I know," I told him honestly. Because it did. The lot was near four acres, and the house was a ranch: long in width but not much height. It looked like it took up a lot of space, but really, it had all we needed and nothing more. "But it's just a ranch. Nothing special. But you should see the back. Millie's going to have a field day on that land."

He nodded. I didn't think he could speak. "So, we'll take the tour then?" I started up the stone path that led to the front door, linking my arm through Pete's. I could feel him walking next to me, but still, he hadn't replied. His breathing came in deep sigh-like gusts that I could hear through the rustle in the fallen leaves. I craned my neck to get a better look at him. As soon as I did, he turned away from my face, his eyes finding something over his shoulder, his front teeth sunk deep in his bottom lip.

After all this time, all we had been through. And he still wouldn't let me see him cry.

_

Merry Christmas :) Can't wait to finish this moment. Oh boy.