I walk down into the kitchen, rubbing my tired eyes as I go. My mom has French toast frying on the stove, the aroma of cinnamon buns permeates from the oven, and sizzling bacon pops on the back burner. Two large carafes filled with coffee and orange juice sit in the center of the table. My mom always goes all out and damn, do I love her cooking.
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” My mom smiles over her shoulder while simultaneously flipping one piece of French toast.
“Merry Christmas, Mom. Where’s Dad?”
“He’s dropping off some blankets and presents at the shelter in town. He’ll be home soon.” I’m sure Flynn is still sleeping and soon enough Carson and her little family will be here too.
Only a few minutes pass before my dad arrives with Carson and crew in tow. Ava makes a note of all the presents and in turn, Wren and Carson half laugh and half chastise her.
The timing is perfect as breakfast is ready and the table has been set. We’re just missing one final Fletcher.
“Luke, can you go wake up your sister?”
I groan but climb the stairs and walk down the hall to her room. It’s nine o’clock on Christmas morning. You’d think she could drag herself out of bed today of all days. I try the handle to her room and of course, the door is locked. I don’t hear any sounds of life on the other side and waking her up is akin to waking the dead.
I knock on the door and when I don’t get a response, I knock harder. “Flynn, wake up.”
“Go away.” Since I don’t have time to play games, I barter with her.
“Get up and I’ll give you a gram of my pot.” She opens the door with that promise and I notice she’s already fully dressed. The little brat was already awake and now I have to share my weed. Dammit.
Her smile is saccharine. “Thanks, bro. Merry Christmas.” She heads downstairs to join our family in the dining room.
Ava yells, “Hey, Aunt Flynn!” to which my sister replies, “‘Sup, kid?” which is about as heartfelt as she gets.
My niece adores my baby sister, but I’m sure Carson is glad Flynn doesn’t try harder to bond with Ava. I can only imagine the repercussions of that relationship.
We devour our breakfast and my niece is antsy to open her presents. Even Flynn seems to be in a good mood today. The magic of Christmas really is something. Maybe my rebellious little sis isn’t beyond saving after all, as long as the saving occurs on December 25th.
Opening presents mainly consists of Ava tearing through all of hers faster than any of us can open one. She easily has the most gifts, which consists of an abundance of clothes, motorized toy cars she can drive, movies, a tablet, and other games. She’s frenzied as she moves through one gift to the next, barely caring about the actual gift and more so about ripping through the paper.
My parents gave Carson and me brand new cars; mine for graduating and hers to celebrate Carson’s engagement. Flynn is, of course, pissed she doesn’t get a new car. Instead, Flynn’s big gift this year was a makeover of the pool house my parents are finally letting her move into.
Meanwhile, my siblings and I each pitched in to buy our parents an all-expenses paid vacation to the Maldives.
“What’d you get for Christmas, Aunt Flynn?” Our niece jumps into my sister’s lap, her freckled face full of happiness and joy.
“A new therapist.” Flynn’s tone is bright and cheery as if she’s bribing a dog with a treat, but Carson isn’t happy with the words she’s using.
Although, she should be happy she said a new therapist instead of telling her about the pot I slipped into her stocking once I came downstairs.
My mom pulls me to the side before I can hear the rest of the fight break out between my two sisters.
“What’s up, Mom?”
“I was hoping you’d give this to Olivia for me. I’d hoped to see her today, but I wasn’t sure if you were bringing her along. If you could pass it along to her I’d appreciate it.” My mom is all smiles and I don’t want to give her bad news on Christmas.
“We’re not exactly speaking at the moment, but I can do my best.” I reflect on her telling me to leave and my assumption is she never wanted to see or hear from me again.
Still, I take the rectangular box and card from my mom and put it on top of my pile of presents. I’ll do anything to see Liv again, even if she wants nothing to do with me.
“What happened?”
I don’t like to swear in front of my mom, but no other words do this situation justice. “I fucked up, Mom.” She’s thoughtful, nodding and pursing her lips.
“Excuse my French,” she winks at me. “Sometimes people fuck up, but that doesn’t mean you give up. That means you have to work harder to make up for it.” She speaks as if she knows what I’m going through, but Mom and Dad have a perfect relationship.
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is. If you love her and she makes you happy, you fight for her. Nothing else matters.” She’s stern. There’s a conviction in her voice that I’d never heard before. It makes me question my parents’ relationship in a way I never have until now.
“What am I supposed to do to win her back?” I await her wise response to clue me in to how to fix all my problems.
“Oh, Lucas.” Her voice is full of love. “Just be yourself. You’ll figure it out.” She hugs me and goes back out to join the holiday chaos.
Just be myself? Yeah, as if that won’t screw things up worse.
Once my mom calls Carson into the kitchen and they start wedding planning, I figure it’s a good time to excuse myself.
I sneak outside to think over what my mom said. I plan to go to my car and grab the joint I have stored in my glove box for a quick reprieve. Instead, I find my sister outside already lighting up, probably with the weed I gave her earlier.
She offers me the blunt which I happily take. I inhale, allowing the smoke to burn my throat and lungs, holding it in for several seconds before exhaling.
“What’s new with you, sis? What brings you out here, smoking pot alone on Christmas?” I ask as I pass the joint back. Flynn shrugs before inhaling.
“A new day, a new therapist. At this rate, I want to see how many I can scare off.” She laughs and rolls her eyes.
“Well, if you’d stop getting into fights and doing drugs…”
She waves her hand at the ridiculous notion. On the plus side, if she ever starts to date anyone seriously I won’t need to threaten to kick their ass for her. She’ll just do it herself.
“Where’s your girlfriend?” She puffs the joint once more before handing it back to me.
“She dumped me.”
“Smart girl.” I eye her angrily and her initial response is to shrug. “You’ll figure it out, bro. You always do.” There’s an edge to her voice that surprises me.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that everything always seems to work out for you and Carson.”
“Yeah, Carson losing her first boyfriend to cancer really was a blessing. Don’t be so ignorant, Flynn. I know you act all heartless and tough, but there’s emotion under that hard exterior somewhere. I see it with Ava and especially with Dad. If you grow up and stop acting like a selfish brat, things might work out for you too.” I stub out the joint and pocket it while my sister complains.
“Hey, that’s my pot.”
“Actually, it’s mine. You’re a teenager, Flynn. Go make memories with your family and enjoy being a kid while you can.” I head inside, leaving her alone.
I spend the rest of the day with my family, watching football until dinner is ready. Afterwards, I eat way too much dessert and play Candy Land with Ava before packing up my new car to head home.
But first, I have to make a pit stop.
Twenty-Three
Olivia
My apartment smells like fresh-baked cookies, National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation is on the TV, and yet my mood could give the Grinch a run for his money. Celebrating Christmas alone sucks.
I cook
myself a pathetic dinner and collapse on the couch with the bottle of wine Kenna gave me. I’m about halfway to drunk when there’s a knock on my door. With a groan, I push off the couch and stomp my way to the door.
There’s a tall, thin man on the other side. His sweater is worn and his jeans have a small hole forming on his knee. White sneakers complete the look and when I open the door, a small kind smile pulls at the man’s lips.
“Hi, can I help you?”
“Hi, are you Olivia Hart?” The man is quiet, timid. His hands are in his pockets and though he looks to be in his fifties, he’s cautious.
“Yes, I am.” I’m equally as wary as this stranger, maybe more so.
He runs a hand through his chestnut colored hair which is slightly receding in the front. “My name is Martin. Martin Hart. I’m your Dad.”
What. The Fuck.
“Excuse me?” My jaw is stuck to the floor and my eyes are hurting from keeping them so wide. I grasp the door for support, stumbling into the handle and bruising my hip.
I look at his sunken face, so different than the pictures I found in a box in Mom’s closet when I was a teenager.
His brown hair, though thinning, is the same color as mine. His blue eyes are the same color and shape as mine and his pointed nose could be the twin of my own.
Why now? What is he doing here?
“I’m sorry to drop in like this, but I thought it was time to meet, and I couldn’t think of a better day…Merry Christmas.” He produces a small box from his pocket. It’s a plain tan color with no bow or wrapping.
I open the lid and find a picture of him holding me as a baby. I saw this picture once before in Mom’s things, but for the most part, she hid my father from me.
Could this man really be my dad? What reason would he have to lie?
“Do you…want to come in?” His face lights up and his nod is emphatic.
He follows me inside and takes a hesitant seat on my couch. “Can I get you anything to eat or drink?”
“A water would be great.” I grab two bottles of water when all I want to do is keep drinking. This revelation sobered me right up when I could really use the buzz right now.
I sit down on the chair beside the couch, giving him and myself some breathing room. Neither of us seems to know what to say now. I start with the question that’s burning me the most.
“How did you find me?” As far as I know, my father left when I was a baby and never made contact with us again.
“I kept up with you through your mom since you were a kid. I heard when she passed away…she wrote me a letter, actually. She gave me your address and I’m guessing from the look on your face that she never told you any of this.” I shake my head. “I can’t say I blame her. She wanted me to clean up my act before coming to see you and getting to know you. She didn’t want me to hurt you.”
I steel myself, the red flags taking root in my brain. “Hurt me…how?”
“Emotionally. You don’t need to be scared of me, Olivia. I was a bit of a mess when you were born, which is why your mom kept me away from you.”
“What do you mean she kept you away?”
“It was for the best. She was doing what was best for you. She’s the best woman I’ve ever known and I’m sorry for her passing.” He clears his throat. He lifts the water from the coffee table, unscrewing the lid and taking a long swig. “There’s a lot we need to talk about and I don’t want to throw too much at you at once. I just…I wanted to meet you.”
He goes to stand up and groans with the effort. I have a bad taste in my mouth about this abrupt interaction, but I can’t put my finger on the cause.
“I’m glad you stopped by,” I tell him and he gives me a sad smile.
“I’m sorry it took me so long. Here is my number. I was hoping we could meet for lunch or dinner sometime this week? I want to learn everything about you.”
My heart swells, the walls around it crumbling piece by piece. “I’d like that.” I give him my number as well which he programs into an old school flip phone. “I’ll call you.” He waves goodbye and exits down the hall.
My eyebrows crinkle as I watch him leave, shoulders slumped and a slight limp to his gait. The elevator pings and he gets on. As soon as I’m shutting my door, someone else knocks on it. What the hell.
“For God’s sake.” I’m not in the mood for this today.
“I just came to give you this and I’m leaving.” Lucas hands me a box and a card which I don’t immediately take.
“I don’t want any more presents from you.”
“It’s not from me. It’s from my parents. I promised them I’d drop it off. I’m not trying to bother you.” I rub a hand across my forehead before snatching the gift from his hand.
“Tell them I say thanks.” I go to close the door, but his palm holds it open. “What the hell, Luke? I thought you were leaving, that you didn’t want to be a bother?”
“I just…are you okay? You look…sick or something.” Concern is etched on his face. The word vomit spews out of me.
“Oh, it’s nothing, I just met my father in what’s turning out to be the weirdest Christmas ever and he wants to get to know me.” I shrug, feigning nonchalance.
“Liv, that’s huge. Are you okay?”
“I don’t know, Luke. It’s just another thing I need to figure out.” I’m still stewing over what to do about Lucas.
I miss him and seeing him now, seeing how caring he can be, makes me realize just how acutely I want to be with him.
But I need more time and I can’t figure it out with him standing in front of me, looking all broody and sexy.
“I need some more time, okay? Just…give me some time.” A shadow of a smile pulls at his lips. It’s the first time I’ve admitted that I’m thinking of him, of us, and I gave him an ounce of hope.
All I know is, meeting my father is making my relationship with Lucas look like a walk in the damn park.
Twenty-Four
Olivia
The apartment door flies open and my roommate appears in the doorway, a heap of clothes and presents in hand. It’s been a week since I’ve seen her and three days since I met my dad. We have so much to catch up on and I don’t know where to start.
It’s Saturday night and I’ve already ordered our usual Chinese food. After dropping her things in her room, she joins me on our couch. We sit cross-legged, facing one another and ready to share all the gossip.
Whatever tea she has to spill, I already know I can top it.
“How are your parents?”
“Good. My brother’s dating some new skank. I hope you weren’t too lonely?”
“Oh, quite the opposite.” I let my remark simmer for a beat. “I met my dad.”
“You WHAT!? Way to bury the lead.” She’s leaned into me and her hands are braced on my calf.
“It was…weird. He was here for, like, five minutes. Just said he wanted to meet me, that we have a lot to talk about and that Mom kept him away. I don’t know what it means, but I’m definitely curious.”
“No shit. Are you going to see him again? What was he like? Do you look like him?” I can’t keep up with all of her questions.
“He’s lanky, almost like he’s sick? His clothes were old, but I can see the slight resemblance. He wants to meet up soon to catch up on the last twenty-three years of my life, I guess. And I have a lot of questions. I would regret not going and I’ve already missed this much time. I don’t know. My mom kept in touch with him, that’s how he found me.”
“But I thought you said she’s the one that kept him away?” I shrug. I don’t have any answers here. “Weird.”
“Very. Then Luke stopped by again.” She goes from shocked to pissed in the blink of an eye.
“Does that guy never give up?” I pick at my nails, ignoring her. “Liv.”
“Hmm?”
“Olivia.” My eyes sweep up to meet hers. “Did you sleep with him again?”
“What? No, of course not.”
“But you’re thinking about it.”
“I don’t know,” I whisper and I mean those words. I really don’t know what I want yet.
“Liv! Why? Don’t let him get into your head. Or heart or pants for that matter. He hurt you. He embarrassed you. He played you. Do I need to go on?”
“Enough, McKenna. I just said I’m thinking about it, not that I’m saddling up as we speak. I have more important things to worry about right now anyway.”
“Okay, I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to get hurt again.” I understand where she’s coming from, but her bluntness can be harsh.
Our food gets delivered and we sit in uncomfortable silence.
“Can you pass the sesame chicken?” I finally ask.
“Only if you forgive me,” she retorts.
I give her a smirk paired with my eye roll, and we’re able to move past the awkwardness.
“Let’s talk New Year’s.”
Every year, Kenna drags me to this insane party in the wildest club downtown. This year, for some reason, feels different.
“Aren’t we a little old for that scene? We’re teachers now. We have to be upstanding, trustworthy citizens.”
She lifts an eyebrow like I’m insane. “We’re not nuns. I’m sure our teachers shot-gunned beers and did beer bongs too; we just didn’t know it. It’s not like we’ll live-stream it through our schools. We’re allowed to have fun and let loose.”
I know she’s right but I’d hoped to ring in the New Year with a kiss from Lucas. A wild party doesn’t sound like my idea of a good time right now.
“A night out is exactly what you need and I’m not taking no for an answer.” She crosses her arms over her chest and I can hear the metaphorical foot stomp accompanying it.
“Fine, but by 12:01 I’m coming home.”
“Don’t get too wild on me now. Do I need to make a bet with you to be more fun?” The twinkle in her eye tells me she’s joking, but I don’t find it funny.
Fearless (A Carolina Coastal Novel Book 2) Page 11
