Filed to story: Luci Forrester and Easton Reed: Hockey Romance Story
**Flashback:**
“Did you all enjoy the light show? It was truly spectacular, wasn’t it?” Mrs. Rachel beamed as she turned around in the front seat, her eyes sparkling with joy. “We’ll park now and head into that tent over there to meet Santa and sip on some hot chocolate.”
A wave of excitement washed over me. I had never seen Santa before, and at six years old, I was blissfully unaware of the magic that awaited me. I was bundled up in the warm clothes Mrs. Rachel had provided that very morning-soft and new, a comforting embrace against the chill of the evening. As we stepped into the tent, Mr. Barry announced he would take Sam and Lana to stand in line. Mrs. Rachel took my hand gently, leading me to the hot cocoa station. “I could use your help carrying it, Luci,” she said, her smile inviting. I nodded eagerly as I heard the familiar booming laugh of the man in the red suit. A memory flickered in my mind; one of the other kids from my last home had told me that if you visited Santa and told him your wishes, he would grant them on Christmas Eve. I had never received a gift from him, but then again, I had never sat on his lap, so how could he know what I wanted?
I helped her carry a tray filled with steaming cups, and she had even picked up some donuts for us to enjoy. We found a small table, and as I looked around, I noticed her waving to Mr. Barry, who had just arrived with Sam and Lana. “So, did you tell him what you wanted?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
“Yes, Mama! He said we’ve both been very good this year!” Sam replied, his voice ringing with pride. My heart sank momentarily. Had they already seen Santa?
“You both have been wonderful. I think this Christmas is going to be something special,” Mr. Barry chimed in, his smile wide and genuine.
I thought to myself, They’ll take me to see him after we finish our hot chocolate. But to my dismay, that moment never came. Instead, Mrs. Rachel had me help her gather up the trash before we made our way to the small gift shop.
“Go ahead and pick out two toys,” she instructed before settling down at a nearby table. I trailed behind Lana, watching as she picked up a massive stuffed unicorn and a fluffy polar bear. They were nearly as large as I was! Mrs. Rachel had said two, so I carefully considered my choices. I couldn’t recall ever having a stuffed animal that I could call my own. After much deliberation, I finally decided on a polar bear and a cute little penguin. They were plush and inviting, and I couldn’t wait to cuddle with them at night. Lana had a mountain of stuffed animals on her bed, and she snuggled with them every evening.
We raced back to find Sam standing in line with Mr. Barry, who was holding a huge dragon and a dinosaur, both looking incredibly soft. “Oh, Lana, those are fantastic!” Mrs. Rachel exclaimed. But then she turned to me, her expression shifting to one of sympathy. “Oh, Luci dear, I’m so sorry. I should have mentioned that the two toys are only for real kids. Here, let me take those so we can return them. But look, I got this for you.” She gently pulled the polar bear and penguin from my grasp and handed me a tiny cat, no larger than my hand. “There you go, Luci. Don’t lose him because that’s all you get. We can attach him to your backpack for school.” Her smile remained unchanged, but I felt the weight of her words pressing down on me. I stood there, staring at the small cat, as her voice faded into the background. “I guess I should have told her that real kids get a real Christmas. Santa doesn’t exactly visit orphans.”
**End of Flashback**
I return to the present, looking at Sydney, who is now crying angry tears. The faces of the Traylors blur in my mind as I watch her. “Let’s put them in Cole’s bed first before I dive deeper into this,” I suggest, lifting him carefully while she picks up Barrett. We make our way back to the game room, where I can keep an ear on the monitor.
“I remember feeling the tears welling up in my eyes, but I fought to keep them at bay. I wasn’t a real kid, and that was the reason Santa had never come to visit me. It was also why I didn’t get to speak to him that night. I don’t think I slept a wink when we returned to their house. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, lost in my thoughts. A few weeks later, Christmas arrived, and I clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, he would bring me that penguin and polar bear. I wished for them every night and even included them in the letter our teacher had us write to him. On Christmas morning, I followed Lana into the living room, my heart brimming with hope. I had a stocking filled with candy, a set of markers, and some watercolors. But there was no pile of presents for me. Instead, they gave me a sweater, some jeans, a dress, and a new pair of boots-things I needed, yes, but nothing that felt magical. All I had was the markers, a coloring book, and a sketch pad. I learned quickly what to expect, especially since I would be with them for the next Christmas. Can you believe I pretended to be sick the following year when Mrs. Rachel mentioned visiting Santa? They had to leave me with the grandmother, who was meaner than a snake, but it felt better than facing the disappointment of feeling invisible. The next family I stayed with didn’t celebrate Christmas with gifts, so that year passed in relative ease, unnoticed. Even when I moved in with Janet six months later, there was no grand Christmas celebration. Money was tight with her on a single income. She did her best to make the holiday special, but she wasn’t into Santa or those drive-through parks where he made appearances. She explained to Betsy and me, once we were older, that she understood how foster kids could harbor resentment toward the holiday. She didn’t want to shatter our spirits further by promoting the Santa tradition. We received a new outfit and a coat for Christmas, along with one fun item and a few little stocking stuffers. By then, I had learned not to ask for anything. The pain of disappointment was too much to bear. It took nearly four years before I mustered the courage to ask for something specific-a sewing machine-so I could fix my clothes if needed. Birthdays didn’t count until I met you and your family, and even then, I only asked for a cake and nothing more. One of the other kids had once said there was no need to waste money on throwaway kids, and that phrase stuck with me for ages. I never imagined I’d end up with Janet forever, or that you would become my lifelong friend. Or that your family would sometimes treat me as their third child.” I feel her arms wrap around me, her silent sobs echoing in the air.
“It’s alright, Syd. I’ve come to terms with it, and I’m okay now. I understand that those people were not meant to be foster parents; they were just terrible individuals. But my dislike for Santa remains. For kids like me, or those with parents who neglect or harm them, he serves as a painful reminder of our worthlessness. That we are excluded from the benevolence of this magical figure who supposedly rewards good behavior with gifts. Teachers make us write letters to him, which only deepens the disappointment when Christmas morning arrives without a single gift. To a child, it’s incomprehensible; they don’t grasp what they did wrong. Some kids assume they are bad, which can lead to more behavioral issues, while others, like me, conclude that they simply aren’t deserving. I won’t rain on anyone’s parade or tell them they shouldn’t celebrate Santa-everyone has their own traditions. But I do wish they would reconsider the school letters because every child is required to attend school. There are kids in abusive homes, kids with parents who can barely afford food, let alone presents. The list goes on. Let the parents handle it if they choose to. But for Cole and Barrett, Santa is a source of joy, and that brings me happiness. You know I adore seeing kids happy.”
“Damn it, Luci, no wonder you feel this way. I had a feeling it was painful. I don’t understand how you turned out the way you did, so kind-hearted and not a total bitter person,” she says, her voice thick with emotion.
“It was painful, no doubt. But I’ve matured, Syd, and I’ve come to understand. It’s a grand, magical holiday tradition. Like I said, to each their own. Some psychologist would probably charge me a fortune to say that’s when I learned to roll with whatever life throws my way. I believed I wasn’t worthy of much thought, which made me vulnerable. Honestly, it taught me that sometimes I just had to lift myself up and keep moving forward. To find joy in whatever comes my way and realize that something better might not always be on the horizon. Unlike the fairy tales I watched on repeat, life doesn’t work that way; you can’t demand what you want from a fairy godmother or some mythical figure. You have to create your own magic and share that happiness with others.
You have the choice to give someone else the power to shape your happiness or your pain. That’s another reason why it stung so deeply when Marshall betrayed me. I had let him in, confiding my secrets and vulnerabilities. I was the one who gave him the power to hurt me. That’s what burned the most-the realization that I had chosen poorly in whom to trust after all those hard lessons I learned growing up. It took me a few months of listening to you, Banning, and Janet to shift my mindset, to understand that he was the one at fault for manipulating me. For lying to me, using me, and not giving me the full truth to make a real choice. But that’s also when I realized I didn’t truly love him. He hurt me, yes, but he didn’t break me. I remember a quote that love is about giving someone the power to destroy you but trusting them not to. That sentiment rings so true. Marshall simply hurt me.”
Sydney gazes at me, her expression softening as she processes my words. “But Easton can destroy you. Am I right?”
Syd’s question strikes me like a bolt of lightning, leaving me momentarily breathless.
“Nevermind, don’t answer that. That’s for you to tell him first, not me.” She dismisses my thoughts with a wave of her hand, as if brushing away an annoying fly.
“I really should share what happened on our date last night and the sweet thing he did for me today.” The words tumble out before I can stop them, my mind racing back to the moment Easton left. I had barely settled into sleep before exhaustion took over, leaving no room for a text or call to Syd. As I recount the events, I can see her eyes grow wider with each revelation. “Luci Lou, good for you! It’s about time you realized that Marshall was completely lacking in everything you deserve.”
“Absolutely true. It was never like that with him.” I bite my lip, lost in thought. “Syd, do you think we’re moving too fast? I really don’t want him to think I’m like those bunnies….” My voice trembles slightly, the nerves creeping in as I confide in her.
“You aren’t like them at all. Those girls are only interested in a quick fling, hoping to snag the hockey captain for a night of bragging rights. You want to be with Easton because he treats you with kindness, and you genuinely enjoy spending time together. The guy who bombarded my phone for days, trying to understand your ADHD and how to support you, is not the type to rush things. He could have taken his time, learning gradually from you. Instead, he not only asked me everything I knew but also took the initiative to research on his own. He asked me questions afterward, too. I told you he’s all in for you. He’s a good guy, Luci. You can see it in the way he interacts with Cole and Barrett.”
Her words spark a thought in my mind, making my scattered brain focus. “You know, I thought about something today. Easton seemed genuinely remorseful that Julian and Deacon were allowed to mess with me. But I realized they always showed up and got involved without actually insulting or touching me. I usually managed to slip away while they were busy taunting the other jerks.”
Sydney’s eyes light up with curiosity. “I’ve always wondered about the hoodie incident. You mentioned there wasn’t a speck of yogurt on his hoodie, just a couple of spots on his jeans. If you’re right, then he gave you that hoodie because your shirt was soaked and see-through. That makes him a lot more thoughtful than we initially realized. You should definitely ask him about it. Do you still have that hoodie? I think you should return it to him and see how he reacts.”
“Of course, I still have it….” I take a moment to remember where I stashed it in my closet, a smile creeping onto my face.
Syd turns to me fully, her expression serious. “Now, let’s return to the original question. Too fast or not? That decision rests solely with you, Luci. If you want to sleep with him tomorrow, that’s your choice. If you prefer to wait six months, go for it, but good luck with that because after last night, I don’t see you making it. What feels right for you is what truly matters. It’s not about anyone else’s opinions. And you know where I stand on this. My parents got married just three and a half months after they met, and look how deliriously happy they are. My mom always said that when you find your person, don’t count dates as milestones. Count moments. The moments that are real, where life unfolds and they show you what you mean to them. Anyone can impress you on one date but treat you like absolute garbage afterward. Ahem, Marshall Soames category. Or they can have one bad date and then treat you like a queen the rest of the time they’re around you. It’s not fair because you’ve had two amazing dates with Easton. He’s spent time pursuing you, learning what you need and like. He’s given you gifts that actually mean something. Hello, a new planner to help you stay organized. And let’s not forget the devoted boyfriend who texted you during every class to make sure you stayed alert today. He even brought you breakfast because he knew you overslept. That’s like thirty moments already if we count each text. He might not be the best at romance itself, but all of that is incredibly sweet and romantic in my eyes because it shows he genuinely cares for you.” She beams at me, her enthusiasm infectious.
“Nothing is too fast if it’s the right speed for you,” she concludes.
“Did you just come up with that last bit?” I ask her, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.
“Sure did! I should probably get Barrett home now; Banning has texted me twice already.” There’s a hint of disappointment in her voice. Maybe I should invite Jackson to the light parade this weekend, I contemplate.
“Thanks, Sydney. You’ve always been the best. If you ever need help getting rid of enemies at a pig farm, count me in, no matter how late it is.” I pull her into a tight hug, feeling grateful for her unwavering support.
“Right back at you, babe. And tell that handsome man of yours that my brother is over the moon to attend another hockey game. Or maybe just avoid mentioning Banning altogether.” She chuckles softly. “Unless you want to make him jealous.”
“Goodnight, Syd.” I call out to her after helping Barrett into the car, the little guy already deep in slumber. He sleeps like a rock, and I can feel his weight as I buckle him in.
Just ten minutes later, Easton pulls up, flanked by the other three. “He wanted to see Santa already?” he asks, a bemused smile dancing on his lips.
“Yeah. Barrett and Cole are definitely up to something.” I reply, leaning in for a slow kiss from him before the others join us.
“I can answer that. They want to ask Santa for a mom for Barrett,” he says, his tone tinged with sadness. “I forgot to mention it last night.” Kingston and Becker step inside, waving at me.
“Oh no. Not an impossible wish,” I groan, feeling a sense of dread wash over me as Kingston gives me a sympathetic nod.
“Yes, maybe you can give Banning and Sydney a heads-up,” he suggests, scratching the back of his head as the back door swings open and their dad walks in. I instinctively step away from Easton, just in case.
“I’ll call her on my way home. Cole went to bed easily. See you tomorrow.” I wave goodbye to him and the others, my heart feeling a little heavy.