by Magan Vernon
Chapter 11
Christmas season in Texas was like everywhere else in the country. If by that it meant over-the-top lights, cowboy hats, and temperatures in the sixties.
I hadn’t been home for the holidays in years. I was always working in retail or in a call center that wouldn’t give me the time off. I always spent Christmas alone in the apartment while Drake went to see his family. I had wine and, for a while, a cat named Mittens that eventually ran away. Thus, I always hated everything about the holiday, but this year was different. This year was back to the Christmas of old times.
Well, except for the big fact that Dad wasn’t around.
“So when are we going to get the tree out of the attic?” I asked Mom while she stirred a pot of chili on the stove.
It was almost mid-December, and not one decoration was up in the house.
Mom stilled before she slowly started stirring again. “You know, I thought maybe this year we would just do something small. Maybe we could get one of those little light up fluorescent trees or something,” she said, not looking up from the pot.
“What? How the hell is Santa going to fit gifts under that?” I asked, standing up from the barstool at the kitchen island and walking over to the stove, leaning on the counter.
Mom smirked. “Baby, not even Vi believes in Santa anymore. And with you and Clay getting ready to move, I just thought maybe we shouldn’t make a big mess.”
I put my hand on Mom’s, stopping her movements. “Mom. I know Dad’s gone, and this has been one hell of a few months for all of us, but that doesn’t mean we should stop celebrating. Clay and I are leaving, but we’ll just be a few miles up the road. And we can’t shortchange Violet on the holiday. We all need this, Mom.”
Mom sighed and then finally nodded. “Okay. When Clay gets home, you two can get the tree and decorations out of the attic.”
“And make Christmas cookies in our pajamas?” I asked, wiggling my eyebrows.
Mom laughed. “And make Christmas cookies in your pajamas.”
“Maybe you can take some of these cookies over to the Jahid house when they’re done,” Mom said, adding some frosting buttons on her gingerbread man.
“Yeah. Maybe,” I said, keeping my eyes on my snowflake cookie.
“I’m sure Brooke would like to give Eddie her cookies,” Clay said, laughing.
“Clay? Where did you learn that?” Mom said, shushing him as I glared.
“What? Some guys were talking about these girls always wanting their nuts at recess. I assumed it was nuts in some peanut butter cookies,” Clay said, lying through his teeth.
Mom looked over at the couch where the TV was on, but Dad was half-asleep.
“Honey! Help me out here?” she yelled.
Dad snorted, waking himself up and rubbing his eyes. “Clay, leave Brooke alone.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “Real helpful, honey.”
Dad stood up, walking over to the table. He kissed Mom’s cheek before putting his hands on her shoulders. “Okay, what are we fighting about now?” he asked, raising his eyebrow at me.
Before I could answer, the cordless phone in the kitchen started ringing.
“I’ll get it!” I yelled, jumping from my chair and running to the island. Anything not to have to have an awkward talk with my dad about nuts.
“Hello?” I asked, practically out of breath. I really needed to actually run in gym class instead of half-walking my way through the class.
“Hey, Brooke. It’s Eddie.”
Of course. I’d know his drawl anywhere. The one that made my heart skip a beat.
“Hey, what’s up?” I asked, trying to keep my breathing even as I turned away from my brother, who was making kissy faces at the table.
“Just seeing if you weren’t working and you wanted to hang out,” he said.
“Oh. Yeah. Cool. Pick me up and head to the pond?” I asked.
“Meaning you’re gonna get something out of your daddy’s liquor cabinet for us?”
I laughed, glancing over my shoulder. “Something like that.”
***
It was a mild December evening. We’d already had the first snow, but it quickly melted, and now it had dropped into the fifties. I snuck some of my dad’s liquor into the two travel mugs of hot cocoa that Mom insisted I pack, along with a tray of cookies.
I slipped everything into my backpack, along with Eddie’s Christmas gift, and went outside to see Eddie at the back door on his four-wheeler.
Without saying a word, I hopped on the back and wrapped my arms around his waist, inhaling his way-too-strong cologne. He’d started wearing something he bought in one of those stores with too loud of music and pre-ripped clothing. I hated how much he put on but didn’t want to tell him.
By the time we got out to the pond, the smell of his cologne had dissipated.
“I hope that’s your mom’s homemade hot cocoa and cookies,” Eddie said as I eased my backpack off and set it on the ground near the half-fallen tree branch where we usually sat.
“Maybe,” I said, handing him one of the mugs.
He sat down next to me, taking a long sip before a huge grin crossed his face. “You’re the best, Brooke.”
I wished he would think of me as more than just ‘the best.’ Clay was partially right; I did want Eddie’s nuts. Not exactly his nuts … but him. We’d been best friends forever, and I’d had a crush on him for as long as I could remember. Now, it was time for me to get up the courage and make my move.
“I have something else for you,” I said. I tried to keep my voice smooth but knew it had to squeak slightly.
“Yeah? Cookies?” he asked.
I pulled a box out of my book bag wrapped with Santa paper. “Merry Christmas, Eddie. A few days early.”
“Holy hell, Brooke. I didn’t think you were going to get me anything.”
I rolled my eyes. “We’ve been getting each other gifts since we were five. Don’t tell me you thought I was gonna stop.”
Luckily, he smiled and pulled a small bag out of the pocket of his cargo pants. “Of course not. Merry Christmas, Brooke.”
I took the bag and watched as he quickly unwrapped the box then opened it up. His eyes widened as he pulled out the George Strait style white Resistol hat. I’d saved my tips for weeks to get it and hoped it would show that the guy meant something to me more than the usual mixtape I made.
He put the white hat on his head, and I swore he looked years older and more like the country singer that he craved to be. “Now, you’re making me feel like an ass that I didn’t get you something better.”
“Please, I wanted to. When you’re playing shows in Nashville, you can’t go out in your old rodeo hat,” I said, opening up the blue bag and unwrapping the tissue paper.
With my penchant for the theater, Eddie usually got me some sort of movie or movie memorabilia, but this year, I was staring at a blue jar candle with a picture of some little kids in the snow.
“Warm Winter Memories,” I said, reading the label and taking a big whiff. The thing smelled like my grandma’s basement in Iowa and nothing like a happy winter memory.
“Yeah, Ashley helped me pick that out. She said it was the scent of Christmas season,” Eddie said, pointing at the jar.
“Ashley?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah ... you remember ... that girl I was talking to in a Country Music Lover’s chatroom,” he said, his eyes looking everywhere but at me.
“The one who I said was probably just an old man trying to get you alone and give you candy?” I asked.
He laughed. “Yeah, well, she isn’t. She works at some candle store in Rockwall, and she helped me pick it out. Then we went out for burgers after. She’s a really nice girl. I like her a lot, and I think you’ll like her too. Maybe when I hang out with her again, I’ll bring her into Conti’s when you’re working.”
Tears stung my eyes, but I held them back and took a big gulp of my hot chocolate. At that moment, I knew Eddie Ja
hid didn’t feel the same way about me and probably never would.
“Yeah, sounds great,” I muttered.
“So what did you get Mom for Christmas?” Clay asked as I put up my laptop.
It was Christmas Eve, and Mom was curling Violet’s hair for the church service, which left Clay and me by ourselves with a bottle of wine.
“Some books. I had some money left in my Amazon account, and who doesn’t like books?” I asked.
It was half the truth. I did have money in my Amazon account, but most of the books I got for gifts were from other authors I had met in Austin, or were given to me at a discount or for free. I was even able to get some signed kid’s books for Violet. At least, I didn’t have to worry about spending money on Drake for a gift this year because I definitely didn’t have it. Looking at my bank account made me want to drink even more.
“Lame,” Clay said, taking a big gulp straight from the bottle.
I swiped the bottle from his hands. “Like I’m sure whatever you got her is any better,” I said before taking a swig.
He smiled. “I made her a key to our new house.”
“That’s a cop-out gift.”
“You’re just jealous that you didn’t think of it. I wanted to make sure she knows that she’s welcome at any time,” he said.
I rolled my eyes, taking another sip from the bottle before handing it to him. “Cheesy as hell.”
“Yeah. Any cheesier than what you probably got Eddie?” he asked.
“I didn’t even get him anything, so ha!”
Clay raised an eyebrow and gulped down the rest of the bottle. “What if he got you something? Then you’ll feel like a first-rate asshole.”
“Did you get something for your little girlfriend at the ranch?” I asked.
“Don’t change the subject. You know I can’t stand Christy, and you know you’re going to go upstairs and probably put some music or something on a flash drive for Eddie and call it sentimental.”
I smiled and grabbed my laptop, opening it up. “I wasn’t going to, but I am now. Think Mom will stop by the store to pick up a flash drive before church?”
Clay laughed. “Yeah. I think we can get her to do that.”
***
Luckily, Clay convinced me to get something for Eddie since he sent me a text asking me to come by the ranch after church. Somehow, the bunco ladies convinced Mom, Violet, and Clay to go to the Conti’s house after service. The Conti family was more about Christmas Eve than Christmas Day. They opened their house up to everyone, with mountains of food even better than what they served in the restaurant.
The Jahids were also going to the Conti’s, so it left Eddie and me with an empty house. I’d wanted to be alone in Eddie’s house since the moment I knew I had feelings for him, and now my teenage dreams were finally coming true.
When I got back to my mom’s place after church, I put on an extra coat of lip-gloss before loading the playlist I’d made onto the flash drive we’d picked up at a convenience store on the way to church. I loaded it with the songs we grew up singing in the car—some old-school country songs and some cheesy romantic new school stuff that I hoped he didn’t hate.
Shoving the flash drive into one of the random gift bags Mom kept in the guest room closet, I then rushed out of the house and jumped into the car to make the short trek to Eddie’s.
He had opened the front door before I even knocked, letting out the warm air, the scent of something cinnamon, and the soft crooning of holiday music.
“Hey, you came!” Eddie said, swinging the door wider as I stepped inside.
“Yeah. Better than going to Conti’s and having that weird uncle ask me to sit on his lap then mumble things in Italian while staring at my ass when I refuse,” I said.
Eddie shut the door, giving me a wide smile. “I could probably find a Santa suit to put on, drink some eggnog, and give you that same effect if you really miss it.”
“I think I have a better idea.” I smiled, wrapping my arms around his neck.
Eddie smiled, closing the distance between us and wrapping his arm around my waist as he sealed my lips with his.
I’d dreamed about kissing Eddie for years, but having his soft lips on mine and tasting a hint of liquor on his tongue had my entire body on fire. His arms tightened around my waist as an involuntary gasp escaped from my lips. He smiled beneath the kiss, and his teeth grazed my bottom lip as he kissed me again and again. I wanted to get lost in this man forever. This man I’d grown up with; I’d thought about this moment for so long.
But just as quickly as the kiss started, he ended it, pressing his forehead to mine. “As much as I’d like to continue this, I think I should give you your Christmas gift first.”
“You got me a gift? You didn’t need to do that,” I said, trying to be nonchalant.
The smile broadened on his face as he stepped back and picked up his guitar from the side of the couch. “Come sit with me.”
He sat and patted the seat next to him on the leather sectional.
“Um, you’re giving me your guitar? Or maybe this is a prelude to a scented candle.”
He laughed. “Hey, girls like candles. I even have my own line at some frou-frou store. All named after my songs and all smell like cinnamon. I thought it was kind of weird, but my publicist thought if Luke Bryan could do it, then so could Eddie Justice.”
I rolled my eyes. “Who seriously gets their best friend a candle? I don’t think girl best friends even do that for each other.”
“Well, I was seeing that Ashley chick at the time, and she told me it was a good scent. She worked at that store, so I trusted her opinion,” he said, adjusting his guitar strap.
“You trusted the opinion of the girl you dated for three months who then broke up with you via an email?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I didn’t say her taste in breakup strategies was good, just in candles. And you’re one to talk. Remember when you dated that guy from Farmersville who said he could only commit when it wasn’t deer hunting season?” Eddie asked in a challenge.
I put my hand up. “Okay, so we’ve both had sucky taste in the people we’ve dated.”
Eddie strummed a few chords. “Yeah, and that’s what got me thinking. I sat down on the plane on the way to Nashville and thought of all the things that led me back to Friendship and to you.”
He hummed, strumming along to a few bars before he opened his mouth and he crooned out lyrics I’d never heard but had me tapping my fingers on my knee to the beat.
The song was about coming home, and realizing everything you missed and all the mistakes you made. Then the beat sped up, and he belted out words I felt like I’d been waiting for him to sing forever.
“But it doesn't matter now. That’s all in the past. Because I’m back home to you; I’m back home where I belong,” he crooned, closing his eyes and letting his words ring through the room.
I sucked in a deep breath and stared at this beautiful man. I was so lost in his words and so lost in him that I couldn’t even speak.
He might have said all of those songs were about me before, but actually listening to these words and feeling the music was completely different.
“What did you think?” Eddie asked, strumming the last few chords.
I racked my brain, trying to think of the right words, but all that came out was word vomit. “I’m thinking I should have gotten you something better than a flash drive of 90s music.”
He smiled, sliding his guitar strap off. “You could always write me a song. You’re the author and that one summer I taught you at least three chords.”
I smirked. “I’m sure my own rendition of ‘Hot Cross Buns’ would be spectacular.”
He scooted closer, putting the guitar strap across my shoulder then situating the guitar on my lap before pulling me close. He got up slowly only to sit back down again behind me with my back to his chest and his breath on my cheek.
“Do you remember where to put your hands?” His lips vibra
ted against my ear.
“Maybe,” I whispered.
He draped my right hand over the upper body, keeping my fingers perpendicular to the strings. On Eddie’s acoustic, he didn’t use a pick, just finger strummed it, so I tried plucking a chord.
“That’s a good start,” he murmured, his lips trailing from my ear to my neck.
I sucked in a breath, goose bumps dancing everywhere his lips hit my bare skin.
My fingers slipped on a few chords, causing a god-awful sound to come from the guitar.
Eddie laughed, his lips vibrating against my neck. “You have to concentrate, B.”
He put his hand on mine, moving my fingers along the chords.
His other hand went around my waist, his fingers splaying on my stomach.
“You gotta make sure you have good posture ... and good concentration ...” he murmured, his hand slowly sliding down as his pinkie skimmed the waistband of my pants.
“I don’t remember this part of guitar lessons,” I said, trying to think of something sexier or more coy, but that was all that came out.
“Then I guess I wasn’t doing it right before, and I’d better make up for that,” he whispered, his fingers sliding lower until the only thing between his rough hands and my flesh was my silk panties.
“I d-d-d-don’t remember that either.” I stuttered like a freaking fifteen-year-old girl. I’d been intimate plenty of times, but never with Eddie, though I’d thought about this moment so many times throughout my life.
He used my hand on the guitar and strummed a few notes that I recognized as an old George Strait song. With his other hand, he slowly pushed my panties to the side then used his digits to play the same notes inside me.
I gripped his knee with my free hand and bit my bottom lip. Fuck, I’d wanted his touch for so long, and now, his expert fingers were playing me better than he’d played any guitar.
I moaned softly, feeling myself crescendo.
His breath brushed across my neck as he increased the beat on the guitar and inside me. I cried out when he hit that glorious C note, and my body shuddered around his fingers.
