THE NEXT MORNING, I work out for two hours before showering and heading to the tavern at eleven. The first thing I notice is the transformation the place has gone through. Christmas decorations are everywhere. An enormous decorated tree stands in an alcove by the fireplace. It depresses me. Christmas always depresses me.

The first Christmas after my mom died was hard. Joel and I made frozen pizza and watched games on television. No tree or decorations. My mom loved Christmas, and spoiled us no matter how old we were. Losing her in a car accident took the holiday spirit right out of us, and pizza and ball games became the norm. Joel and I kept up the "do nothing" tradition until two years ago, when Cami came into his life. I stayed in my room and let them have their holiday together, only coming down for the dinner Cami prepared. I ignored the minimal decorations that Cami insisted on, and went back up to my room as soon as I could. Last year, they invited me to their house, but I didn't go. I had asked Danny a few days before what she was doing for Christmas, and she told me she had plans with friends. I didn't question her. I opened a bottle of whiskey on Christmas day and drank until I passed out.

I finish my cursory look around the tavern and grab a booth. It takes all of two minutes for Estella to march over. The look on her face lets me know she isn't happy.

"You're one of the bosses, so I can't very well kick you out, but I'll be damned if I wait on you." She turns around and storms off.

There are only a few people in the tavern, but I wouldn't care if the entire place was packed. "I care about her, Estella." I call loudly enough for everyone to hear.

Estella stops and pivots. She stares for what seems like an hour before marching back over and taking the seat across from me. "You have a mighty peculiar way of showing it, Van Stelson."

I meet her eyes and hold them. "That's why I'm here. I need your help."

Her stare grows more intense. "You'll get a lecture first, and then and only then will I think about helping you."

I take my ass-whuppin'. I refrain from giving excuses and let Estella wind down. "I told you that girl loves you, and this is what you do?" Estella keeps going back to this one point.

It's finally my turn. "Yes, I screwed up big time. She's got me so wound up that, whenever I'm around her, I can't think straight. How do I fix it?"

She studies me. "Why exactly do you care about her?"

I don't even need to think about my answer. "She's special, and I'm a damn fool for not seeing it sooner."

Estella curls her fingers together and rests her chin on top of them. The look she gives me is deadly. "So tell me about the blow job."

"Fuck," I sit back against the seat as far as I can get. "I'm not telling you about the blow job. Fuck."

Her eyes go hotter. "You just did."

I need to calm Estella down, because I didn't wear the cup my brother suggested. "That getting out is my fault. You know Danny- she's a nice girl."

Estella's face changes instantly, and she laughs loud enough to turn heads. "Any woman who can bring you down, Van Stelson, is not a nice girl. Danny has enough spice and fire to take you on, and always has. Try falling to your knees, because it's the only thing that's going to break through her anger now that you've messed up so badly." Estella slides over and starts to rise.

I'm dumbfounded. "That's your advice?"

"The two of you can play dodgeball for another year, if you want. If that's not what you want, then knees are your only option."

Fuck me. This entire relationship thing sucks.

That night, I send Danny a text.

One date.

A few minutes later-

No.

Just one.

Longer this time.

No. Leave me alone.

It might sound childish, but my reply is her favorite word.

No.

The next evening is a replay of the same. After her reply, I call Jeff. "You in the doghouse, or did Danny ask you to pick her up from the airport?"

"Doghouse."

I smile in satisfaction. "Good; you won't be in as much trouble when I pick her up."

Jeff sighs like a little girl into the phone. "If you make my one and only and best secretary quit, I'll find a douche attorney to give your team's account to."

"Don't worry about it; I've got this covered." I disconnect after that because I don't want Jeff asking how I have it covered. I take a long, hot shower. When I lather myself up, I'm glad to see my dick still works after Danny's knee connected. I refuse to do anything about it, though. I owe Danny an orgasm first.

Her plane is arriving at two in the afternoon. I get there at one and wait until, according to the marquee, the plane has landed. I continue waiting. No sign of Danny after a mad rush of people come past the security checkpoint, so I head to the marquee and look up the next flight. Two hours. I wait. No Danny.

Somehow in the rush of holiday air traffic, she's changed her ticket. I call her cell and receive no answer. I send a text.

I'm at the airport. I've been here since one. Are you home or are you on a later flight? I won't leave until I hear back from you.

It takes fifteen minutes.

I'm home. Leave me alone!!!

I knew she wouldn't be able to stand me sitting at the airport, no matter how angry she is. It takes forever to get to her apartment. Why am I not surprised? No big, blue Ford.

I head home to regroup.

***

Now it's Monday. I'm at my office at The Slam, and I'm pretty sure Danny's back at work. I call Jeff.

"Did she come in?" I ask without preamble.

"Yes, but she gave me the look of death and closed her door after telling me not to interrupt her."

I swear Jeff's voice quivers. I'd tell him to grow a set, but I understand. I end the call and go back to putting my new plan into action. I've decided to lay low for a few days. Danny expects me to show up today or even tomorrow, when she knows I have the day off. That's not going to happen because I want to catch her when she has her guard down.

At noon, I walk over to the gym to get a workout in. Three of my teammates are there when I arrive, and I figure they came in the back way. They all have keys, and can work out whenever their schedules allow.

"Hey, what's up?" I say with a head nod in their direction. I'm not feeling cheerful, but it's unexpectedly good to see them.

Machines stop, weights clang, and three sets of eyes turn my way. I'm heading toward the free weights, but stop. No one said "hey," or "hello," or even "fuck you", for that matter. "What's up?" I ask, even though I have a pretty good idea.

Mike moves forward. He's the only one of the three who's married. He should also be at work. "Are you fucking around with Danny?"

Mike is the one who kept my brother and me from killing each other over Cami. He's a big dude, with a bit of a beer belly and lots of hard muscle thrown in. He takes no crap on the field or off of it.

"If by fucking around, are you asking if I care about her as more than a friend? The answer is yes, I do, so please don't use the word 'fucking' and Danny's name in the same sentence again, or you and me will have a problem."

Mike's eyes bug out. "Does Danny know this piece of information?"

I look at him questioningly.

He expands the question. "The information about you wanting more than friendship?"

I look at the other two guys, and prepare myself for the shit they are about to give me. "If I could get within two feet of her, she'd know."

And it begins. Mike breaks first and the others join in. Their laughter is as funny as Joel's and Estella's. Mike adds between laughs, "The great Van Stelson meets his match." That has them bent practically double.

They don't get it. I'm standing ten feet from the try line, without my teammates to back me up. I begin my workout and ignore them.

***

It's Friday evening, and I'm sitting in front of Danny's apartment. Her truck is in its spot. It's been a long fucking week and, as much as I put up a good front and took more and more shit off the guys, I need Danny to let me in.

I walk up the stairs to the second floor and approach her door. I hear the television. After one deep breath, I knock.

There are three options for how this will go down: One, she won't answer; two, she opens the door but won't let me in; three, she opens the door and lets me in. It's colder than shit out here and, for quite a few other reasons, I'm hoping she invites me inside.

None of the above.

Dick-face opens the door.

"Van," he says, a very unhappy look on his thin face.

That's all he gets out. I introduce my fist to his mouth.

"You stupid son of a bitch," Danny yells past the roar in my ears. She's on the floor, trying to help Dick-face stand.

"He should stay down," I growl.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," Dick-face mutters.

But he stays down.

"Leave or I'm calling the police," Danny shouts.

The neighbor I had words with before opens her door. "I'm on it, Danny." She begins relaying shit to a dispatcher.

I take a look at Danny holding Dick-face's arm, and storm downstairs to wait at the Rover.

My brother picks me up from jail.