by Kaylee Ryan
Colton leans back, his arm extended over the backrest of my chair. His thumb lazily draws circles below my shoulder blade, spreading awareness through my blood. Although, I’m always aware of Colton. “But you were fourteen. What were you going to do, give her a ride on the handlebars of your bike?” he teases.
“You’re a dick,” Chase mumbles, taking a drink of his iced tea, and again, drawing laughter from everyone at the table.
“You boys were always fighting over girls back then,” Connie says, shaking her head.
“It’s not my fault they all wanted the younger Callahan,” Chase tells his mom.
“They wanted you like they wanted a rash,” Colton mumbles.
“Speaking of rashes,” Harrison says, glancing over at Colton with an evil gleam in his eyes.
“Uh, no. We’re not going there,” Colton states, drawing a line on the table.
Harrison and Chase burst out laughing. “How did you get the chickenpox again?” Harrison asks, ignoring that invisible line Colton just laid down.
“Fuck you,” he whispers, making everyone giggle.
“I don’t think I’ve heard this one,” Gabby says, her hand rubbing circles on her belly.
“And you’re not going to,” Colton replies, turning and looking at me. “You ready to go?”
I glance over at his younger brother and have to admit, I’m really curious. “Actually…”
Chase and Harrison laugh, while Colton just closes his eyes and groans. “I’m not getting out of this, am I?”
“Nope. Just tell the story, big brother. Tell your girlfriend all about how you got chickenpox in high school.”
“What was her name again? Cori? Candy? Clarissa?” Harrison asks.
Colton is silent for a second before he confirms, “Calena.”
“Ahh, yes, that’s it. Calena,” Harrison says, proudly bouncing his daughter on his knee.
“Calena gave my brother the chickenpox,” Chase tells me, a wide smile on his face. “Tell her where, Colt.”
“Yeah, Colt, tell her where,” Harrison chimes in as if they’re a comedic duo telling a big joke.
“Mom doesn’t want to hear this,” Colton insists.
Connie laughs. “Mom’s already figured this out, Colton.”
Colton’s dad, Wes, sets his tea glass down and adds, “Besides, it wasn’t that hard to figure out. I mean, you had chickenpox on your peter….”
I gasp and glance at a mortified Colton. “Seriously?”
Gabby giggles. “She gave you chickenpox down under?”
Colton holds up his hands. “I can’t believe we’re talking about this at the dinner table. And in front of my son,” he argues, glancing over at Milo, who’s sitting in the high chair, happily gnawing on a cold teether.
“Leave him out of it,” Chase contends, “and just tell your girlfriend about your itchy peter.”
“You have to tell the story now, Colt. These two will never let it go. Or worse, they’ll tell the story how they want to,” Gwen says, a knowing grin on her face. She knows her husband and his best friend well. Even I know they’ll tell the story with tons of embellishments, all not very flattering to Colton. That’s what little brothers do, right?
“Fine,” he grumbles, looking down at his empty glass—anywhere but at us around the table. “I was seventeen and dating a girl name Calena. She didn’t know yet she had chickenpox,” he says, glancing my way.
“And I take it, she gave them to you,” I deduce, not wanting to draw out his misery anymore.
“On his little willy,” Chase bellows with a laugh.
“It’s not so little. I got all the good Callahan genes,” Colton argues, giving his brother a smug grin.
“I’m not so sure about that,” Gabby chimes in as she fights her own smile. The way she looks at her husband tells me all I need to know about something I really don’t want to know anything about.
“That’s right, baby,” Chase croons at his wife and nods.
“Tell them,” Colton says, and I realize he’s talking to me.
“What?” I gasp, my eyes surely bugging out of my head.
“Tell them who clearly is packing the heat below the belt,” Colton instructs, leaning back with his own smug grin.
“I will not!” I insist, my eyes connecting with his parents. I can feel the blush already taking over my face.
“The blush says it all,” Colton tells his brother as he pulls me into his side and kisses my forehead.
“Anyway,” Chase interrupts, “as my delusional brother was saying, he got itchy dick from his girlfriend, but didn’t realize it was the pox until Mom had to take him to the doctor.”
Colton groans. “We’re back on this?”
Chase just looks at his brother. “We never left it, Colt. You just tried to distract us with talk about your little dick.”
“Wait, you went to the doctor?” Gabby asks, her eyes dancing with humor.
“Oh, I had to take him. It was about three or four days later when he started a rash,” Connie says, telling the rest of the story. “I caught him discretely scratching his area several times, and I was afraid it was something else.”
“Crabs,” Chase adds.
Connie nods. “You never know, and I wasn’t going to let my son have a crab infestation.”
“Jesus,” Colton mumbles, rubbing his forehead. “It wasn’t crabs, okay?”
“Well, we know that now, don’t we?” she says to her son. Then, she looks at me and adds, “We didn’t know it at the time. I suspected he had something going on down below because he started to get a rash on his thighs and lower stomach, so I took him to the doctor to get a prescription. I didn’t want him spreading crabs to the family through the toilet seat.”
“It was chickenpox! I had it everywhere, not just on my groin!” Colton hollers, startling Milo in his high chair. The baby starts to fuss, but when Colton goes to take him out, he starts to reach for me. Colton just glances my way, a small smile playing on his lips as he nods for me to step in and take the fussy baby.
“Anyway, it turns out it was just chickenpox,” Connie confirms, “and they just had to run its course, but they appeared all over his chest and arms pretty quickly too.”
“I kept him home for three days,” Wes adds. “It was horrible watching your son scratch all day long.”
“And Calena was out too since she had them all over her body,” Chase chimes in.
I start to stand and gently sway with Milo against my chest. He reaches up and grabs my hair but doesn’t pull it. He just wraps his little hand around a strand and holds it.
“Now that we’ve discussed how I got chickenpox in high school, I think I’ll take my son and my girlfriend—if she doesn’t leave me because of my inappropriate family—home.” He gives me a look with a silent smile, letting me know he doesn’t think I’ll actually leave him. At least not for something like this.
“Actually, you didn’t really say how you got them,” Gabby says, her tiny little devil horns popping up from her head, making me grin from ear to ear. Chase laughs.
It wouldn’t take much imagination to guess how he got chickenpox in high school.
“And we’re not going to,” Colton says as he heads over to retrieve the diaper bag.
“Next time,” Harrison adds, glancing down at his daughter. “We’re out too. This one needs a bath and a bottle.”
“Oh, Harrison, I made you up a little to-go bag. I had some extra chocolate chip cookies, so I threw those in there too,” Connie says, heading over to the counter and grabbing the grocery sack.
“What the hell?” Chase says, glancing at his brother.
“Seriously? You’re sending all the cookies with Harrison? He’s not even a son,” Colton argues.
Connie just rolls her eyes. “I have some for you two as well.”
“But we all know who her favorite is,” Harrison says, heading over to give Connie a hug. “Thanks, Mama Callahan.”
“You’re welcome, my
boy.”
I can see the love between them, and it pings my heart with sadness. I was close to Tina’s mom too. Often, I’d be invited over to their house for dinners or celebrations. After my own Mom moved away, and Grandma was put in the nursing home, her family sort of became my family. I’ve missed Tina these last few weeks, but now I’m missing her little family too. They weren’t as big and loud as the Callahans, but it was nice to belong.
We all say goodbye, and I help get Milo situated in his seat. We throw the blanket over his head and make our way to Colton’s truck, the cold winds blowing in more snow.
“Oh, Colt, we’re having Christmas dinner here. Will that work for you and Hollis?” Connie asks from the front porch.
He glances my way, and if he notices the tears swimming in my eyes, he doesn’t say anything. “Will that work for you?” he whispers, squeezing my hand in comfort.
“Yeah,” I croak over the lump in my throat. “That would be fine.”
“Sounds good, Mom. Just text me what you want us to bring,” Colton says as he leads me the rest of the way to his truck.
Inside, the cab is already warm as I slip inside and rub my hands on my jeans. After Colton gets the car seat secured, he jumps in the driver’s seat and glances my way. “You okay?”
I nod instantly. “Yeah.”
“I know my family can be a lot. If you’re not ready for something like Christmas—” he starts, but I cut him off.
“No, it’s not that. I’m honored they’d invite me along,” I assure him.
“Well, you’re part of the family now,” he whispers, bringing my hand to his mouth and running his lips over my knuckles. “They want you here, but if it’s too much, too soon for you, all you have to do is say so.”
“It’s not, Colt, I swear.” I take a deep breath. “It just reminds me of Tina and her parents. She has an older brother too, who wasn’t always at dinners, but they usually tried to include me after my mom moved to Florida. Tonight just made me miss them a little more.”
He gazes at me from across the seat, his eyes full of compassion and understanding. “Have you talked to Tina much?”
I nod. “We text all the time.”
“But it’s not the same,” he concludes.
“No,” I whisper, hating the emotions that are suddenly bubbling up, as if from out of nowhere.
“I can’t replace your best friend, sweetheart, but I’m here for you. My family too,” he tells me as he pulls me across the console and wraps his arms around my neck. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” I whisper, absorbing all his heat and support as I cling around his neck. “Thank you.”
He kisses me on the forehead again as Milo lets out a holler, letting us know he’s not happy to just be sitting here. Colton straightens and buckles up. “You don’t ever have to thank me for loving you, Hollis. Ever. That’s the easiest thing in the world to do.”
And with that, he backs out of his parents’ driveway and heads for home.
With Christmas in a week, I start to panic. I’ve completed a handful of jobs in the last few weeks, including All Fit’s website and branding package, as well as other site designs and restructures. My bank account is comfortable, which is why I’m heading out today to go Christmas shopping. I’ve already sent Tina a package, but still have Mom and Grandma to take care of, as well as Milo, Colton, and a hostess gift for his parents, Connie and Wes.
I got this.
It’ll be fun, especially with my little sidekick, Milo, in tow.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay today? It’s supposed to snow again later,” Colton says as he fills up his water bottle in the kitchen.
Milo’s on my hip, holding my hair, as he does most nights as he tries to fall asleep, babbling as if he’s in the conversation with his dad. “We’ll be fine. Won’t we, Milo?” I ask, bending down and raspberry kissing his chubby cheek.
“How about if you take my truck? I’ll drive your car to the gym,” he offers, drying his hands on a hand towel and tossing it on the counter.
I want to smile in return. If I’ve learned anything about Colton Callahan in the last month, it’s that he’s protective of his son, and me. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll take your truck.”
He nods and grabs my car keys off the counter, which are right beside his. After our discussion about what I saw in California, he made sure I have keys to all the doors, including the front one that he uses. He runs outside and starts my car so he can take it, letting it warm up. While the temperature isn’t consistent with what I imagine winter in the Midwest to be, it definitely has some very chilly mornings. One thing I’ve learned is that Mother Nature can be a little whacky. One day she’s fifty and beautiful, and the next twenty degrees and snowing.
It’s definitely taking some getting used to.
“The truck is ready when you’re ready,” he insists as he comes back inside and wraps his arms around me and Milo. When he got the garage ready, I insisted he park his truck in there. Not only is he the owner of the house, but it’s the usual vehicle to transport Milo. He argued up one side and down the other, but in the end, when I threw his son into the equation, he relented.
“Thank you,” I tell him, just as I lean up on my tiptoes and swipe my lips against his. He tastes like mint and coffee, and so very much like Colton. I’m not sure I’ll ever get enough.
“Are you sure you even need to leave today?” he asks. He’ll be gone most of the day. As Christmas approaches, the gym has been hopping as everyone gets all their sessions and classes in before the holidays. His self-defense classes have been sold out, and Harrison is considering adding another in the new year. I’m excited for him, but I know he’s torn. More time at the gym means more time away from Milo.
He still goes to Gwen’s, but only three days a week. Any other time, he’s home with me. I’m able to get a lot of work done on those three days, and then a little when I’m with Milo. But to be completely honest, I’d much rather spend my day with him on the floor, rolling over and sitting up, than working on my computer.
“Yes, Mr. Worry Wart. I have to finish my Christmas shopping. If I don’t get my gifts for Mom and Grandma in the mail ASAP, they won’t get there in time. Besides, the snow isn’t supposed to start until this afternoon. We’ll head out soon, get our shopping done, and be home before the first flake falls,” I reassure him.
Colton sighs. “Okay, but be careful. People are crazy this time of year. I don’t need you getting hurt over a toaster.”
“First off, that’s Black Friday that brings out the crazies. And second, I wasn’t going to get you a toaster. I was thinking about a blender,” I tease, fighting to contain my smile.
Strong arms wrap around my torso as he pulls me against his chest. “A blender, huh? I do like to blend things.”
Milo bellows, before reaching up and smacking Colton in the face.
“Hey, little buddy, we don’t hit. No, no,” he tells his son sternly. Milo brings on the waterworks, ducking his head into my neck and holding on tight. “Awww,” Colton grumbles, reaching down and taking his son from my arms. Milo tries to hang on tight but is no match for his dad. “Listen, little man, I love you with all my heart, but you can’t hit. That’s not a good boy,” Colton instructs. Milo’s tear-filled eyes widen as he listens to his dad.
Milo leans into his chest and grabs his shirt.
“I’m Dada. Can you say Dada?” Colton asks, and I can hear the emotion in his voice.
The boy stares intently at his daddy’s lips and opens his mouth, like he’s mimicking Colton, but doesn’t make the right sound.
“I love you,” he adds as he hugs his son to his chest. When he pulls back, he looks down at Milo and says, “Now, you be a good boy for Hollis, okay? Make sure no boys mess with her.”
I know he means it goodheartedly, but I don’t miss the hint of worry in his voice too. Ever since I told him about California, he’s always very observant of our surroundings and watches me cl
osely. Even though I haven’t received a message since that one he saw, Colton is always mindful of where I am and who’s nearby. His brother put him in contact with a police officer friend who helped him track down Laura when all that went down this summer, but so far, they’ve come up empty in finding who sent me those messages. Maybe since I haven’t received any lately, they’ve finally let it go.
Let me go.
“All right, I need to go, or I’ll be late for my first session,” Colton says, kissing his son on the forehead and handing him back to me.
“We’ll see you when you get home. I’ll have dinner ready,” I tell him, propping Milo on my hip and giving Colton a kiss.
“Love you,” he says, those blue eyes so full of conviction. He smiles down at his son and adds, “Love you too.”
“We love you more,” I tell him, taking Milo’s hand and waving it goodbye.
“I’ll be back soon!” he hollers before he slips out the door to head to work.
“Well, Mr. Milo, let’s get ready to go. We have tons of shopping to do today. I hope you’re ready,” I announce as I gather the diaper bag and snacks for our shopping excursion.
Thirty minutes later, I’m walking into the first department store. I’m armed with my list and the baby, as we set out to grab the few things I need. I’m able to find a gorgeous lightweight sweater for my mom, which will be perfect for those cooler Florida nights, as well as some fancy lotions and body sprays. I find an adorable little shirt and bowtie set for Milo, and a Henley shirt in a smoky gray for Colton.
Not very personal gifts, but it’s a start.
My next stop is a gourmet candy shop. I find some fresh salted caramels I know my mom will love and some sugar-free mint and chocolate drops for Grandma. They even have a large sampler box with a variety of sweet treats, which I grab for Colton’s mom and dad.
As we head down the corridor of the shopping center, Milo hollers from his stroller seat. When I pull over to the side of the walkway, I grab the bottle of formula. “Need a drink, little man?” I ask, crouching down in front of the stroller. He reaches for it, instantly shoving the cup in his mouth.
Standing back up, I glance in the window of the store I’m in front of. It’s a photography shop. Inside, I see a woman on her hands and knees, posing a newborn on a cloud of white fluff. The baby is naked, except for a blue ribbon wrapped around his abdomen. The sign on the ribbon reads, “Heaven sent.”
