by Cassie Mae
Pete
Candace leans against the counter by the stove, giving a lopsided smile that looks cute and ridiculous all at once.
“Merry Christmas Eve,” I tell her, my mood spiked after grabbing Demi. Having Candace here with me and my sisters feels more complete than I thought it would.
And the fact that I was able to get Demi four presents and Maddie three has me reeling with excitement and pride. I bought character wrapping, too. The brand name stuff. Hell yeah!
Candace pushes a piece of her curled hair behind an ear, sparkly red earrings dangling down to just above her jawline. She’s wearing a loose green sweater, but the color looks festive and fun and her. She’s been trying the Grease method with the torn jeans and midriffs, which she pulls off but never looks quite comfortable in. This is more her speed.
“You look festive,” I tell her, letting my safest thought seep out.
The nervous buzz in her eyes drops, and she narrows her gaze at me. She probably thinks I’m teasing. Which is fair. I usually am.
“You too,” she says pointedly. I’m wearing black. Wheel Zone today.
I chuckle and shrug my coat off, dropping it haphazardly on the chair in the corner of our “dining room.” If we could fit a table in there, I still doubt we’d sit at it. “Wanna come meet Demi?”
Her teeth snag that lip of hers. “I have to eventually.”
“Don’t worry. She’s only slightly judgmental.”
“Goodie.”
I silently chuckle at yet another thing that sits on her fear list—kids. It’s a level yellow, so kind of low. She wouldn’t work at Troublemakers if it was higher, I’m sure. I reach out and snag the sleeve of that green sweater and tug her toward the living room. She doesn’t fight me as much as the paintball drag.
We pass under the arch that leads into the living room, and I watch her face twist into a nervous wreck as her eyes land on my baby sister. Dem’s got on her Christmas Eve outfit—a dress that looks like a Christmas tree, a headband with a star planted at the top adorning her brown hair. A grin the size of Santa’s belt stretches across her face, her eyes glued to the purple tree I managed to decorate. With Mad’s help.
“Dem,” I say, and her child eyes turn to me and Candace. “This is my friend I was telling you about.”
Her smile starts to shrink as she takes Candace in, and it feels like Candace shrinks with it under the scrutiny of the ten-year-old. Dem wasn’t totally thrilled when I told her I invited someone else. She flat out said, “But you’re mine.” Like I’d divide my attention. I assured her she’d still be the star of the night.
She hitches a hand up on her hip. “Pete said you were pretty.”
Heat flashes through my neck, and I make a face, my eyes barely open as I swing them to check Candace’s reaction. An amused glint sparkles in her dark brown irises, and the freckle in the corner of her mouth twitches.
“Was he right?” she asks, her voice a lot more teasing than timid.
Demi shrugs. “I guess.” She pauses, smoothing her hands over her dress. “My outfit is better.”
“Demi,” Maddie scolds through a laugh.
“Well, she’s right,” Candace jumps in to defend with a grin. Her demeanor seems to have changed in all of three seconds. “Her outfit is… balling.”
Balling? Oh damn, she is bad at this.
Demi tilts her head but seems to like the description. She jumps up on the couch, setting her hands up on the back. “Pete said you weren’t his girlfriend.”
“Pete would be right.”
“But you could kiss and not be boyfriend and girlfriend. My friend told me that.”
Candace juts her gaze to me, but I got nothing for her. Demi blurts out whatever is in her brain, and even I can’t predict what’s coming.
“I guess…” she says, and suddenly I’m thinking of kissing Candace, and I shake my head to rid it of the thought. Thanks, sis. I didn’t need that image to haunt me the entire night.
“I… I brought something for you,” Candace stutters, and she ducks behind me and down the hall. I furrow my brow, and Maddie looks just as confused at the impromptu exit. The sound of a zipper fills the hallway, and Demi peers over the back of the couch, her smile creeping back to her face.
“She got me something?” she asks me.
“I think so.” I didn’t ask her to. Turmoil twists my stomach into a giant tsunami, ready to crash at any moment. She didn’t get a million gifts, did she? Suddenly the four presents I was so proud of a few minutes ago seem cheap.
She emerges with three boxes, Christmas print plastered over each one. “It’s sort of a tradition at my house,” she explains, handing one to each of us. “We do these Christmas Eve boxes. Just little knick knacks and stuff for the night…” She shakes her head hard, her hair waving around her shoulders. “I thought… Well, you can open them.”
“Now?” Demi’s voice pitches high, and I drop my gaze to the box Candace is handing me. It’s green with a tag that boasts Santa on a motorcycle. The corner of my mouth picks up, but my heart thuds unevenly. I have nothing for her. I’ve never even heard of Christmas Eve boxes.
“Go for it,” Candace urges, and Demi chucks the lid off so fast it flies across the room and hits Mad in the face.
“Watch it, Tasmanian devil.” Maddie digs into her own box, beaming at the contents. My hands slip on my gift, refusing to open it until I see what’s in Demi’s.
“Sweet!” she says, pulling out a nightgown. “I’m not a big fan of pink, but I can totally pull it off.”
Pink is Demi’s least favorite color, so I’m glad she edited some of that comment for Candace’s benefit. She sets it aside and digs through the tissue paper for more stuff.
A book, a mini can of soda, snack packs of Christmas cookies, and… oh boy… I wonder if Candace will realize—
“Stickers!” Demi shrieks, jumping up and down on the couch. “Pete, look! Seven hundred stickers!”
“Don’t you dare decorate my walls with that,” I tease, but there’s a good chance she thought about it. Even the evil glint in her eye says she still is. “This is a rental.”
“I don’t know what that means.” She drops her head back to the stickers, and I’m too grateful she doesn’t know what rent is yet that I don’t care to explain it.
“Thank you, Candace,” Maddie says from her spot on the floor. A pair of pajama pants drapes over her legs, the material covered in horse print. I can’t read what the top says from this angle. “You didn’t have to.”
“Pete didn’t have to invite me.” She nudges my arm, her gaze dropping to my unopened present. “Hey, open it.”
“Yeah, Pete, I wanna see what you got.” Demi bounces on the couch again, the book of stickers still clutched tightly to her chest.
I smirk and turn my eyes to Candace, lifting the lid. “You didn’t have to…” I repeat Maddie. Candace sticks her tongue out in response.
The pajamas are green, plaid flannel, warm already in my cold fingers. I lay them out for Demi to see, and she’s pretty indifferent about the boring pattern compared to her sparkly pink. It pairs with a cotton t-shirt with the words Ho Ho Vroom on the front in the same plaid pattern, and a motorcycling Santa underneath. I let out a bark of a laugh, knowing there is no way in hell I’d buy this for myself, but I’ll be happy to wear it tonight for her.
“I took a guess at your size.” Candace holds the shirt up against me. “Might be a little big.”
“Pajamas are better big,” I tell her, shuffling through the rest of my goodies. She knows me better than I thought. Peanut M&Ms, large bottle of purple Fanta, a book of tattoo art, and a card. I’ll save reading that for later.
“I’m hungry.” Demi bounces off the couch and looks at Maddie. “Is dinner ready?”
“Yep.” Maddie pushes her goodies to the side and gets to her feet. “Hope you like crunchy ham.”
Turns out, crunchy ham tastes a lot like bacon, so it’s the best damn ham I’ve ever eaten. Sin
ce we don’t have a table, we sit on the couch and floor in the living room, and I watch Candace struggle with a knife and fork with the plate on her lap for a good ten minutes before she gives up and uses her hands like the rest of us.
Demi hops, sticking her stickers on any surface she can without being yelled at for it. Candace makes a whoops face at me when Demi reaches out and smacks a good work sticker to my forehead. Once we’re done eating, Maddie turns on some Christmas music, and she and Demi rock out while Candace and I shuffle around each other in the kitchen.
She’s meticulous in her cookie baking process, smacking my hand any time I try for some dough. Somehow I end up with flour all over my shirt while her green sweater remains spotless.
Demi begs to frost the cookies, so she and I switch spots. I flump on the couch with Maddie and find out that Candace has offered her a job watching the horses—and my heart grows like the Grinch’s.
“Really? It pays well?” I prod.
“I don’t know. You interrupted.” She gives my knee a smack then takes a sip from her blue Gatorade from her Christmas Eve box. Candace did well on the guesswork with the tastes of my sisters’. Demi got orange soda, which is in her top five, and Gatorade was a good bet with Maddie, being as athletic as she is.
“You should get more details then.” If Mad could get a better paying job that also gives her time with her boarding that would be ideal. For both me and her.
Laughter floats in from the kitchen, the snorts from Candace mixing with the squeals of my baby sister. It’s the most real and comforting background music.
Around ten-thirty, after too many cookies, Demi starts to drift, as much as she’s fighting it.
“But Candace didn’t show me her art stuff yet,” she mumbles through tired lips as I pick her up in my arms. Damn, she’s getting heavy.
“She’ll still be here in the morning, you goof.”
“It’ll take two seconds.”
“So it can wait.” I level my gaze. “Don’t you want Santa to come?”
“He’ll come this year?” she says, and the skepticism in her voice shatters my overgrown heart, reminding me exactly why she’s in my grubby apartment tonight.
“If you go to sleep.” I say it like a tease, but there’s a rough edge to my voice I can’t hide. I catch the faintest glimpse of a frown on Candace’s face before I disappear down the hall and set my sister up in Mad’s bed.
The sparkly pink nightgown catches on my Santa pajamas, and I smooth down the material, watching it break apart as she settles into the sheets. There’s a sleepy smile on her face, and it’s contagious. I pull the comforter up and tuck her in.
“Did you have fun?” Like I told Dad, her happiness is my number one priority, and I want this Christmas to be the start of great ones to come.
“Yep.” She yawns.
“You okay with Candace being here now?” I try to sound smug, but I can’t keep the hopefulness out of my voice. I want Demi to like Candace. I don’t know why. I don’t understand this need to get my sister’s approval on my co-worker-turned-buddy. But right now, it feels like I need that approval like a dog needs a bone.
She’s quiet long enough for me to think she’s gone to sleep. Then a small sigh slips through her lips. “You should marry her.”
I bark out a laugh, and my sister is so used to the volume of my laughter that she doesn’t jerk at all. “Is that so?”
“Mmmhmm. Then she’ll be my sister.”
“You just want more presents,” I accuse. A sense of relief wraps around my shoulders, and I quickly check the door to make sure no one witnesses the magnitude of my grin.
“And cookies.”
I shake my head and press a kiss to her forehead that she quickly swipes away. “’Night, Dem.”
I swear she’s asleep before I hit the door. Mad meets me in the hallway and doesn’t give me two seconds before she shoves me to my room. “I have presents you can’t see.” Damn, she’s tough. “So you stay until I give the all clear.”
My feet trip over themselves into my room, where Candace is already set up on the floor with the wrapping paper I bought. Mad shuts us in, and the air snaps, suddenly infested by electric eels.
She levels me with her gaze, her shoulders all-business. Her nerves from earlier have seeped out slowly throughout the night. Looks like they’re completely gone now.
“Pay attention,” she says, grabbing a tube of wrapping and slapping it against her open palm. “I’m only going to show you once.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I salute her and open my closet door, the unwrapped gifts jumbled in a box I stuffed in here earlier. I didn’t have much time to clean up before work, but lucky for me, I don’t have a ton of stuff to my name.
I sit opposite her, sliding the box between us. Mad’s got Candace’s gift from me; I wrapped it as best I could, but I can already hear the jabs I’ll get from her tomorrow before she rips it open.
Candace smooths the paper out in front of her, the neckline of her button-up plaid pajamas dipping low enough for me to see the shadows between her breasts. I blink a few times and try to put my head on straight. I’ve only got one shot at listening, after all.
“Try to get as many cube shapes as possible,” she instructs, pushing up off the floor to peer into the box. She digs around, finding an oddly shaped stuffed koala bear—Dem’s favorite animal. She nibbles on the inside of her lip as she sits back down, looking around my mostly vacant room. “So with this, I’d put it in a small box. Where do you keep your box of boxes?”
“In the recycling bin outside.” I jut my thumb over my shoulder with a smirk. A box of boxes? We barely have enough room for the required furniture.
“Do you have a bag full of gift bags— never mind.” She retracts the question at the look of utter confusion on my face.
“You have a bag of gift bags.”
“It’s not that unusual, Pete.” She sets the stuffed animal in the center of the paper, twisting it in different directions before settling on a position. “Saving gift bags is just good sense. Another way of recycling, so to speak.”
“I suppose one would have to get gift bags to understand that.” I’m teasing, but she eyes me with a frown, and slices through the wrapping in one swoop. I hope I wasn’t supposed to be paying attention to that.
She’s quiet for a beat as she folds the wrapping around the toy, grabbing tape off the roll at the same time. She presses the tape against the paper, not making a single crinkle.
“I’m about to pry…” she blurts, and I lift a brow.
“Go for it.” I lean back on my hands, enjoying how meticulously she works, how comfortable she sits in her flannel pajamas on my bedroom floor.
“Well…” She pauses, probably rethinking what she wants to say. I wait it out, letting her grab another gift and start wrapping without much thought to what she’s doing. I have a guess as to what she wants to talk about, given the pity I’ve seen cross her expression more than once tonight.
She folds the corners against Maddie’s pack of board stickers I got her. “It… um… doesn’t take a genius to see how different we grew up.”
I laugh at the apologetic wrinkles in her brow as she refuses to meet my eyes. “Uh huh.”
“I was just… curious I guess.” Her gaze flutters and drops back to the gift wrapping so fast I’m not even sure I saw it.
“About how I grew up?”
“Your home life, yes.” She pushes her finger against the gift, holding the wrapping in place, and tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear with the other hand. “Demi’s home life now.”
“You got some tissues?” I tease. “It’s a real sob story.”
“Pete…”
I sigh, pushing off my hands to lean more toward her. She won’t let me joke my way through this one.
“It’s not as bad as you think, I bet.”
“How do you know what I’m thinking?”
“Because you’re Candace, and you like to think a lot.”
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She rips a piece of tape from the roll and sticks it to my arm hard. Some hair will probably come out when I yank it off.
“It’s your run of the mill CW drama. Dad likes pills, thinks he’s hiding the addiction, but his kids aren’t stupid. He fails a drug test, loses his job, and begs his adult kids to pay his bills. See? Not so bad.”
Her mouth pops open, her fingers completely missing the wrapping as she sticks the tape down. I take the gift from her now useless hands, trying to mimic what she’s been doing.
“Um…” She blinks. “How long?”
“Since he’s been abusing?” I lift a shoulder. “I think since I was eight. He got smashed up pretty bad at work. Dad’s a machinist… or was a machinist… anyway, he hurt himself and went in for surgery. After that, it was a nice trip he never wanted to return home from.”
The corners of her mouth turn down, and I know she’s giving me the exact reaction I expected, but it still blows. I don’t want her to stop teasing me or lecturing me. I don’t want her to stop being anything but who she is already. I don’t want to be coddled or pitied, because I do enough of that on my own. I want the escape, which is what she does so naturally.
“That’s…” She stops, her mind working to pick out the right word. I can easily fill in.
“Horrible? Unfair? Messed up?” I offer, but she shakes her head, the wrinkle above her nose making an appearance.
“Amazing.”
“Come again?”
She lets out a breathy laugh and pulls the gift out of my hands. She undoes the fold I just did and makes it fit better against the present. “It’s amazing, given what you all experience on the day to day, that you and your sisters are all so… fun. Happy.” She picks up the gift, examining her flawless work. “Seems like it’d be an easy road to be bitter.”
“I am bitter,” I argue, but she snorts.
“Pete, you are the least bitter person I know.” She sets the gift aside and plucks another from the box. “It’s crazy annoying sometimes—your enthusiasm for life.”
