by K. L. Savage
“How are you doing?” I ask softly, and her face falls. She lays her hand on her stomach and takes a minute to compose herself, but the emotion is written all over her face.
Doc told them about the inconclusive test, and Sarah cried for hours. We didn’t see her the rest of the night when we brought her home from the asylum.
“I’m okay.”
“I know.” I bring her in for a hug, and Boomer comes over behind her. He’s wearing a Santa hat and has a grenade in his hand. “Boomer?” I draw out his name, wondering what plan he has conjured up.
“Who wants to go blow holes in the sand?”
“Oh, oh, I do! Let me get my shoes on.” Sarah claps her hands in excitement. I often wonder how the hell they’re related, but then I see shit like this, and it all clicks. “I’m so glad you’re here. I love you,” she says, giving him a quick hug before she runs to get her shoes.
“Damn, Badge. You look hot.”
“Fuck you, Boomer.”
“Want to go out sometime? Can I get to second base?”
I push him out of the way, and he slams against the wall, laughing his ass off.
I walk into the living room, catcalls ringing through the air, and I find myself under a mistletoe. Before I can make my escape, a small hand tugs on mine.
It’s Maizey.
“What?”
“Pick me up,” she orders.
I pick her up by her arms and saddle her to my hip. “No glitter,” I warn.
“No glitter,” she agrees and gives me a quick peck on the cheek. “Mistletoe kisses instead.” Maizey gives me another kiss, and my heart warms from her thoughtfulness.
I place a kiss on her forehead, then set her down on the floor before she’s off running again. Everyone’s eyes are on me, and I curl my lip, annoyed they saw me vulnerable. “What the hell are you guys looking at?”
“Nothing.”
“Not a thing.”
“Nice rack,” Skirt says, giving me a wink.
I flick Skirt off, and he covers his daughter’s eyes with his hand, so she doesn’t see. She’s five minutes old or something like that. She can’t fucking see anyway.
I have to wear the makeup until I go to bed. That’s the deal every time. I always have to hear jokes from everyone else. I make my way to the couch and sit next to Poodle, who’s petting Lady as she sleeps.
“I’m sorry about Lady.” I’ve must have said that fifty times since he told us about the cancer. Poodle doesn’t even look up to see how ridiculous I am with makeup on; he stares at Lady, trying to make her feel better by loving on her with gentle strokes across her belly.
It’s going to be a sad day when Lady dies.
I hope Christmas day is filled with joy. It’s a day the club really needs. With Lady on her last few days, Sarah maybe not being pregnant, Reaper finding out he has an uncle he doesn’t know and a sister he didn’t know existed, and Tongue being related to a psycho—which is not surprising—tomorrow needs to be a good day.
It has to be.
It’s why I’ve fucking volunteered to be Santa for some damn reason.
What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I do this to myself?
Right. At least I get cookies and milk. That will be worth it.
Because I don’t even like kids. I can’t stand them.
It’s two in the morning, and Badge looks ridiculous. All the adults are awake, drinking, laughing, and blowing off steam. Sarah is trying to stuff one last pillow in the Santa outfit for Badge’s fake belly, but it won’t go in.
Oh, wait, never mind. She got it.
She grunts as she pulls the black belt tight and slaps his round belly when she’s done. The outfit is complete. “There. You’re all done.”
“How do I look?” Badge asks everyone in the kitchen. Even my sister is here instead of downstairs. She has stayed next to me all day and night, and that makes me feel good; like she can trust me.
The last few days have been horrible. I never want to experience the horrors I went through thinking Sarah was dead. Doc ran some tests on my heart and come to find out, I didn’t have a heart attack, but I did experience broken heart syndrome.
I didn’t know that was a thing until Doc told me. My heart was literally broken; the tendons inside were under so much stress from the grief I felt that they snapped.
“You look like a fake Santa,” Tongue says, placing Happy on the table.
Everyone scoots back, chairs fall to the floor, and Happy swishes his tail, which has a bell on it, so it jingles every time he moves. Let’s not forget the Santa hat and the matching red nails. Daphne isn’t scared like the rest of the guys. She’s sitting on Tongue’s lap and kisses Happy on the snout.
There really is someone out there for everyone.
“Tongue, you do know all Santas are fake,” Badge points out, and Tongue whips out his knife and flings it through the air. It takes off Badge’s Santa hat and pins it to the wall.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” Badge tugs the knife from the wall and readjusts his hat. “Okay, give me the bag. I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he grumbles as I hand him the heaviest bag of fucking gifts in the world. He grips the red bag and throws it over his shoulder, and Sarah sneaks a picture.
“Sorry, I had to,” Sarah says. “Okay, remember, Maizey is going to wake up. She wants proof you’re real. Be ready.”
“Aidan too. They will work together as a team.”
“I’m not scared of kids,” Badge stays, shoving a cookie in his mouth. “Kids are dumb. In a good way, you know, innocent and ‘growing’ and all that.” He finger quotes it, which only makes us think he’s truly terrified of what’s about to happen. Kids are smart, resilient, and clever.
And he has no idea what he’s signed up for. “Okay, everyone, quiet down. Not one noise. Badge is going to put the gifts under the tree,” I say, flipping the light off, so we’re all in the dark. The kitchen is warm with so many bodies in it. On top of the Kings, Boomer and his crew are here too.
Patrick and Sunnie aren’t here. They’re in their room. After the emotional ordeal with Patrick fighting off his urge to drink, he’s been asleep since. Sunnie hasn’t left his side and has read that damn book front to back three times for him, but Sarah told me that’s what stopped Patrick from taking a drink. I’ll be forever in her debt for saving my friend.
I peek around the corner to see Badge drop the bag on the floor and lay his hands on his stomach. He ho-ho-ho’s like Santa does, and I have to cover my mouth to keep quiet. Badge is such an asshole; he loves this shit, no matter how much he says he hates it.
He finds the cookies and milk on the mantel and ignores the gifts for a few minutes. He stuffs the chocolate chip cookies in his mouth, then chugs the milk. When he’s done, he grabs the plate of carrots for the reindeer, turns over his shoulder, and points to it. “What the fuck do I do with this?”
“Eat it,” I whisper loudly.
“I hate carrots,” Badge grumbles his dissatisfaction and tosses the carrots in the fireplace instead. “There. Problem solved.”
I rub my hand down my face, wondering why we didn’t get Tank to be Santa. He’s much more pleasant to deal with.
Badge places the plate on the mantle, ignoring the already stuffed stockings, and opens the bag. “I can’t believe we have a fucking cactus and not a real tree,” he says under his breath, but if I can hear him, the kids can too.
“For the love of all things vile, shut up!” I warn him, and Sarah pinches my butt. “Ow.” I rub the tender spot. She lays her finger over her lips, telling me to shut up.
I’ll show her how to shut up by stuffing my co—
“Get him!” Maizey warrior cries, and Aidan follows suit.
Everyone in the kitchen does their best to stay quiet when they hear the tiny squeals.
“You go right, I go left,” Maizey orders.
“Oh no,” I chuckle, watching as Maizey wraps a string of Christmas lights around Badge.
; Aidan goes the other way, making sure Santa is stuck in the string of lights.
Maizey high kicks Badge in the belly, and he falls in a perfectly placed chair. Aidan wraps more lights around him and the chair, so Badge has nowhere to go. He’s yelling at the top of his lungs, mouth open, chestnut colored hair glowing almost red against the Christmas lights. When he runs out of lights, he does the only thing he knows to do with them.
Aidan plugs it in.
And Badge lights up in blues, oranges, yellows, reds, and greens. I see the annoyance in Santa’s eyes, staring daggers right at me.
“We caught Santa!” Maizey squeals, and she and Aidan high five one another.
“Mommy, Daddy!” Maizey calls out for us, and Sarah intertwines her fingers with mine.
“I think that’s our cue,” Sarah says.
“Do we unwrap, Badge?” Skirt asks, peeking over my shoulder.
“Nah, leave him like that for a while. It will be good for him,” I say.
“This is the best Christmas ever,” Warden says with a big smile on his face. Everyone gives him a hard glare, and he backtracks. “I don’t mean the bad shit. I just mean now.”
Bane throws his arm around his twin’s shoulder. “I know what you meant.”
“Mommy! I caught Santa. I caught Santa. Hurry, come see before he poofs away!” Maizey says with urgency.
Maybe Warden is right, maybe this is, right now, the best Christmas ever.
“We’re going to take pictures of Badge like this, right? Blackmail him for the rest of time?” Poodle asks.
“Oh yeah, definitely.”
Christmas Day
“Can you untie me now?” Badge asks, wiggling around in his chair. Aidan and Maizey crashed and fell asleep around his chair a few hours ago, but now it’s about time to wake them up for presents. “I really need to take a piss.”
“Badge, Santa does not say those words,” I chuckle, then smell the sweet scent of coffee. “Yeah, I’ll untie you.” I unplug him and unwrap one string, going in a hundred circles before starting on the other.
“Good thing I’m not Santa. Ever again.” Once he’s free, he runs toward his room to get undressed and do his business. My cheeks still hurt from laughing at what the kids did. Scrubbing my eyes, I yawn and step over Aidan, who has his hand on top of Maizey’s. Oh my God, what if they grow up and fall in love?
A mother can hope.
I throw my hair up in a quick, messy bun and head to the kitchen. Reaper, Patrick, Poodle, Warden, Bane, Wolf, and Boomer are there making Christmas breakfast.
“Is everyone ready for presents? The cactus is overflowing. Santa really outdid himself,” I say, greeted by Reaper’s kiss.
“Eat first, then we will.”
“Aye, the kids will sleep for another half hour. Let’s dig in before the little spawns wake up,” Skirt says, biting into a piece of bacon.
Delilah comes up the steps of the basement next, holding the hands of the two kids we haven’t seen much since we rescued them. Micah and Delaney, brothers.
Everyone stops what they’re doing, looking up as they enter the kitchen, and the siblings hide behind Delilah’s legs.
“Well, good morning, you two! Guess what? It’s Christmas! Do you want to go open your gifts?” I ask them, wanting them to feel like part of the family.
Micah blinks at me and steps away from Delilah. “We have gifts?”
My heart breaks when I hear those words. “Of course, you do! Santa brings presents to everyone. Come on, everyone. Looks like we’re moving to the living room early. Grab your coffee,” I say, guiding the kids to the living room.
When they see the cactus, they’re astounded. “Woah, that’s the coolest tree ever.”
“It’s a cactus,” Delaney says. “Stupid.”
“You’re stupid!” Micah pushes his brother, and he pushes back.
“Okay, that’s enough. Everyone, calm down. You’re both right. It’s a Christmas cactus,” I say with pride.
“Maizey,” Micah pokes her side. “Wake up. Christmas is here.”
“We caught Santa!” She bolts into a sitting position, but then she sees the empty chair. “But he was right there! We caught him.”
“He poofed. I saw it,” I say, wanting her to know I believe her.
A knock at the door interrupts everyone getting settled, but Tank gets up as soon as he sits down. “I got it.”
He opens the door, and Zain is there, holding a bottle of wine with a bow on it. “I … uh … I don’t know if I’m still wanted here, but I wanted to bring something by. I didn’t know what to get.”
“I’m sorry, we don’t allow alcohol in the main room,” I tell him.
“Oh, it’s non-alcoholic. I saw what Porter did to your friend,” Zain says, and to know he was so thoughtful has Tank swinging the door open for him to come in.
“Come on in,” I invite him in, and he gives me the biggest smile, one that is remarkably similar to Reaper’s.
Reaper comes in the room and gives Zain a nod, which is better than a knife to the chest, so hopefully he understands that.
Everyone gets settled in the main room, and I can’t help but feel overwhelmed with love. This is my family, my home, my people. There are so many here, so many who would risk their lives for another. I’m so lucky.
Poodle and Melissa are on the couch, feeding Lady pancakes. They have given her everything she wasn’t allowed to have before since she isn’t doing so well. Patrick and Sunnie are next to them, Tool and Juliette are sitting next to Reaper on the floor to be close to the action. Doc and Joanna are on the other side of the cactus, Skirt and Dawn are on the loveseat, Joey on Skirt’s lap. Aidan is in front of the tree, looking like he’s about to tear into the gifts any minute now.
Tongue and Daphne are in the corner, watching from the dark as they like to do. Badge, Slingshot, Knives, Tank, Bullseye, and Braveheart are on the new sectional we just purchased. It’s huge, an L-shape, to fit everyone.
That doesn’t even include Boomer and his guys, who are lined up against the wall since there’s no room.
Maybe we should have had Christmas in the gym…
“Okay, here we go,” Reaper says, grabbing the first gift. “Slingshot, it’s you, buddy,” Reaper tosses it to him, and Slingshot catches the red gift with a silver bow.
He tears into it, opens the box, and jumps up and down when he sees what it is. “It’s a three-hundred-dollar gift card to my favorite taco stand!”
No one is happy about it.
“Who did that?” Reaper asks, but no one admits a thing.
“Duh, Daddy. Santa.” Maizey pats Reaper’s arm. “It’s okay. It only means Slingshot deserved it.”
“I’ll have to write a letter to Santa and tell him my complaints then.” Reaper shoots me a glance and winks, and my body flushes in response. He knows it too because his eyes darken to molten lava.
“Thanks, Santa!” Slingshot nudges Badge, and Badge slaps him on the back of the head.
“Bullseye!” Reaper throws him a gift, and we hope it lightens Bullseye’s spirit. He’s been quiet and down. We miss him.
Bullseye tears into the black wrapping paper and grins, smiling for the first time in months. “A dart maker. I love it! Thank you, Reap—Santa,” he corrects himself quickly. “Really, thank you.”
“Daphne, this one is from Tongue. You have two,” Reaper says, and Daphne manages to pry herself away from Tongue’s hold to take the boxes.
One is wrapped in pink, and the other is wrapped in green. She gently unfolds each side of the paper instead of tearing into it. The box is long; maybe a necklace? No. That’s too basic for Tongue.
“I love it!” she announces, sliding out a blade that looks a lot like Tongue’s, but when the light hits it, I notice it has his name engraved in the steel. Not his road name, his real one.
“I got mine engraved too, Comet,” Tongue says, unsheathing his knife to show her. “It’s got your name on it.”
Daphne kiss
es him, deep and long, and the guys whistle at them for putting on a show. She pulls away, flushed, and her eyes are glittering with lust. Tongue growls, and Reaper has to snap his fingers to get the couple to focus.
“What’s this?” Daphne holds up a key, analyzing it by twisting the ribbon which causes it to spin in circles.
“It’s the key to your new bookstore,” Tongue says, kissing her on the cheek.
This time, there is no stopping them. Daphne jumps on Tongue, wraps her legs around him, and his hands move to her ass. I move my palm in front of Maizey’s eyes, and Reaper does the same with Aidan. A few of Boomer’s men take note and go to hide Micah and Delaney’s eyes when Tongue walks backward to their room.
“I love it. I love you,” Daphne says between kisses. “I want you so much.”
“Okay, kids in the house. Kids!” Reaper calls after them just as their door slams. “Bunch of rowdy teenagers.” Reaper shakes his head and gets up to grab the big box against the far wall.
“Boomer, here.” Reaper hands him a box that isn’t wrapped. “Sorry, I ran out of paper.”
Boomer gives Reaper a bepuzzled look and yanks the box open. “Fireworks!” he gasps, then giggles. “Big ones. Holy crap, Reaper, Sarah, thank you. Can I go shoot one off now?”
“It isn’t nighttime, Boomer,” I deadpan.
“So…” he murmurs.
Everyone laughs, and Reaper continues handing out gifts until there is only one left. Even Boomer’s men have a little something, cash to gift cards; something simple since we don’t know them too well. Zain even has one, a small album full of pictures of Reaper and everyone here throughout the years so Zain can feel like part of the family. Tool has a new screwdriver set from Juliette, and Juliette has a new microphone, and Reaper and I got them new sex toys.
Skirt, Dawn, and Bullseye got a new room for their escapades. A real watch room. There’s a private section where Bullseye can watch without Skirt and Dawn knowing, or he can join. We do know Skirt doesn’t allow Bullseye to touch, but we wanted them to have a nicer room to share their desires besides the rooms the cut-sluts were in.
