Young Revelations (Young Series)

by Kimble, W. R.

  “Well, good luck with that,” Marcus says sincerely. “I’ll get in touch on Monday unless something else comes up you need to know about.”

  I almost want to tell him to wait until Monday regardless of whether I need to know about something. “Yeah, thanks,” I mutter. “Talk to you then.”

  Without waiting for a response I end the call and slide my phone back into my pocket, trying not to feel as though this has put a damper on the evening. It really shouldn’t; it’s not as though she’s running around free. She’s just being transferred from one jailing facility to another. If I have my way, she won’t be leaving police custody anytime soon.

  I turn around and find Claire leaning against the doorjamb of her front door. “Eavesdropping isn’t nice, you know,” I grumble.

  “Wasn’t intentional,” she responds quietly. “Do I even want to know what that was about?”

  “No, you really don’t,” I tell her, gesturing that she should head inside. “At least not until I’ve had a chance to tell Samantha first.”

  “Finally learning,” she observes with a grin. “I’m so proud of you…”

  Rolling my eyes, I follow her into the house. “Where’s Sam?”

  “She wanted to buy a new outfit for tonight. Apparently everything she owns makes her look like a whale with her almost non-existent baby bump,” she says with an exasperation that tells me the two of them might have argued about this point several times today alone. “I don’t know why the hell she’s so determined to impress you; you’ve already knocked her up twice now. It’s not like we don’t know you’re attracted to her.”

  I grin as we go into the kitchen where Claire hands me a can of soda. “She’s nervous?” I ask.

  “I’ve never seen her like this,” my sister confirms. “I don’t know what happened with you two yesterday, but she’s acting like a teenager going out on her first date.”

  So I’m not the only one feeling like this. Somehow that makes me feel better and much more relaxed. I can calm her nerves with little to no effort and if I’m doing that, I won’t have time to be nervous myself. All I have to do is keep focused on my plans for the date and it doesn’t matter if the little details don’t go exactly the way I want them to go. I’ll be with the girl I love and that’s what’s important.

  Well, that and the little boy who spotted me from the backyard where he’s building a snowman with his cousins and Uncle Danny. He’s now rushing across the deck to the door and the moment he enters I waste no time scooping him up in my arms. It doesn’t seem to matter to him that I only saw him yesterday morning; he is beyond thrilled to see me now and my heart swells at that realization. I don’t think I’ll ever grow tired of the way he wraps his arms around my neck and plays with the collar of my shirt and talks a mile a minute about what he’s been up to lately. My sister is smiling fondly at us and offers to make hot chocolate before the rest of the hoard returns inside. Once we’ve gotten that, Tyler and I head into the living room where he is demanding that I play a videogame with him, which of course I’m more than happy to do. It’s not long before we’re joined by Danny and the kids and I give up my game controller to my nephew in favor of sitting back on the couch with Claire and Danny. A few minutes later, the front door opens and everyone looks over to find Samantha standing in the archway separating the living room from the front hall. And her eyes, wide with surprise, are trained on me.

  “Hi,” I say, grinning widely at her.

  “Hi,” she replies, a slow smile growing on her face. “I thought we weren’t going out until later?”

  I shrug. “We’re not,” I answer. “But I got antsy at home and wanted to come play with my son.” I can’t quite place the expression on her face, but she’s definitely not upset to see me sitting here. Claire scoots over a bit to give her room to sit. She looks questioningly at me. “We still have a few hours before we need to leave. Come sit.”

  Smiling, she places a couple bags from her shopping trip beside the staircase and comes to sit right beside me, her thighs touching mine. Grinning at her, I put an arm around her shoulders to pull her a little closer to me. To my everlasting relief, rather than pulling away or resisting, she simply rest her head on my shoulder. I could fall asleep like this. Having her beside me, relaxed and content… No words can properly explain how this feels. And to think I’d been so close to losing this, several times. Now that I’m seeing and thinking clearly again, I can, for the most part, see where I screwed up and I’m slowly starting to put things back the way they should be.

  Sometime later, Samantha reluctantly disengages herself from my side and mutters something about getting ready to go. I’d happily be willing to tell her she looks perfect right now with her sweatshirt and jeans, but experience reminds me this is the ritual of females—to get dressed up, do their hair and makeup, all with the goal to make jaws drop. And while I’ve told her hundreds of times over the years she doesn’t need to do all that to get my attention and make my jaw drop, the results really are worth seeing. Claire joins her upstairs after about half an hour or so, leaving Danny and me to keep an eye on the brood of children. The twins are still playing their videogame while Tyler and Abby seem to be having a tea party or something. It’s adorable and I cannot wait to see what sort of big brother my son will be.

  For me, when Clair was born, I was just glad to not be the baby of the family anymore. My older sisters, Elizabeth and Holly, had somehow been convinced I was born a girl and used me to practice their makeover talents. I’m sure my mom has a photo album full of me wearing makeup and dresses and whatever the hell else those two coerced me into wearing. And they were getting to the age that they didn’t really want their bratty little brother tagging along with them anymore, so the day Claire came home I decided I had a new friend to play with. Unlike my older sisters, I was more than happy to help my mom with the new baby—feeding her, getting her dressed, even changing her diapers. And when she got older, I helped her learn to walk and talk, and she turned out to be a great ally against our elder siblings. It took years for them to realize who was replacing their shampoo with honey, or filled their favorite shoes with super glue, or how I seemed to know everything they’d written in their diaries when they’d gone to such ridiculously great lengths to lock me out of their bedrooms. Looking at her now, a mother of three of her own children, I don’t think I could be more proud of her. She did what was right for her and her life, much like I did, and I couldn’t ask for a better baby sister.

  That’s what I want for Tyler and the new baby. Their age gap won’t be much bigger than my and Claire’s, and nothing would make me happier than to see them bond the way she and I have. Samantha doesn’t really have close relationships with her siblings. Jimmy has become more of a father figure since her father died, and her younger sister Lily is off doing her own thing—last I heard, she was in California hoping to become an actress or something. So I know she’s slightly jealous of the relationship Claire and I have, and the fact that she and Claire are such great friends is pretty damn cool too.

  When Claire finally makes her reappearance, she gives me a little smirk that tells me she knows something I don’t, and ushers the kids into the kitchen for dinner.

  “I hate it when she does that,” I mutter, shaking my head.

  Danny chuckles, pushing his glasses up his nose. “You and me both,” he tells me. “So are we expecting Samantha home tonight?”

  Raising my eyebrows in surprise, I look over at my brother-in-law. He’s smirking as well. I glance around the corner into the kitchen where Claire is busy dishing out dinner. “Not if I have my way,” I reply quietly, grinning. “I mean, I’m trying not to get my hopes up too much, because for all I know, this date will completely backfire on me…”

  “Well, I’ll say this much: Sam and Tyler have been here for—what, a couple weeks now? In that time, I don’t think I’ve seen a real, genuine smile on her face until Thanksgiving Day. And then, it was because you were here. You’re both looki
ng happier than you have in far too long. If that’s a sign of things to come for tonight, I will be shocked as hell to see her at the breakfast table tomorrow.”

  I snort a laugh. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I say to him.

  No announcement is made, but I know the exact moment when Samantha enters the room, because my brother-in-laws eyes bug out of his face and his mouth drops open slightly. “Holy shit,” he whispers.

  Slightly surprised that he’s actually swearing, then blaming my sister’s influence, I slowly turn around to find what he’s staring at and feel my heart actually skip a few beats at what I see. Samantha is rather shyly standing in the doorway with her long brown hair hanging down around her face. Her makeup is simple as always and she could be wearing none at all for how much it shows—but of course I’m going to notice every little change to her. Though before I thought it didn’t matter what she wears tonight as long as she’s with me, I think I’m going to enjoy her clothing choices. She’s wearing a fitted charcoal grey cable knit sweater dress that hugs her curves in a way that forces me to bite back a loud groan and accentuates her bump, with black tights and tall back riding boots. I smirk at the boots; as I’ve yet to tell her about the evening’s plans, I can only assume she and I are back on the same wavelength with our thoughts again.

  I slowly stand up, realizing I’ve probably been staring at her for around five minutes. She’s eyeing me nervously as though she’s wondering what I think about her choice of outfits. And considering how she keeps pulling on the sweater dress, she’s worried that her baby bump is showing so much it makes her look bad. To the contrary, she’s never looked more beautiful to me than she does right now. Biased? Absolutely. Do I really give a shit? Hell no.

  “You look amazing,” I tell her, smiling as I approach her, making a point to look her up and down so she knows I’m checking her out. “And I love the boots.”

  Smiling shyly and biting her lip, she seems very pleased at my compliment and I mentally pat myself on the back. “Thank you,” she says quietly. “I wasn’t sure what we were doing tonight, so hopefully this works.”

  “I think you’ll pass,” I reply, giving her a wink and grinning at her. “I would recommend grabbing your coat on the way out, though; it’s supposed to get pretty cold tonight.” Of course, I’ve already thought this through and have made the necessary arrangements, and if all else fails, I’m sure I can find some other way to keep her warm… It’s a tough job, but I think I’m up to the challenge.

  Her eyes are narrowed at me suspiciously, but I know her curiosity will soon get the best of her. Probably the best thing about coming up with surprises for Samantha is predicting how she’ll react. I always loved the moments leading up to the big revelation of a surprise, particularly when she knows one is coming. She sort of bounces slightly in place and her eyes sparkle as she tries to work out the possibilities of what I planned. And when she finally figures it out, she’s always genuinely surprised, like she never could have come up with it on her own. I’ve seen her eyes fill with happy tears; I’ve heard her squeal in delight; I’ve felt her throw herself at me in gratitude. None of it ever gets old and I can’t wait to see how she reacts tonight.

  Without exchanging a word, we head into the kitchen to say goodnight to everyone and so Samantha can tell Tyler to behave. The moment we enter, all eyes turn to us.

  “Damn, Samantha,” Claire says, looking up from where she’s cutting Gabe’s food for him. “You look good.”

  “Yeah, she does,” Danny mutters under his breath. Claire and I both glare at him and he flushes before turning his back to us.

  Samantha is giggling at the reaction; Claire rolls her eyes. Once we’ve both hugged and kissed Tyler, we leave the kitchen, snickering at Claire’s muttered threats about killing her husband. “You two have fun,” she calls after us. “Oh, and Matt, I expect her home by midnight. No exceptions.”

  I snort a laugh, rolling my eyes as I turn back to Samantha. “She acts like you’re going to turn into a pumpkin or something,” I say quietly, ushering her back into the front hallway.

  “I think I’m already turning into a pumpkin,” Samantha replies, glancing down at her belly.

  “I disagree,” I say simply, holding out my black leather jacket for her to wear. She raises an eyebrow at me, but allows me to slip it over her arms and onto her shoulders. I walk around to check the fit on her, nodding in satisfaction. Though she seems to think she’s put on so much weight, my jacket seems to fit her just as well as it always did—which is to say not well at all, since it’s about four sizes too big for her tiny frame. I do love it when she wears my clothes…

  “Aren’t you going to get cold?” Samantha asks as I open the door.

  I shrug. “I’ve got another coat in the car,” I say dismissively.

  ––––-o––––-

  Twenty minutes later, I’m starting to get an idea of what’s going on. Or at least where we might be headed. So far we’ve been chatting about the most inconsequential things—I pointed out a scratch on the hood of his black sports car and that got him talking about a hail storm last summer that forced him to stop his commute from work to home and duck into a little diner in the middle of nowhere until it cleared up enough that he could actually see the road. That turned into a discussion about the snow storm we just had and how I heard it’s being predicted to be a very long winter. Not that either of us minds the snow; I grew up expecting blizzards at least twice every season and he just loves the sight of falling snow. We discussed taking Tyler out sledding and maybe teaching him to ski—or rather Matthew would teach him; I’m useless on skis at best and at worst, I’m a liability to hurt myself and everyone around me. When Matthew starts chuckling about something, I know he’s thinking about the year he took me to Aspen and tried to teach me to ski. That ended with him breaking his ankle, because I’d somehow managed to lose control of the skis and when he tried to keep me from hitting a tree, he lost control of his own skis and went down hard. The rest of that vacation was spent in the cabin he’d rented us for the week sitting in front of the fire with hot chocolate. It was actually a great time.

  “Why does it seem like we’re heading to your house?” I ask, raising an accusatory eyebrow and trying to hold back my grin.

  He glances over at me and smirks, seeing right through any façade I might be trying to display. “Well,” he says, drawing out the word, “tonight is the annual Santa Clara lighting of the Christmas tree in the town square. I thought you might like to go with me.”

  A smile slowly grows across my face. This was a tradition for us, at least for the three years we had to build any sort of traditions. The lighting of the tree was always a big spectacle in town and everybody made an appearance. There was food and drinks and music and shopping and just general happiness. At first I had been reluctant to join in on the festivities—for one, I was still relatively new to town and didn’t really know anybody; and for another, Christmas hadn’t been one of my favorite holidays. Matthew had known this and had promised the moment I got overwhelmed for whatever reason, he’d take me home and we wouldn’t have to go back. I’d loved it, though; everybody was so excited to see a tree and nobody excluded me from the festivities. I might have been new to town, but I was immediately part of their family.

  “I think that’s perfect,” I tell Matthew, reaching over for his hand.

  He gives me a smile reserved only for me—the one that makes him look like the computer geek he is at heart who still can’t believe a girl would look twice at him, let alone agree to a date with him. I love that smile. “Glad to hear it,” he says softly, bringing my hand up to his lips.

  When we arrive in town, most of the population is already out doing last minute preparations or just mingling. Matthew walks around the car to open my door and we walk hand-in-hand towards the festivities. Every so often we stop and talk to somebody, but no matter who approaches us to say hello, he doesn’t release me from his grasp. Some part of him i
s always touching me—his fingers, his shoulder, his arm around my midsection, the occasional press of his lips to my temple. It all feels so normal and so right that I momentarily forget our current situation. I don’t know if he’s figured out my decision about the state of our relationship, but he’s certainly acting like we’re together again. In some ways, I suppose we are. We’ve spent the last three days together in some capacity and I’m starting to feel normal.

  “Would you like to do some shopping?” he asks as we walk through the main street of the town. His arm is slung over my shoulder while mine is around his waist and I don’t think I’ll ever tire of walking like this with him. It’s such natural behavior for both of us, something we both know we can’t find with anybody else.

  “Did you have something in mind?” I ask in response, looking up at him.

  He shrugs. “I was thinking that since Tyler is getting a puppy it might be a good idea to get some of the accessories now.”

  I smile at him. “That’s a long way from rejecting the puppy on principle,” I tell him. “Does this mean you’re warming up to Mark?”

  He scoffs. “Not a chance,” he responds, grinning. “Dr. Dipshit would still be smart to keep his distance, but if a puppy makes my son happy, who am I to object?”

  Shooting him a look at his nickname for Mark—which only makes him chuckle—I allow him to lead me into the town pet store where, several years ago, he and I chose fish for his new aquarium. Matthew immediately begins choosing puppy accessories—everything from food and water dishes to collars and leashes. I’d forgotten how happy he is when he has reason to spoil somebody. I can try and tell him until I’m blue in the face that a puppy doesn’t need a new collar for every day of the week, or as many toys as our son, but I know he’s not going to listen. By the time we leave, he’s spent a couple hundred dollars and looks mighty proud of himself.