You for Christmas

by Madeline Ash

  Confusion creased Stevie’s wet cheeks. She turned a questioning glance on her best friend. “Felix, is that—why didn’t you tell me?”

  He didn’t turn. “She made me promise.”

  Liquid brown eyes found Regan again. “Why?”

  She swallowed. “I paid him to take you with him. Didn’t tell him why, but I had to know Jason couldn’t touch you.”

  For a few long moments, Stevie stared at Felix’s back. Confusion gave way to a dawning comprehension. Probably realizing how he’d managed to afford rent and groceries and whatever else in those early days.

  “Felix,” she whispered. “I would’ve killed just to know that much.”

  His backward glance was pained. “I promised,” he repeated, and turned away again.

  She turned back to Regan. “Why didn’t you make him take you, too? He would have. We would have made it work together.”

  Felix took his glasses off and pressed the thick of his thumb to his forehead.

  “I was scared Jason would find us. Make me pay for trying to outsmart him. But if I ran away, he won, because he knew you were the only thing I cared about, and running from him meant leaving you behind.”

  “God, I should have noticed.” Stevie looked broken. Her shoulders were slumped, her hands mangled together on a lap of faded denim. “I was supposed to protect you. My baby sister. I was the same age as him. It should have been me.” Under her breath, she asked, “Why wasn’t it me?”

  Regan knelt beside her, but didn’t presume to reach out. “Because,” she said softly. “You had Felix.”

  She heard the hiss of his breath across the room. Saw the truth stun the flow of Stevie’s tears.

  “And because you looked like that,” Regan said, gesturing to her sister’s battered jeans and loose singlet. Then she waved a hand down her body, curves showing beneath the tight fabric. “And I asked for it.”

  Stevie shook her head, features falling. “No.”

  “Yes. He told me.”

  “He was fucking with you.” And then she was grabbing Regan by the shoulders and dragging her into a hug so fierce, it squeezed right through to her heart.

  Stevie was strong, her bare arms firm against Regan’s shoulder blades, her hands spread open on her back, pressing her closer, and Regan clung on, breathing in and smelling her sister. It was the smell of running races after school, of laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe. It was the smell of family and love and the only person she’d ever fought to protect.

  In that moment, her fears, her scars, all the filth that had clogged her soul for the past decade came loose and helplessly, she cried, “What did I do?” She’d never known what she’d done to make him target her. “Why did he do it?”

  “You did nothing,” her sister spoke thickly. Stevie hadn’t let her go, her chin digging into the curve of her shoulder as she spoke. “My beautiful girl, you did nothing. And I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

  Stevie was sorry. She was taking Regan back. Relief ran down her throat with her next breath.

  Then her sister asked, “Why did you stay away so long?”

  The question she’d been asking herself for years. “I was too scared.” Terrified that if she went back, Jason would know and find a way to make her pay. “Then I was too ashamed. I’d never have been able to tell you—I’ve hardly managed it now—and I couldn’t come back without an explanation. Then the guilt mounted and the longer I left it, the harder it got, until I figured you were better off without me. I didn’t know how to trust people, so I cut myself off. I guess I didn’t have a voice of reason.” Just her own thoughts, circling around and around, going nowhere positive. “Last week, I finally realized that even if you were better off without me, I wasn’t better off without you. I need you in my life, Stevie.” She paused and placed her head on the chopping block. “Will you let me stay?”

  “I won’t let you leave.” Stevie’s hug hardened, and Regan closed her eyes, love burning through her disbelief.

  Her contentment was short lived. When they pulled apart, Regan smiled wetly over her shoulder—to an empty room.

  Felix was gone.

  “Where’s Felix?” She heard the alarm in her voice.

  “I’m not sure.” Stevie sniffled and wiped under her eyes. “Probably giving us privacy.”

  Regan stood slowly, gaze darting from the door to the balcony. “He heard everything. And then he left.”

  “Maybe he’s telling the others we’re okay.”

  “Maybe.” But she didn’t think so.

  The news would have affected him differently than Stevie. He had slept with her, had wanted more than sex. He’d drawn her close, her tainted and weak body, mistaking it for something desirable. He was probably running for the sea, urgent to wash himself clean. Before she could help it, tears rushed to her eyes and she dropped her face, turning away.

  “Hey.” A rustle told her Stevie had stood and then a hand rested on her shoulder. “What have I missed?”

  No more secrets. “It’s been a big few days.”

  “Out with it.”

  Here goes nothing. “Felix and I might have fallen for each other. We also might have slept together, and there’s every chance I rejected his hope for more because I was too scared he would be disgusted by what I’ve just told you—and it turns out that I was right.”

  She turned cautiously and caught her sister’s blank look of information overload.

  “Here I was,” Stevie murmured, “just living my life like nothing had changed, all the while, my sister was back in town getting heavy with my best friend. I can hardly comprehend what that means. Wait.” Her gaze sharpened. “He bought a Christmas tree for you?”

  “I didn’t know he was allergic until you said it.” She excused quickly.

  “Oh, man, he’s so gone on you.” Then her eyes pinned her again, wide with hurt. “Wait. You heard that? You were on the other end of the line and you didn’t talk to me?”

  Guilt stabbed afresh. “I was psyching myself up to it. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  “Stop, stop, it doesn’t matter.” Stevie put a hand to her forehead. “I’m sensing a well-meaning but poorly executed plan.”

  Regan let out a shuddering breath.

  “As for Felix,” her sister continued, “he’s probably doing something sickeningly sweet. It’s not possible he could think any less of you for what you’ve been through. Not even a little.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Well, I do. I also know that I could do with a heavy drink.”

  Now that she mentioned it, so could Regan.

  “Let’s go downstairs.” There was wonder in Stevie’s eyes, and a dazed kind of incredulity. “I’ve got something to share with you.”

  Chapter Ten

  Felix strode across the beach, bare feet sinking into the warm sand as fury tore through him like a gale. It raged within the confines of his chest and he had no way of letting it out.

  He’d forgotten how pathetic it felt to be powerless. The emotional agitation of being unable to act, to bring change, to do anything. The way that built into an excruciating helplessness, trapped behind bars that refused to bend. Powerlessness had lived in him for years, a teeth-clenching, fist-budding inability to change his father’s mind, to show him that having an interest in computing was not a cross against his masculinity, no matter that his dad had come from a line of men who’d all grown muscle for a living and worshipped the holy spirit of the macho man.

  Felix was powerless again.

  Unable to help the girl Regan had been.

  Furious, frustrated, he veered towards the water. Twilight had eased the summer heat by a few degrees and he sought to pummel the sea, an outlet that could hold its own.

  He’d lived next door and hadn’t known. He’d hung out at their house with Stevie and hadn’t felt that something was amiss. He’d chatted with Jason and hadn’t suspected the scum beneath the smile. It cut him that Regan had figured out his fa
ther’s abuse, but he hadn’t caught the slightest hint of hers. She’d been defenseless, too scared to speak out. She had needed him to notice, to recognize the warning signs and help put an end to it.

  Instead, he’d passed off her behavior as a phase.

  The sudden change in her personality. The deflections, the self-destruction. Withdrawing from the people who cared, just so she could stop caring about herself. It had all been right in front of him and he’d been as blind as a fool.

  Despite the damage done, she’d still had the strength to protect her sister. More strength than she realized—even now, she was steel mistaking herself for tin. But even steel had its weaknesses and all too easily could Felix understand why she hadn’t spoken out. He had experienced such silence firsthand.

  Shame muted victims.

  He stripped his shirt over his head, kicked off his shoes, and strode into the water. He deserved the cold shock, needed to feel the pain of it against his skin. He had slept with her and hadn’t known to be mindful of triggers. To tell her that he found her magnificent inside and out—that he hadn’t gone to bed with her because her appearance drove him to it.

  Desperate, he thought back, fearing he’d acted in a way that could’ve made her feel pressured. Horror sliced him at the possibility that it was why she’d left so quickly afterwards, but no, she’d commanded the situation. She had dictated the pace at the jazz club. She’d urged him on as they put up the lights. She’d wrapped her legs around him and asked for somewhere more comfortable, consent on her tongue and desire dark in her eyes. She hadn’t been passive. Not in the instigation or the act itself. Regan had taken control until her breath halted and her body contracted around him, filling his apartment with her cry of completion.

  Felix froze. Waves crashed over his thighs and the silhouette of a lighthouse towered tall on his right. He’d walked a long way and now he stood, stunned by awareness. Regan had given herself to him. At her most vulnerable, she’d trusted him to touch her; felt safe enough to let her body take over. With him, she’d been free.

  With him, sex had meant something good.

  The significance of that overthrew his powerlessness and he turned, pushing against the drag of the tide.

  He’d kept his distance today. Understood that Stevie had been at the front of her mind and didn’t deserve to be nudged aside.

  Now, she had her sister back. She’d released a painful secret and probably felt a thousand times lighter. She could stop living in fear; stop believing she couldn’t embrace love.

  The sand stuck to his feet as he picked up speed.

  He prayed she wanted to embrace his.

  People crammed into the bar downstairs as Regan and Stevie emerged. The jubilant atmosphere was buoyed with laughter and toasts celebrating another year over and a summer break ahead. A live band had started playing coastal pop on a small stage in the back corner, fronted by a young man whose afro bounced to the beat a second after he did. The floor was sticky with spilled liquid, the air heavy with body heat and a humidity that the industrial-strength indoor fans couldn’t conquer.

  The sister in Regan wanted to join the party, rejoicing their reunion and the bright future that had opened up before her. The lover in her couldn’t rest until she’d found Felix. Stevie might be certain he still desired her, but the wounded girl in her couldn’t believe it. With her stomach in knots, she had to know either way.

  The crowd parted briefly and Regan caught sight of Felix’s friends still sitting in the corner booth. He wasn’t with them.

  “Do you mind if I find Fee?” she asked over the noise.

  Stevie turned anxious eyes on her. “Um. Could I just do this first?”

  Nerves fraying, Regan had to accept that after eight years, she couldn’t make her sister wait for anything. “Sure.”

  Smiling weakly, Stevie took her hand and led the way through the cram. Jed sat in the corner of the far side of the booth, with Dee beside him. The back of Alexia’s caramel hair was visible on the closer side, the high booth back stopping just below her nape.

  “It’s possible I forgot to tell you about him,” Dee was saying as they drew near, watching the lead singer on stage. “But listen to that voice. And his hair, sweetheart, how could I have resisted?”

  Her husband looked unfazed. “It is very impressive hair.”

  Stevie stopped just shy of the booth, using her grip to hold Regan back.

  “Hello.” Alexia twisted to smile up at them. “Make space guys, let the girls sit.”

  “Thanks, but first—” Stevie’s attention darted to the space beside Alexia. “Regan, I’d like you to meet someone.” Then she released her grip, allowing Regan to move forward, and inclined her head at the vacant end seat. “This is Zach. Zach, this is my sister, Regan.”

  Must be shortie, Regan thought in surprise. Then she stepped forward and twisted to look at the man her sister loved.

  A boy stared back.

  The entire table seemed to stop breathing with her.

  “What?” Regan said dumbly. Zach was a child?

  Then the full power of that realization hit her like a fifteen tonne truck. Stunned, head spinning, she gripped the tabletop. With spiky white-blonde hair and a steady stare, the boy was unmistakably Stevie’s son. There were traces of someone else in his features, unfamiliar hazel eyes and a wide jaw. In horror, she noted that while it wasn’t possible for him to be over eight, he didn’t look much younger.

  “Regan?” Zach frowned at his mum. “You didn’t tell me she was going to be here.”

  “I didn’t know either.”

  “Has she said sorry?” he demanded, casting a critical glare at Regan.

  Stevie’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Yes. Be nice.”

  “What am I supposed to say?” he asked next. “She’s just staring at me.”

  Stevie didn’t answer, but her foot collided with his under the table.

  He looked back at Regan and sighed in dismay. “She’s crying, Mum.”

  “So talk to her.”

  Zach shifted, scratching his shoulder. “So you’re my aunty, huh?”

  Regan’s vision blurred. This was her nephew. A whole family member she hadn’t known about. Her sister’s son. How many years had she missed of his life? How many times had Stevie needed support and she hadn’t been around to give it? She’d run to protect Stevie, kept her distance for the same reason, but it wrenched her insides to wonder whether things might have happened differently had she known the magnitude of what she was leaving behind.

  This.

  She’d missed this.

  “Mum’s talked about you. I didn’t really believe you existed, but, hey, I didn’t believe in being grounded until this year.” His expression hardened. “I should’ve known you did. Mum wouldn’t cry over nothing.”

  “Zach!”

  His eyelids flew wide. “What? It’s true! Don’t ground me again, it’s Christmas.” Then he smiled so winningly, it was no wonder he’d escaped discipline until this year.

  “Christmas isn’t until tomorrow,” Stevie murmured.

  “I’m a kid—Christmas is the whole of December.”

  “No such safe zone, buddy.”

  He rolled his eyes. The exchange was so normal, so indicative of the relationship between mother and son that Regan looked helplessly between them. “I’m—”

  She was what? Too late to say sorry. She couldn’t change the past, couldn’t make up for lost time. Dark, dangerous places, those missed opportunities. But she was here now and would stay that way. She had to look forward—and that was at the boy before her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, running the back of her hand over her cheeks. “I didn’t know you existed until just now.”

  “I know, Mum said, ’cause you left her before she knew she was pregnant.”

  That tripped her. Regan gaped at Stevie. “Before you were or before you knew you were?”

  Her sister held her gaze and answered softly, “Before I knew.�
��

  The implications of that tore her heart from her body. “Oh, my God.”

  “We’ve got a lot to catch up on,” Stevie murmured.

  “And that’s our cue,” Dee said with a sniffle. “Alexia, Jed, fancy a night walk to the lighthouse?”

  “Sure.” Alexia’s voice was damp.

  There was a minute of shuffling as the others all slid out of the booth and said their goodnights. When Dee moved in for a hug, Regan murmured, “We might need that bar tab later.” Dee’s hug tightened and she said, “I’ll check back in an hour.” Then it was just the three of them sitting there, with Regan beyond overwhelmed and wondering where the hell Felix was and why he hadn’t told her that she had a nephew.

  “He’s a whole person,” she said to Stevie, unable to take her eyes off him. “Your person.” She shook her head in equal parts wonder and regret. “He talks like you.”

  “He can hear like her, too,” Zach answered, spitting an ice-block back into his lemonade.

  Stevie snorted. “My life would be easier if smart mouths and sharp ears didn’t run in the family.”

  Regan managed a smile. A decade of questions rushed to her tongue—questions that would take time and tact. Not things to blurt out in front of a child when she couldn’t predict the answers.

  Zach shifted, sitting up on his knees. “Where’s Felix?”

  “Not sure.” Stevie shot her a curious look. “Maybe Regan should go find him.”

  She should, despite having no strength for another emotional upheaval tonight.

  “Okay,” she said, gut churning as she stood. “Yeah.”

  Jerkily, she moved off into the crowd. She couldn’t shake the feeling that finding Felix was digging a hole for her heart and every step made it deeper. Pushing down nerves, she headed for the door.

  “Hey.” A man stepped into her path so suddenly that she bumped her forehead against his neon singlet. He had bronzed skin, surf-mussed hair, and a cap on backwards. A can of cheap beer was wrapped in his fist and he looked down at her with the one-dimensional smile of a man on the hunt. “You don’t have a drink. I’ll get you one.”