Christmas in the City II

by Samantha Chase

  Holy crap.

  Holy crap.

  “Holy crap,” I pant.

  “Holy crap,” Aaron agrees.

  “That was…”

  “Hot?” he supplies.

  “Oh, yeah…” I rest my head on his chest and let my body relax. Not like it’s difficult since I’m officially boneless. I sort of feel bad he didn’t get his, but he doesn’t seem like the type of guy to pout about something like that.

  “How about that date?” he asks once my breathing is under control.

  I laugh, picking up my head. I look into his crystal blue eyes and all I see is peace and contentment. His don’t look like the eyes of a man who intends on hurting me. Stephen had shifty eyes, I should have known.

  “You’re on,” I tell him, giving him a kiss on the nose. We share a smile before I rest my head on his chest again.

  “I won’t let you down,” I hear him say before I drift off to sleep.

  12

  I wake up on Christmas morning in my childhood bed. Aaron must have carried me up here last night after I’d fallen asleep on him. I’m momentarily embarrassed by all the teenage heartthrob posters he must have seen on my walls, but then I decide I don’t care. I think after last night, he realizes he’s the one making my heart throb now.

  I briefly panic over my cat, Alexander, and then remember that I’d put out some extra food for him just in case I spent the night. He should be okay until I return home this evening, although I’m sure he’s going to have a lion-sized attitude problem over having been ditched.

  I roll over and bury my head under my blanket and pillows and think about last night. If it was that good with our clothes on…imagine how it’ll be with our clothes off. I kick my legs with glee. I can’t wait to find out!

  A ping from my cell phone alerts me to a text. I reach over and grab it from my nightstand, once again thankful for Aaron’s thoughtfulness for having brought it up here with me.

  B: Merry Christmas! I love your face! xoxo

  Bailey’s up early. Wait until she hears what I’ve been up to. I’d call her, but we’d end up talking for hours and I should probably be getting downstairs.

  Me: I love your face more. Merry Christmas. Talk later? xo

  B: Definitely. I need to hear all about your holiday with the hunk.

  I sit up and stretch my arms over my head, sighing as my back pops in all the right places. I get up, stick my feet into my comfy fuzzy slippers, and head downstairs.

  Apparently I am the last to rise because the kitchen is teeming with activity. The island has a buffet setup of pancakes, waffles, eggs, hash browns, bacon, sausage, ham, and toast. Who the heck does my mom think she’s feeding?

  “Everything looks great, Mom,” I say as I snatch a plate.

  “Don’t thank me, thank the boys.” I raise my eyebrows and look across the kitchen to Dean and Aaron, who are both seated at the kitchen table, chowing down on their breakfast.

  “Thanks, guys,” I say. Dean does the chin nod thing, and Aaron winks. I will not blush I will not blush I will not blush.

  “I saved a seat for you, sweetheart,” Aaron calls across the kitchen—in front of God and my family—as he pats the chair beside him.

  Is he serious right now?

  I imagine my face matches the red apple pattern of my mother’s kitchen as I freeze in place, mid-scoop. So much for my “I will not blush” pep talk.

  I swear I can hear the heartbeats of every person in this room through the silence that has washed over us.

  “Err—”

  “Brenna! Are you and Aaron dating? You didn’t tell me that.”

  “She only agreed to go out with me last night, Mrs. Hunter.”

  “Aaron, what did I tell you?”

  “Sorry, Ruth.”

  “That’s better. You’re practically family now, after all. This is so great,” my mother says, clapping her hands. “Aaron’s such a nice boy, Brenna. Good job.”

  Have I entered an alternate universe? With my jaw still on the floor, I look over at my father and brother, who are both frozen, looking alternately between me and Aaron. At least they seem to have their wits about them.

  My mother, on the other hand…maybe she’s drunk.

  “We’re not dating,” I say, finally finding my voice. “We’re going on a date. One date. I agreed to one date.”

  “That’s what she says,” Aaron tells my mom like they’re girlfriends chatting over mimosas. “But once she sees how a real man treats a lady, unlike the boy she dated back in college,” my eyes widen, “she’ll never let me go.” I don’t know whether to be impressed or pissed off. I think I want to smack him.

  “Aw, that’s so sweet. Isn’t that sweet, Jim?”

  Dad quits staring at Aaron and looks at Dean. “Did you take care of this?” he asks, tipping his chin at Aaron.

  What the heck?

  “Yep,” Dean answers before going back to his plate. Shows over for him, I suppose.

  “Yeah, sure. That’s…sweet,” my Dad says, and returns to his food as well.

  I repeat…What the heck?

  Aaron must sense my discombobulation because he stands up from the table and comes over to where I’m still standing at the island. He takes the spoon for the eggs out of my hand and fixes the rest of my plate for me. “I’ll take care of that for you, honey.” Honey? Then he grabs my hand and leads me to the table, sets my food down and even pulls out my chair.

  I’m waiting for The Twilight Zone music to start up any time now. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one to criticize or shy away from chivalry. But you have to admit, this is weird!

  “So…are there wedding bells in your future?”

  I choke on my juice—legit choke—spewing orange liquid across the table. Aaron is patting my back, and my mother is grabbing paper towels to wipe up my mess. Dean is leaning back in his seat, looking up at the ceiling and wiping juice off his face with a napkin. My dad is still eating his food, ignoring the chaos that surrounds him. Glad we’re not disturbing him at all. Thanks for the help, Daddy-o.

  I get my breathing under control, and Mom gets the table cleaned up. I’m afraid to speak out of fear of how it may get misconstrued. I’d really like to drag Aaron from the table by his ear, but who knows what my mother will turn that into. So I sit and eat my breakfast quietly. I sip my juice carefully, making sure my mother’s mouth isn’t about to open each time I raise the glass to my lips. For the most part, I keep my head down and try not to make eye contact with the crazies at this table. It’s too early for this crap.

  Since the guys made breakfast, I clear the table and start boxing the leftovers in Tupperware. My mother, unable to completely hand over the reins to her kitchen, helps.

  “So when am I going to get grandbabies?”

  I drop a dish, and it smashes on the floor. Well, it’s acrylic so it really just hits the floor and makes a super loud noise. But smashing sounds more dramatic. “What the—”

  “All right, all right, that’s enough.” Finally, my father steps in. “It was funny in the beginning, but it’s not funny anymore. She’s going to end up hurting herself or someone else.”

  Huh?

  I look around, and no one’s making eye contact. Then I realize…“Son of a b—”

  “Language!” Mom scolds.

  The Christmas prank! How could I have been so obtuse? Oh, because I had clouds in my eyes over Aaron, that’s how.

  “I can’t even believe they got you in on this!” I yell at Aaron.

  “It was his idea!” Dean says, pointing his finger at Aaron.

  “Oh, really?”

  Aaron smiles one of those smiles adults do when they’re trying to be cute and get out of trouble. Yeah. He’s lucky he’s so cute. Ugh. I’m such a failure! I’ve been so distracted by all things Aaron that the prank completely slipped my mind. Shame on me.

  I shake my head and return to the task at hand, scrubbing the di
shes. “Good one, guys. Way to go. You got me.” And they did. They all did. It makes me wonder just how much of it was a joke…

  I sense him before I feel him. Aaron presses into my back, wraps his arms around my middle and rests his chin on my shoulder. “It wasn’t all a joke, you know that right?”

  “Of course,” I lie.

  “Just the wedding and the babies. At least for now.” I tense. “The rest is all true. I’m going to take you out on a date and ruin you for all other men.”

  I laugh, loosening up. I think he’s already ruined me for all other men. “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Your family is totally crazy, by the way,” he jokes.

  “We are,” I nod, turning around in his arms. “Is that going to be a problem?”

  “Not at all,” he answers, smiling down at me. He leans in for a kiss, and I comply.

  “Get a room!” Dean yells.

  “Gimme some grandbabies!” Mother…

  “Ruth, knock it off. Davis, get off my daughter.” There’s my real dad.

  “Yes, sir,” Aaron says, pulling away, but still smiling down at me.

  “Merry Christmas, Aaron Davis.”

  “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jennifer was born and raised on Long Island, in New York. She relocated to South Carolina in 2002, where she met the love of her life. They got married and live their happily ever after just outside of Charleston with their fur-kids: a spoiled rat terrier, a cat who thinks he’s a dog, and a cat who think she’s an MMA fighter. When she’s not reading or writing, she works a day job in an office, and is an evening graduate student, pursuing a degree in clinical counseling. She enjoys amateur photography, travelling, and music…it’s a bonus when she can combine all three. She independently published her debut novel, Our Moon (JACT 1), in June 2015.

  OTHER TITLES BY JENNIFER L. ALLEN

  Our Moon (JACT 1)

  Hearts in the Sand (JACT 2)

  Wildflower (JACT 2.5)

  Change of Heart (Second Chances 1)

  Right Place, Right Time (Second Chances 2)

  Rewrite

  By Stephanie Rose

  Rewrite

  Copyright © 2016 by Stephanie Rose

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted on any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, Characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.

  Except the original material written by the author, all songs, song titles, and lyrics contained in the story are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

  Chapter 1

  Brianna

  Twelve years earlier

  Me: I’m outside. Either come downstairs or I ring the bell.

  Nothing set a person up for rejection like showing up unannounced. But if I’d texted before my arrival I’d get no response, so why should I have bothered? I was a hell of a lot braver on the short walk up the block from my house, all sorts of emotions fueling every step I took until I sprinted the last few feet.

  I planted myself on his bottom step until I heard the creak of the screen door opening.

  “Brianna, just go,” Josh snapped. He glared at me from his front door.

  I glared right back as I leveled my gaze. “No. I won’t ‘just go’. After all these years, I deserve something. Thanks for sticking by me. Good-bye. Go fuck yourself. We’ve been best friends since kindergarten and you’re leaving for boot camp—or so I heard—tomorrow. Respect me at least that much, won’t you?”

  Josh raked his hands over his face. “I’m doing you a favor.”

  Scoffing, I stepped back and shook my head. “A favor? Throwing me aside like I’m no one is a favor? You’re real generous, Falco.” I folded my arms over my heaving chest.

  His jaw clenched as he ran down the stairs. He stomped through his days with an ever-present chip on his shoulder, but the sour expression he gave everyone else couldn’t fool me. I saw beyond the hardened edges and malice that he did his best to put forth to everyone else. With me, he was just Josh. My best friend. The best friend who was leaving me forever without a word.

  “I’m poison, Cupcake,” Josh whispered. “You know it and I know it.”

  “Stop saying that!”

  “I am. If I don’t leave, I’ll wind up in jail or worse. Bad enough this was a near miss.” He ran his hands over his newly shaved head. Gone were the black curls that fell over his face, the ones I had dreams of running my fingers through when he kissed me. “This is your chance. You aren’t linked to the fucking school pariah so maybe the kids at school will actually talk to you. No getting in trouble for spending your spare time with the douche down the street. You’re free of me, Cupcake. Finally.”

  “Free of you? Are you serious?” My voice screeched as panic flooded my system, realizing I was about to lose him and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

  I never wanted to be “free” of Josh. The truth I never admitted to anyone, including myself, was that I loved Josh. Not just as my best friend. I loved him with every cell and bone in my body, and now I was about to lose the little part of him that always belonged to only me since we were kids. I wasn’t one of the girls he let out his frustrations with on random nights. He tried to keep them a secret from me, but failed big time. It stung, but I never cared all that much. I knew Josh’s loves, his fears, why he’d been in a downward spiral that was now accelerating beyond his control. I was the only one he cried to in rare moments of weakness. I was the only one he laughed with. I never tried to save him, but I never left him. How could I? He was everything to me. Ever since the day he punched Vinny Gambone for taking my blocks in kindergarten, I belonged to him.

  Josh leveled his eyes at me. “They searched my locker. It was this or jail.”

  “For weed? That’s stupid—”

  “There was molly in there, too.”

  My mouth dropped open as my brows pinched together. “Why would you . . .”

  He squinted his eyes at me as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Don’t look at me like that, Bri. You know I don’t use that shit. Gio told me I could get a lot more for the hard stuff. After all the fights I had this year and the number of times they found weed in my locker before, they had no choice but to call the cops.”

  Josh sold drugs, but he used the money to help his father pay the rent after his mother’s medical bills had them two steps away from living in squalor.

  “What about rehab or something—”

  “I’m eighteen. The public defender told my dad all of those places are off the table. It’s done, Brianna. Let it go.”

  Let it go? Let Josh go? I didn’t know how to do that.

  I took in a deep breath and gazed at him. If he wanted to keep the asshole mask on until he left, I’d let him. I knew who was really behind it, no matter how much he huffed and sneered at me.

  “So you aren’t even going to call me?” I crossed my arms and inched closer.

  “I doubt I can have a phone at boot camp.” Josh spit his words at me, but didn’t back away.

  “Then write me. You know, once they let you hold sharp objects again.”

  Josh looked away, but not before I caught the smile ghosting on his lips. “Still looking to torture me with more writing.”

  “Maybe.” My mouth twisted in a smirk. “You know you want to see how my book ends. We can pretend we’re pen pals, like when we were little and used to leave letters in each other’s mailboxes.”

  I kissed his cheek and let out a long sigh as everything about him f
illed my senses. I took in his strong jaw, just inches away from his full lips. He was my beautiful, troubled boy. As my hand drifted down his face, I noted his sharp gasp. He bit his lip as his gaze softened. Our eyes locked as he tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. The air between us was heavy with love and regret. For one brief second, Josh allowed the fear and the hurt he buried deep inside flash on his beautiful face. He planted a quick kiss on my forehead before he jerked away.

  “Look, I have to go.” He turned to walk back up his steps. I zoned in on the back of his head, and did my damnedest to pretend I’d see him tomorrow. I tried with everything I had not to feel the finality and sadness that grew with every step he took toward his door. Even though he was still in my line of sight the distance between us was already miles wide. He reached for his screen door and stilled.

  “Do us both a favor,” he called to me without turning around. “Just move on. Go to prom, go to college, have a good life without me around to ruin it for you.” He craned his head, the hard edges of his face softening for a moment as his eyes met mine. “Forget about me, Cupcake.”

  Chapter 2

  Josh

  Present day

  I didn’t get nervous, at least not that I’d let anyone see. Not when I took on guys twice my size in school for saying shit about my family; not when I enlisted in the military to avoid jail; not when training pushed my every limit and made me dread opening my eyes each day. But now, standing in front of the door of the only girl I ever loved, the one I hadn’t seen in over ten years—that scared the shit out of me.

  I told her to forget about me, but she never did. Fuck knows I could never forget her. We kept in touch through letters that didn’t go into a terrible amount of detail, and I stayed the hell off any kind of social media. I had no clue what she looked like now or what her life was like beyond what she shared in her letters. Was she engaged? Married? I never had the balls to come out and ask and neither of us volunteered anything. I exhaled and wiped the sweat off my brow as my boots crunched the brittle yellow leaves leading to her door. If she was, she was. I wanted her to have a good life. She deserved that. She was sweet and innocent, but always stuck up for my sorry ass since we were kids. At the end of every terrible day, she was my bright spot. All these years later, that’s how I still thought of her. My light out of the darkness.