by Alyson Hale
“Ah, it was inevitable. Nobody lasts forever, I’m afraid.” Cyril chuckles. The sound is tight, and I know he’s trying to conceal his true emotions. Cyril has been strong for us all our lives, but he’s never fooled me. I know how sensitive he can be on the inside, because truth be told, I’m just like him. “Anyway, since I no longer have a band or really anything to do, I’m coming to stay with your brother for a while. I just wanted you to hear it from me and know that I’m as interested in seeing you as I am him. It will be great to hang out together like old times. I’m joining you lot for Christmas, if that’s all right.”
“I’m sure it is,” I reply. Damien and Cyril haven’t been directly invited, but Ms. Calloway did tell Jace he could bring the band, and as far as I’m concerned, Cyril is just as much a member of the band as anyone else. Without him to care for us after both our parents died, Damien and I would probably have grown up in some orphanage and ended up God knows where. “I look forward to seeing you too, Cyril.”
“You’d better, after all I’ve done for you,” my uncle teases. We laugh together. Taking care of two rowdy boys on tour who were not his own must have been an uphill task. I can’t imagine trying to wrestle two little boys on the road. Cyril will always have my loyalty for that.
We discuss travel plans for a few minutes, and then he hangs up. I smile at the phone afterwards.
That crazy old coot. If anyone can straighten out the mess our band is in, it’s him. I’m glad to have a distraction from everything that’s been eating my mind over the past few weeks. Christmas can’t get here soon enough.
Chapter 3
Elyza
I thrust the last bobby pin into place and douse my copper red hair with hairspray. It’s Christmas night, and I’m finally about to get undeniable confirmation of my sister’s new life change. My first clue is that Kyri doesn’t seem to live here anymore. Her room still looks the same, but she’s spent nearly every night away from us since I got here. Much like hers, my room still has all my childhood decor, except for the Filthy Bangers poster that once hung proudly above my white headboard. I took that down in case any of them come back here, although I doubt they will. No one’s coming here to see Kyri’s baby sister, and I refuse to throw myself at any of them. They’re the reason I had to grow up without a father. However irrational and immature that may be, I stand by that. It’s the only thing that’s going to keep me from getting on all fours for them, especially Eddie, and panting like a thirsty dog.
I straighten my long ivory sweater over top of my red Christmas leggings and slide on my Uggs. Looking in the mirror at my lackluster appearance, I sigh. I wish I had nicer clothes to meet a rock band in. We’ve never been super well off. Mom and Kyri have been working their asses off all these years just to make ends meet. I’ve been wearing the same clothes since I was in high school. This outfit combined with my small breasts and the scattering of freckles on my face make me look no older than fourteen.
As usual, I resort to using my time-honed makeup skills to make me look my age. I reach into my makeup bag and dab some concealer over the dark circles under my eyes. I’m still recovering from the stress of final exams. I haven’t been able to sleep from worrying about this one anatomy class in which the exam was worth half my grade. If I’m going to be a nurse, I have to be able to pass anatomy. If I don’t, I can’t be a nurse, and then I’ll really have no idea who I am.
After applying as much mascara, eyeliner and eyeshadow I can without looking like a drag queen, I slide some sparkly, raspberry-flavored lip balm on my lips. Then I contour and highlight the hell out of my face, decide this is the best it’s gonna get, and slink out of the room, feeling all of two feet tall.
I walk into the dilapidated mess of cabinets and linoleum we call a kitchen and draw in a beautiful breath of honey ham. Chunky mashed potatoes, green beans, biscuits, pies and other trimmings litter the counters. My mouth waters as I reach for a piping hot, golden brown, buttery biscuit. Kyri comes out of absolutely nowhere and slaps my hand.
I shake the sting out of my skin. “Ouch! What was that for?”
Kyri’s brows pull down to shadow her eyes. My older sister, who looks like a plumper, darker-haired version of me, has been cooking for hours. Handling food without being able to eat it always gets her pissy. “No eating until everyone else is here. You know the rules.”
“But...just one biscuit…” My hand moves of its own accord toward the tantalizing baked goods.
Her hand grabs my wrist in a vise grip. She growls in a deep, foreboding tone, “Little girl, don’t make me slap you again.”
Groaning, I move to the bar over the sink and sit on one of the high stools. Every time I come back to this house, I revert back to being a whiny little child. Mom and Kyri haven’t let me help with cooking for holidays ever since I ruined the cranberry sauce one Thanksgiving. I made it way too watery and it wouldn’t thicken, no matter what I did. They said if I couldn’t even handle cranberry sauce, they couldn’t trust me in their kitchen.
I don’t mind not being able to cook. It’s never been one of my favorite pastimes. But when you have nothing to do while you’re waiting on a scrumptious meal to be served, and your stomach is roaring at you like a starving lion, it’s almost impossible not to complain about how hungry you are.
The side door opens. Kyri’s best friend Alex and her mom walk in. Alex, a tall, curvy girl with creamy brown skin and curly black hair is carrying a bag full of packages for us. I attack her in a bear hug before she can fully enter the door.
“Alex!”
“Little sis!” Alex squeezes me within an inch of my life. Her chin hits my earlobe. “Girl, have you gotten taller?”
I scoff, pulling back from the embrace. “I wish. I’ll never be as tall as you and Kyri.”
“Aw, poor little petite girl.” Tonya, a taller, older version of Alex with chin-length hair, pats me on the head patronizingly. Scowling at her, I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear and cross my arms.
“It’s not fair. You all have the curves and the height. I’m just the short chick with a boy’s chest and a flat butt.”
“You’ve still got time, sweetie.” My mom materializes behind me and wraps her arms around me. She kisses my cheek. I try to resist a smile, but when she starts tickling my side I dissolve into giggles.
“So what’s for dinner?” Alex teases. It’s always the same thing. She knows this. Alex and Kyri giggle with each other and go into the living room to deposit Alex’s gifts under the tree. Mom and Tonya strike up a conversation, and I stand awkwardly to the side: the misfit, the fifth wheel, as usual. At least when Kyri’s fiancé gets here, I’ll probably have Alex to talk to, although she’ll likely be flirting with the other guys in the band. Am I going to have to compete with her for their attention? That’s not going to go well. Alex is something of a man-whisperer. All she has to do is look at a guy, any guy, and he’s hard for her. It has to be her curves that go on for miles.
In all my twenty years, I’ve never felt this inadequate. Maybe it’s best if I just lay low and play the sister role.
Headlights flash onto the driveway outside. “That must be Jace!” Kyri exclaims with excitement.
My stomach turns into a carousel ride. He’s really here, which means the rest of the band is too. The prospect is scarier than I thought it would be.
Mom lets everyone in through the front door. My first impression of Jace is a handsome blur as he drags Kyri straight under the mistletoe and goes to town on her lips. I feel stomach acid crawl up my throat. I love my sister, and I’m happy for her, but I don’t want to watch some guy slobber all over her, even if he is the frontman of a band.
I clear my throat, and Jace suddenly remembers his manners. He tucks Kyri under his arm and holds out his hand. I shake it, giving him a mischievous smirk. I’m not gonna deny his amber eyes and the wall of tattoos on his arms give me butterflies. This guy is even hotter in person. I’m officially starstruck.
“Forgiv
e me, that was so rude.” Jace’s deep, booming voice is enhanced by his British accent. My chest burns with jealousy. How in the hell did my sister ever get this lucky? “I’m Jace. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Elyza.”
“Likewise,” I giggle. “Now, please, head into the living room and resume your bliss.”
Jace grins down at Kyri. “I like her,” he says. My chest swells with pride. I didn’t wreck my first meeting with the super-hot, super-famous future brother-in-law. Kyri owes me big.
Another tall, muscular man appears behind Jace. I like his curly brown hair and kind, deep eyes. I recognize him as the drummer, Connor Stone. “I’m Connor. Nice to meet you, Elyza.”
“Likewise.” I shake his hand. So far, so good. These guys are nicer and more polite than I expected them to be. Maybe it’s because they’re British, or maybe they’re just trying to get on our good side because of Kyri. Either way, my excitement is growing. What could be more fun than hanging out with a band on Christmas?
Another man appears behind Connor, and it’s as if the world stops revolving around us. I pause and take him in, piece by piece, breath by breath.
The way his dark brown hair falls over his forehead. His dull gray eyes, which once shone with a bright light, and now that light has burnt out. His eyebrow piercing. His mouth...his delicious-looking, sinfully plump lips...
I won’t say it out loud, or even allude to it, but it feels like my life has changed forever in a nanosecond.
Chapter 4
Eddie
I always knew angels were traditionally involved in Christmas celebrations, but I never expected to come face-to-face with one. She looks fucking glorious. She smells divine. And I can’t help but imagine that holding her in my arms would be enough to send me to the seventh heaven.
Her light red hair is gathered in a halo-like shape on the top of her head. When she meets my gaze, I stop and take in her stunning hazel eyes. The irises are rimmed with amber with a ring of gold in the middle and nearly imperceptible streaks of green growing out from her pupils. They’re big, bright and piercing. It’s as if she’s looking directly into my soul. My eyes travel down her long, slim nose to her cheekbones, which are rosy and round like a couple of ripe apples. A smile teases her small, plump lips.
I suddenly realize I haven’t spoken. I hold out my hand, unprepared for the tidal wave that sweeps over me at the touch of her soft, smooth fingers. My calloused hands haven’t held anything this delicate and wonderful in years. I’ve touched plenty of women in my life, but I’ve never met one and felt like I would shatter into a million pieces if I let her go.
“Eddie Turner,” I say. My voice is a bit hoarse, probably from straining with all my might against the urge to take her in my arms and taste her sweetness for myself. This is my best friend’s fiancée’s little sister. I’m here to be polite and pleasant, not a pervert.
“Elyza Calloway,” she replies. If I’m not mistaken, there’s a touch of hoarseness in her voice as well. I’ve been with enough women to know when someone is turned on by me. Her mouth looks drier than usual. She unconsciously pushes her chest out. I detect a slight hint of her pebbled nipples through her tight sweater.
Fuck me. This little girl has no idea what she’s asking for. I stand at least a good foot taller than her. She’s so tiny, and if her mouth looks this fuckable, I can only imagine how snug and wet her pussy is. Underneath that sweater, she’s only wearing a pair of leggings. All I can think about right now is ripping a hole in that sinfully thin fabric and squeezing my girth into her tight channel, pumping in and out, watching her dark, plush lashes shadow her stunning eyes as she moans out my name...
Damien’s truck pulls into the driveway, ripping me out of my wicked thoughts. I chastise myself inwardly. This girl can’t be much older than eighteen. She’s far too young to fuck up her life by being with a man like me. This zap of chemistry between us needs to be neutralized, and quick.
Damien and Cyril enter together, looking equally apprehensive and unenthused. It takes some coaxing, but I manage to convince Ms. Calloway to let Damien and Cyril join us. She does not seem too impressed by Damien, which doesn’t surprise me. No girl’s mother ever is. But for me, she’ll put up with anything. I’ve been here a few times with Jace, and I was able to work my magic on her. He owes a lot of her approval of him to me. Having no mother of my own, I like to think of Mrs. C. as a stand-in. She treats me like a son even though she has no reason to. It’s one of the reasons I’ve fallen in love with this family.
Maybe even literally…
I shake the insane thought out of my head. I’ll never fall in love again. Having a strong attraction is not the same thing as falling in love. Not by a longshot. That’s a dangerous mistake to make.
The rising din of conversation interrupts my thoughts. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Elyza standing off to the side in the hallway, looking down at her phone. Everyone else seems to have someone to talk to, except Damien and Alex, who seem to be in the midst of an intense staring contest with each other. No one else may notice it, but I see the insecurity in Elyza’s eyes. She’s the odd one out. I’ve been there, and no one should have to feel like that on Christmas.
I shouldn’t go anywhere near little Elyza, but there’s a driving need inside of me to have as little distance between us as possible.
I move to stand close to her. Elyza smiles in my direction and puts her phone away. She doesn’t have to say anything for me to know she’s grateful for the company. Maybe even more than grateful.
“So what’s your story?” I ask her, hoping it’s benign enough a question. What I really want to ask her is how long she can hold her breath, or if she really tastes as sweet as she smells.
“Boring.” Her eyes dance with mirth. “You don’t want to hear my story. It hasn’t even gotten to the end of Act I yet.”
“Well, I should hope not. You’re far too young for that,” I quip.
She drops her gaze and her cheeks turn a bright rosy pink. “Yeah, I know. I’m just a baby. To you and to everyone else.”
“I never said you were a baby,” I tell her. “I said you’re young. There’s nothing wrong with being young. Trust me, there’s nothing special about being old.”
Elyza looks up at me, neither masking her interest nor being too forward with it. “You don’t seem that old to me.”
This girl is an open book. I can tell exactly what she’s thinking, and I want to scream at her not to think it.
You shouldn’t want me, Elyza. I’m broken. If you dig too deep, you won’t like what you find.
“Anyway, your story is far more interesting than mine,” Elyza says. “You’re the bassist for the Filthy Bangers. What’s that like?”
I try not to smile, but the sparkle in her eyes is contagious. “Kicking arse twenty-four-seven, three-hundred-and-sixty-five days a year. Specifically, various people kicking my arse. You would think I’d have control over my own life, but in reality most of my life is mapped out and scheduled for me.”
When she cringes, it brings an awkward grin out of her. It’s adorable.
Goddamnit.
“I feel that. I’m in college. I chose my major, and they give you ‘elective’ courses, but for the most part, I’m stuck following a prescribed path someone laid out for me.”
I smirk. “Funny how that works out, eh?”
“Yeah.” Her laughter sounds like the melody to my harmony.
Ms. Calloway calls us into the kitchen to serve ourselves dinner. Elyza and I are the first ones who reach the kitchen. We pile our plates high with food, and she looks up at me as she moves into the den to sit on the couch. I respond to her unspoken invitation and sit beside her. She smiles in appreciation.
No one I’ve ever met before has been able to speak so many words with a mere glance. I wonder if she looks at everyone this way, or if it’s all for me.
Chapter 5
Elyza
My heart pounds with nervous excitement. Edwin Theodore T
urner of the Filthy Bangers is hanging out with me and talking to me as if I’m important. More than that, he’s talking to me as if we’re two normal people and I’m just as important as he is. The way he’s looking at me...it’s almost as if I’m the most important person on the planet.
I know that’s not true. He probably has a contact list full of girls he can summon at any moment for his attention. But in this moment, his attention is fixated on me, and I want to drink up every second of it. I want to know the man behind those deep gray eyes and see if the light is still in there, just waiting to be turned on.
A blush creeps up my neck when I realize I want him to be turned on in more than one way.
Get a grip, Elyza, I tell myself. Remember, these guys are the enemy. They’ll only break your heart. You have to keep yourself at a safe distance.
“So what are you studying at university?” Eddie asks me as he dig into the stack of ham slices on his plate.
“University.” I love that he called it that, and I love the way it sounds in his posh British accent. It’s hard to stop myself from fangirling.
“Nursing,” I reply. “I think I might want to be a head nurse or a doctor, but I’m not sure yet.”
Eddie smiles. “A noble profession. My mother was a nurse.”
“Really?” I clear my throat, suddenly feeling awkward. “She’s not alive anymore though, is she?”
A darkness passes over his handsome face. He shakes his head. “She and my father passed away when their fishing boat sprang a leak. They had forgotten their life jackets, and my mother couldn’t swim.”
I feel a pang in my heart. “That’s so sad. I’m sorry.”
