Dylan elbowed Trey, shushing him.
Matt ignored his comment and continued, “We decided a few years ago that we didn’t need to get a bunch of stuff from each other to celebrate the holiday. Karlie had the idea to use the money we’d spend on gifts and give it to a charity instead. Each year, a different one of us chooses the charity, and we each put in an anonymous contribution.
“I love that idea,” I said, turning to Trey. “Not lame at all.”
Trey rolled his eyes as he took a bite of a sugar cookie.
I tilted my head, “But, why make it anonymous?”
Matt shrugged as he spooned some taco dip onto his plate. “We just don’t want anyone to feel obligated for the simple fact that we don’t always know where we’ll each be financially. Some of us may have more to donate than others, and nobody should feel like they’re inadequate because they couldn’t put in as much cash as someone else. There may be a year where one of us is able to put in a lot, and the next year, that same person may only be able to donate a little bit. It all depends on the economy, our jobs, and where our finances are at the time.”
My jaw dropped slightly. “I think I just fell in love with your family.”
“I hear you,” Karlie chimed in, smiling. “They’re an easy bunch to love.”
As the conversations continued, I took in the humble surroundings. Matt’s family clearly didn’t have a ton of money. It tugged at my heart to know that what they did have, they gave to those who needed it more.
Matt’s eyes caught mine. He smiled and leaned in to whisper, “We haven’t told our parents this, but we still each get Adalyn a gift. She’s just a little kid. Presents are exciting to her. She deserves to be spoiled.”
The thought of that warmed my heart. “I didn’t even realize you brought a present here with you tonight.”
His lips formed into a sly smile, “Lego mini figures. They’re small enough to fit into my coat pocket. I gave them to her when she followed me upstairs earlier.”
“That’s mighty slick of you, flying under the radar like that,” I joked.
I was thoroughly impressed. Coming here tonight had not only made me feel like I actually belonged somewhere other than my couch on Christmas, but it also showed me a side of Matt that I had no idea even existed. One that forced down my guard even more than I already had, and it made me want to let him see a different side of me.
“So,” I added, “whose turn is it to pick the charity this year?”
Matt nodded toward Trey, “It’s Butthead’s turn. Tell her your charity, punk.”
“Only if you say butthead again, dude,” Trey replied, pointing to me. “’Cause you know how chicks dig guys who say butthead.” He turned to me, and in a much kinder tone said, “Boys and Girls Clubs of America.”
Matt looked at me while he responded to Trey’s comment. “Good thing I’m not trying to impress anyone.” His focus directed back to Trey, clarifying, “She’s just a friend.”
Even though I had asked him to say it and asked him to be it, I felt a tightening pain in my chest when he said the words just a friend. Everything about being here tonight felt perfect. It felt right. Until he said those words.
I could tell Matt was uncomfortable, probably because of his promise for keeping things platonic tonight. I needed to re-direct the conversation. “I wish you would’ve told me about the donation box, Matt. I didn’t bring any cash with me. I feel terrible.”
Matt put his plate down on the table and took his wallet out of his back pocket. “I haven’t put mine in yet. I’ll cover both of us.”
“Yeah,” Trey rolled his eyes, “because you’d do that for all your friends, right, buddy?”
“Shut up, Dipshit,” Dylan ruffled Trey’s hair. “You’re making things awkward.” Then he turned to me, “Don’t mind him. He just broke up with his girl. He sees love everywhere he looks—even when it’s not even there.”
Matt looked at me with an expression of apology. I shook my head and gave him a reassuring smile to let him know that nothing Trey said had bothered me. He seemed to catch my signal and began looking through his wallet.
As he took a few bills out, a small white card slipped out and fell to the floor. Trey noticed it and picked it up off the floor, glancing at it as he handed it back to Matt. Just before it reached Matt’s hand, Trey jerked it away and raised it in front of his own face like he had just recognized something on it.
“Dalton Davis?” he asked with more excitement in his expression than I had seen in him all evening. He flipped the card over to read the back of it and raised his brows. “How the hell do you have Dalton Davis’ personal cell number?”
Matt looked to be at a loss for words so I chimed in, “Matt helped out with security when the American Muscle crew was in town a few nights ago. Although,” I turned to Matt, “I didn’t know the stars of the show were handing out their personal cell numbers to the security team.”
I smiled, expecting Matt to explain how he had gotten a hold of the TV star’s phone number. He didn’t. Instead, he placed the card back in his wallet and put the bills into the donation box. Trey and Dylan began to talk about the last episode of the last season of American Muscle, with Karlie chiming in about the news of the announcement of Marc’s new show that she had heard on a local news channel.
Everything remained seemingly normal. But the energy in the room had just completely changed. Tension had made its way into the air between Matt and me for the first time since we arrived. He looked…unsettled. Distressed.
I lowered my voice so that only he could hear me, and asked, “Are you okay?”
He gave me a fake smile, “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s nothing.”
“Are you sure?” I pressed. “What is it? Maybe I can help.”
“It’s nothing,” he said, growing frustrated. His sudden change in mood made me uneasy. “Let’s just get through this night. We’ll talk about it later, okay?”
I tried to cover up the shock that instantly hit me. I forced a nod, while my heart and mind began to race. I had heard words similar to those before in the form of, let’s just get through this dinner. No good resulted from words like that. Bad things happen when they are spoken.
This was not "nothing."
The voices around the dining room began to muffle together as my mind flashed back to the night of my eighteenth birthday dinner and the months that followed. The months that changed me into someone I never expected to become.
Someone numb.
Someone disconnected.
Someone who used people.
Someone I found myself now wanting to break free from.
I had changed in the last few years into someone who would never fit into a loving family like this one—but tonight I was actually starting to feel like maybe I could belong after all.
What the hell was I doing here? Why was I allowing these people into my heart? Why was I believing in the stupid illusion that Matt could actually care about me?
I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears. I began to sweat. My throat became drier than it’d ever been. So dry that it hurt to breathe.
A cough forced its way out of me. Then another. And another. Suddenly, I was coughing uncontrollably. Matt, looked at me, concerned. Then Karlie’s attention landed on me. Soon, Rebecca walked in from the kitchen and everyone turned to watch me.
I couldn’t stop, and the coughing was getting worse by the second. My body was physically rejecting his words.
Let’s just get through this night.
“Are you okay, Chloe?” I vaguely heard Rebecca ask.
I nodded and forced a smile while my face burned up and eyes began to water. My hand covered my mouth while I continued to cough so hard that I could hardly catch my breath. She went to the kitchen sink and began to fill a glass with tap water. Matt followed her, took the glass as soon as it was ready, and hurriedly brought it to me.
“Drink, Chloe,” Matt held it out.
I’m not sure why it pissed me off that he said
that, but it did. Maybe it was because I didn’t need him to rescue me.
Or maybe it was because I wanted him to.
I took the glass and tried my best to calmly excuse myself to the bathroom before I made even more of a scene with my involuntary hacking. I already felt like enough of an idiot.
Once I made it there and closed the door behind me, I gulped the water down like I hadn’t drank a drop in weeks. It helped a little, but the tickle was still in my throat. A few more muffled coughs escaped while I refilled my glass with the tap water from the bathroom faucet. After drinking the second glass, I felt a little better, but it took another few minutes before the coughing ceased. If I spoke, I was sure it would start up again, so I decided to spend the next few minutes waiting for it to calm down a bit more before facing anyone.
I cringed when I looked in the mirror. My face was still red. Eyes bloodshot and exhausted. Tears had forced their way out, causing mascara to smudge my eyes. Wisps of hair that had fallen out of my ponytail had stuck to the sweat on my forehead and cheeks. I ripped off some toilet paper from the roll and began to dab the sweat and tears from my face when a knock sounded at the door.
“Chloe,” Matt said softly, “are you okay?”
“Yep,” I replied just before I coughed, yet again. Dammit. Didn’t he know I couldn’t talk right now?
He didn’t knock again or say anything else, and when I finally came out a few minutes later, he was gone. I walked down the hall and returned to the dining area, where the rest of his family began to clap and cheer at my entrance.
“She made it out alive!” Keith compassionately smiled.
Rebecca stood beside me and squeezed my shoulder. “Glad you’re okay, sweetheart.”
I smiled a thank you, endeared by yet another effort on their part to make me feel at home. But on the inside, the only thing I felt was grief from the thought that after tonight, I wouldn’t get to experience their amity ever again.
My eyes searched the room for Matt, but I didn’t see him anywhere.
“Matt’s outside smoking,” Dylan informed me.
“When did that start back up again?” Karlie asked me, as if I had the answer. “I thought he quit.”
“I have no idea,” I replied. The truth was that I didn’t know much about Matt at all.
My coughing fit had sobered me up, not that I was drunk from alcohol. Just buzzed from the feeling of being part of something again. Part of a family.
I made my way to the living room and stepped over Adalyn who was laying stomach down on the carpeting, propped up by her elbows, coloring a picture in her Frozen coloring book. Grandpa Jack still slept mouth-open on the couch. “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” played on the stereo, and A Christmas Story was still on TV with the sound muted, but it had started over from the beginning.
I took a seat on the couch and watched the TV as Ralfie, the boy in the movie, looked through the toy store window and saw the Red Rider Range Model Air Rifle for the very first time. Suddenly, I wished I had stayed on my own couch today instead of coming here. I wished I were at home, in my pajamas, drinking my whiskey cider alone, escaping into a movie just like this one. Being alone was safe. And comfortable. If I had followed my instincts, I would never have come here to meet this benevolent family. In turn, I would’ve never had to let them go.
“Don’t give up on my grandson yet,” a deep, rusty, voice said.
What the hell? Was that Grandpa Jack?
I directed my attention to the old man next to me only to find that his head still rested on the backrest of the couch, mouth still hanging open. Did I just dream that? Then, without opening his eyes or making any other movement, his lips moved, the voice coming from it matching that which I had just heard. “That boy doesn’t make the same mistake twice.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, but he didn’t answer. “Mister…” Shit, I didn’t know his last name. Was it even the same as Matt’s? “Um…Jack. What mistake?”
Before I could get an answer, the jingle-bells hanging on the front door jangled as Matt opened it to come in from outside. He stomped his feet on the welcome mat and stepped in the house, brushing off the big, fluffy snowflakes that covered his coat.
Our eyes met. He didn’t smile and neither did I. Even though the tension remained in the air, neither one of us wanted to look away.
“It’s snowing pretty bad out there,” he said.
I nodded, “I see that.”
“We should probably go before the roads get too rough.”
My heart sank. This was it. Time for goodbye. “Okay.”
Chapter Six
~Matt~
Present (Christmas Night)
I’ve been an ass. Ever since that damn business card fell out of my wallet, reminding me of the choice I had to make, I’ve been cold and distant. Even now, while Chloe sat next to me in the passenger seat of my truck with the heat cranked, amidst the falling flakes of snow that lit up like goddamn fireflies in the headlights outside, we drove in silence.
I wasn’t being a jerk on purpose. I just didn’t know what the hell to say or do.
I’ve had a few days to think about Dalton’s offer. Working on the finest classic cars in the nation—with Dalton Davis—in his legendary shop—would be a dream come true. Accepting the offer was practically a no-brainer. Anyone in my shoes, who had the same passion for classic muscle cars that I had, would jump at the chance.
I never expected an opportunity like this would come in second-place to a girl.
Only after Dalton left the shop that day did I recognize the extent of the infatuation I felt toward the enigma of Chloe McCarthy. Only then did I realize that I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her. Of not getting to spend time with her. I wouldn’t be able to touch her anymore. Or feel her lips on mine. If I walked away now, I would no longer get to experience the sense of triumph I feel from making her smile when she needs it most.
Leaving town now may very well fuck up any chance of those things ever happening again. And I loved those things. If I were to move away, the unique connection that had manifested between us would shred apart before it ever had a chance thrive.
Seeing how well she got along with my family tonight only made this dilemma more difficult.
The timing of it all sucked major ass.
Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Chloe and I shared something exceptional. That I knew as a fact. What I didn’t know was whether or not she was ready to admit that fact to herself—or to me.
Not to mention the world of hurt she had brought to my best friend. There was that to consider too.
Call me an asshole, but the truth is that just because you have feelings for someone…doesn’t mean it’s going to work. Even if you want it to, more than you want your left nut. What happened with Maya was a prime example of that. As much as I wanted to give up this career opportunity to see where things would lead with Chloe, I had to be realistic.
The timing was all wrong.
She may not be ready for it.
I may not be ready for it.
On the other hand, saying no to Dalton would put unnecessary pressure on both of us to not only define what was happening between us but to force it to work. That kind of pressure could very well crush our chances before we even had a chance to truly try.
I needed more input. If I learned anything from my past with my ex, I’ve learned to know exactly where I stand before making a decision that could affect not only me but also my relationships with the people I cared about most. I’d talk to my family about it later. Right now, I had to know two things from Chloe before making any decisions:
1. Would she admit that she’s got it just as bad for me as I’ve got it for her?
2. Was she ready to make things right with Logan?
Because honestly, that whole hoopla between the two of them was a serious red flag, and it would be the dick move of a lifetime to give up an opportunity like this or get serious with a girl who had hurt my friend. I j
ust couldn’t shake the thought that there was more to that whole fiasco. Maybe it was wishful thinking but something pulled at me to give her the benefit of the doubt, and I couldn’t help but think she wanted to make it right. From what she had shown me of herself, she wasn’t anything like the girl most people took her to be.
I pulled my truck into a visitor’s space in her apartment building’s parking lot and shifted it into “park.” I turned in my seat to face her and noticed her hand on the door handle, ready to bolt. She stared straight ahead, intently focused on the brick wall of her building.
I opened my mouth to say something. To apologize for giving her the silent treatment. To tell her there was something she needed to know. To ask her what really happened with Logan. To ask her how she felt about us.
Before anything came out, she took her grip off the handle and fisted my coat instead, pulling me into a kiss so passionate, I barely remembered who I was, not to mention what I wanted to say. Then, just as quickly as it started, she pushed me away and looked at me like I had aggravated the shit out of her.
I pressed my lips together to keep my grin from showing. Now would be a totally inappropriate time to smile. It would surely piss her off even more than she already seemed to be. But I’ll be damned if I didn’t love her spontaneity.
Her gaze shifted to my mouth, and her eyes squinted in irritation.
Shit. She saw the smirk.
She inhaled a deep, theatrical breath and released it in a long sigh. When her eyes met mine, my smile vanished because the only thing I saw behind her stare was sadness, and I hated myself because I knew my behavior tonight was the cause of it.
“My instincts are telling me to walk away from you, Matt, and never look back. I know, deep down, that is what I should do because I know exactly where this is headed,” she pointed back and forth between us. “I can’t even begin to tell you how badly I want to jump out of this truck right now. But I can’t seem to do that, and do you know why?”
I tilted my head, blindsided by her unexpected honesty. “Why?”
I desperately wanted her to say that it was because she had the same kind of feelings for me that I had for her. I wanted her to say that it was because she was ready to see where things would lead with us.
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