New Year's Eve: a Novella

by Samantha Young

  I nodded in agreement. Even if I wasn’t a forty-year-old woman trapped in a twenty-four-year-old’s body, I wasn’t the type to have fun over a kegger. Give me an excellent book or a movie or a quiet bar somewhere over a college party any day of the week.

  “I heard you broke up with Nicole.” Ugh. Why? Why was that one of the first things out of my mouth?

  Joe flicked me an indecipherable look before taking a sip of his beer. Then, “Yeah. It didn’t work out.”

  I wanted to ask why but he was giving off very definite, ‘I don’t want to talk about this’ vibes.

  “How are the contracts going for the building in Las Vegas?” I asked instead, referring to the building he wanted to buy to convert into a new garage. It would be his first garage outside of California.

  His broad shoulders instantly relaxed at the subject change, and he gestured to his patio lounge chairs near the house where we could chat away from the noise of the music and revelers. When we sat down on the outdoor sofa, I did my best to keep some distance between us. Joe talked about the business for a bit and then reciprocated with, “How’s it going with that idiot at the smoothie company?”

  I was stupidly pleased that he remembered my latest job and the VP who had driven me nuts. As a freelance sustainability expert, companies who couldn’t afford to have a full-time employee responsible for sustainability research, hired me to develop new workflows that increased productivity while lowering their carbon footprint. I went in, assessed how their company currently ran, supplied a sustainability evaluation and then advised them about recycling and waste reductions, etc. I loved my job. But sometimes, certain employees within a company wanted me to offer miracle suggestions that allowed them to make as few changes as possible. It just didn’t work that way. The vice president of a California smoothie company I’d recently worked for didn’t understand the need for me to be there. Despite my credentials, including a degree in Environmental Science and Business, he’d treated me as if I was an airhead doing a useless, flaky job.

  “Oh, I finished up there two weeks ago. I’m on a new account, working for a national footwear company. The excitement of landing that makes up for the asshole of a VP who treated me like dirt the entire three months I was there and then added insult to injury by having the audacity to ask me out when I was leaving.”

  Joe raised an eyebrow. “This guy sounds clueless.”

  “Oh, and does not like rejection,” I replied. “Bitter little man. When I turned him down, he called me a frigid bitch.”

  To my surprise, Joe’s face darkened with anger and his voice was rough as he bit out, “He what?”

  I blinked at the dangerous bite to his tone. “It’s cool, Joe. I don’t have to see him again.”

  He took a deep pull of his beer, but I could see his grip on the bottle was tight with residual annoyance.

  “It was just a name. I’ve been treated to worse. Sexual harassment isn’t a new thing.”

  Wrong thing to say.

  He cut me a dark look. “You think it’s okay to just put up with that shit?”

  I reached out to squeeze his arm in reassurance, pretending not to delight in how hard the muscle was beneath my fingers. “No, of course not. And I don’t. Joe, I’m good.” I retreated after his gaze flickered down to where I was touching him. “You know I can handle myself.”

  “Doesn’t mean you should have to. This is the problem with being freelance.” He turned toward me and I could feel a familiar lecture coming on. “You don’t have the protection of a company behind you when you have to deal with these kinds of guys.”

  I sighed. “A company might not do anything about it. In fact, they might tell me to suck it up and deal with it. Whereas, I can say, ‘Hey, I don’t put up with bullshit misogynism or sexual harassment. Find another sustainability advisor. M’kay.” I grinned, tossing my hair playfully.

  His eyes flickered to the movement and then back to me. His tension eased a little. “Anyone does anything to you that crosses the line, I want to know.”

  A part of me thrilled at his protectiveness.

  The other part of me feared it.

  It wasn’t wise to rely on someone to feel safe, loved and protected. If they went away, by choice or not by choice, they suddenly left you without that sense of home.

  And Joe was off limits.

  There was no way I could let myself rely on him. I’d only end up hurt.

  “I can take care of myself,” I reiterated, but gave him a small smile so I didn’t sound harsh.

  “And what I’m saying is that you don’t need to take care of yourself all the time. You have a family.”

  Ugh. That was a bucket of cold water if ever I needed one.

  Joe was family.

  Looking away, I took a sip of beer and decided it wasn’t strong enough after all. “You know, I think I’ll take that whiskey now.”

  * * *

  And that was my last vivid memory from the party.

  I got drunk.

  I got drunk, and I remembered moving closer to Joe on that couch as we chatted the evening away. But the memories after were vague. Blurry.

  Except for the memory of me kissing him.

  Joe had gone into the house for something.

  I followed.

  I kissed him.

  I couldn’t remember much about the kiss at all, only that it was probably short because I remembered Joe gently removing me from his person and handing me off to Shaw to sober me up. Thankfully, she didn’t know about the kiss.

  That kiss. Selfish. Irresponsible. And stupid.

  Joe was my brother-in-law’s father.

  He was sixteen years older than me.

  And I was not his type.

  I was independent; I was strong; I was focused.

  I didn’t need anyone to look after me or protect me, and everyone who knew Joe knew that’s what he got off on.

  I also wasn’t a petite, dark-haired beauty.

  That was fine.

  I liked who I was, even if I wasn’t for Joe.

  Rejection stung, though.

  And I didn’t want to face Joe for the first time after the week I’d had.

  I was not in the headspace for that.

  So it was good he wouldn’t be at Lake Tahoe.

  I could lick my literal and metaphorical wounds while I spent my favorite time of year with my favorite person in a beautiful place far, far away from the scene of the crime.

  And maybe I’d even get some sleep.

  Bliss!

  Chapter 2

  JOE

  * * *

  I knew that stubborn glint in my son’s eyes.

  I was pretty sure he’d gotten that glint from me.

  Wiping the sweat off my face with a nearby towel, I stepped back from the punching bag that hung from the ceiling in my office and waited for my son to say whatever it was he’d come down here to say.

  The whir of engines and buzzing of tools could be heard in the distance, dulling to a muffle as Dex closed my office door.

  I kept my primary office in the first garage I’d opened near the college. It was five minutes from the house I’d raised Dex near the McKinley Park area. Five minutes from California State and five minutes from an apartment that belonged to the greatest temptation that had ever been put in front of me.

  Hell.

  I knew why Dex was here.

  “You’re spending New Year’s Eve with us at Lake Tahoe,” my son said.

  Yeah.

  Knew that was why he was here.

  After taking a swig of water to collect myself, I sat on the edge of my desk and lied, “I can’t. Got that meeting.”

  I hated lying to my kid.

  It was Ryan Baillie’s fault.

  She’d put me in this shitty position.

  Well… it wasn’t all her fault.

  My dick wasn’t entirely blameless.

  “Dad, I know you’re lying.”

  I narrowed my eyes on my kid. He migh
t be right, but I didn’t like being questioned by him. Or anyone. Especially when I felt guilty as hell.

  Dex raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest.

  While my son had gotten his coloring from his mother, all blond-haired and blue-eyed, resisting the dominance of my darker gene coloring, he had my build and features. He looked like a young, blond version of me. Except my kid also got his mom’s open, optimistic nature. It didn’t bother me he lacked my aggressive drive. He had his own ambitions. Wanted to be an environmental lawyer, and I was proud of how hard he was working to do that.

  Even if he scared the shit out of me by getting married to Ryan’s little sister Shaw.

  I still wasn’t one hundred percent sure a college romance could survive, but a year in and those two were still as annoyingly loved up as ever.

  My kid was happy with Shaw.

  That’s what mattered.

  Currently, he was not happy with me.

  Dex enjoyed having his family around him. And he’d been stubborn about us sticking to his alternating holiday routine for as long as I could remember. His mom got him for Christmas and New Year holidays and Easter one year while I got him for Thanksgiving and Halloween. Then we alternated the following year. He’d never grown out of it. If it was my year with him, nothing was to get in the way.

  This year was my year with him.

  But something—no, someone — had most definitely gotten in the way.

  Christmas dinner at my place had been awkward as fuck, and Ryan leaving early like that had only made it worse.

  “I know about Ryan,” Dex blurted out.

  I tensed, feeling a knot form in my gut.

  My son took a step toward me, his expression somewhat sympathetic. “Dad, you may be my father, but you’re a guy. I’m a guy. I get it. A hot, drunk twenty-four-year-old throws herself at you and you forget yourself. You forget who she is.”

  I frowned. “You saw the kiss?”

  Dex snorted. “I saw the make-out session.”

  “I—”

  “It’s cool, Dad. I saw you pushing her off and taking her to the kitchen for a glass of water. Then you handed her off to Shaw to sober her up.” Dex huffed. “It’s not ideal that you’ve had your tongue in my wife’s sister’s mouth, but it happened. It’s over. And we all have to get along for the rest of our lives. You and Ryan need to get over the awkwardness because we can’t have another Christmas like that again. It really upset Shaw that Ryan took off.”

  Get over the awkwardness?

  It was hard to do that when I couldn’t stop thinking about Ry.

  Dex had no idea the incredible amounts of willpower it took to remove Ryan Baillie from my mouth.

  “You’ve been avoiding her. Shaw is getting suspicious, but she thinks it’s something to do with us. That you’re fed up of us living rent-free. That you really don’t approve of our marriage.”

  Shit. “You know that’s not true.”

  “I know. But I can’t tell her what is true. Ryan raised Shaw. Shaw worships the ground her big sister walks on. As for you, Shaw thinks the world of you. She thinks you’re the absolute shit. And guess what? She wants the absolute shit for her sister. I tell her you two kissed and she’ll start planning the wedding.”

  Shock moved through me and something ridiculous that felt a bit like hope. “Shaw would want that?”

  Dex scowled. “Yeah, because she’s a dreamer and a romantic and thinks her sister can move heaven and earth. I know better. Dad, I’ve watched you go through woman after woman after woman and know you’re not the settling down type. You would not only screw up Ryan, who doesn’t deserve it, but you could screw up my marriage to Shaw if you fuck over Ryan. Never mind the sixteen year age gap and how that might not look so hot in twenty-years’ time.”

  Indignation ripped through me, but only because he was saying the things I’d had to remind myself of over and over and over for the past two years. “I’m not screwing around with Ryan.”

  “I know, I know. You just need to ignore whatever stupid crush she’s got on you. Okay? Off limits.” He reiterated, making me feel like a rebellious teenager. “The point is New Year. Shaw sees right through this bullshit about a business meeting over the holidays. I don’t want to spend New Year’s Eve with a bunch of people I don’t really care about. I want to see in the New Year with my dad and I want my wife to stop worrying that my dad disapproves of us.”

  The old guilt manipulation. I scowled at him. “Fine. I’ll be there.”

  “It’s your friend’s cabin, so I’m sorry if Ryan being there is uncomfortable for you,” Dex added regretfully. “But she’s got nowhere else to go.”

  An ache sharp and tender flared across my chest. The thought of Ryan not having somewhere to go disturbed and upset me more than I liked. Ryan had walls up a mile high. She didn’t want to rely on anyone. She wanted to take care of Shaw and not the other way around. It was like she was afraid to let anyone take care of her. For some fucked up reason, it just made me want to be there for her more. “She should be with her family. Shaw is her family. I wouldn’t want anything else for her.”

  Dex narrowed his eyes with uncharacteristic suspicion, looking so much like me.

  “What?” I shifted uncomfortably.

  “Nothing.” Dex shrugged. “So we’re confirmed? You’re coming?”

  “Tell Shaw I got out of the meeting,” I replied.

  My son snorted. “Right. Shaw, Ryan, and I are driving up together. We’d offer to drive you, but I don’t think we’ll all fit into one truck with all of our shit…”

  Like I wanted to be trapped in a confined space with Ryan for two hours. “I’m taking my truck. In fact,” I thought about how I hadn’t had a moment’s peace in months. “I might head up there a day early.”

  “You should. You work too much.” Dex clapped me on the shoulder and grinned. “See you there.”

  “Yeah, see you in—there.” I’d almost said, ‘see you in hell,’.

  Because that’s what it would be.

  Trapped in a cabin at Lake Tahoe with a woman I wanted but couldn’t have.

  Yeah, New Year’s Eve in hell.

  Chapter 3

  RYAN

  * * *

  Driving in snow was not one of my favorite things. Thankfully, I’d been lucky to get a rental last minute. The SUV handled the snow-dusted roads, leading me to the lake much better than my small Honda could. Still, I was tense as I sat forward in my seat, eyes glued to the dark road, peering through the falling snow, as I drove up through the hills on the winding road of the Eldorado Freeway. The snow was thicker here than it had been on the highway, and I slowed to begin my descent as I hit Emerald Bay Road.

  Sweat had gathered under my arms with the tension.

  But I was almost there. According to my GPS, this road would lead me down to Lake Tahoe where Joe’s friend had a large cabin right on the lake.

  When I’d agreed to spend New Year’s Eve as a third wheel with my sister and her husband, I thought we’d all be driving up together. But Shaw had called yesterday morning to tell me she and Dex wanted to have a night alone, so they were driving up early. I’d told her I would be happy to leave them to their romantic cabin and spend New Year’s at home, but Shaw got really upset at the idea, so I gave in.

  And now I was driving at a crawl as I made my way through the snow. Exhaustion pulled at me. I was actually grateful for the tension that kept me awake.

  The things we do for family.

  To my great relief, I finally reached the lake. I only knew this because of GPS. I couldn’t see anything in the dark beyond my headlights. The light caught on the signs outside each entrance on my right that told me which cabin I could find at the end of the woodland-surrounded roads.

  My headlights hit a snow dusted sign that declared it was no. 6, and I slowed, turning down the road. As I approached, the driveway opened up to reveal a medium-sized cabin with a truck sitting outside it. I narrowed my eyes as my he
adlights lit up the vehicle.

  That was Joe’s truck.

  My heart rate kicked up for a few seconds as I pulled up beside it.

  Then I remembered that Dex had the same truck as his father.

  Calming down, I turned the rearview mirror toward me and double checked my cheek and eye. Thankfully, the swelling had gone down completely, but there was still bruising. Hopefully, my make-up covered it because no amount of make-up seemed to cover up the dark circles under my eyes.

  I hadn’t slept since Christmas Eve.

  I didn’t even know how I was functioning.

  Just like that, now that I’d reached my destination, an overwhelming wave of weariness crashed over me.

  As much as I’d come here for Shaw, I’d also come hoping being away from my apartment and being with people would allow my body to relax.

  That’d I’d sleep.

  A sudden knock on the driver’s side window scared the crap out of me.

  “Shit!” I yelled, turning to glare at the knocker as my heart pounded.

  Light spilled down from the cabin, casting shadows over the face peering in at me.

  Oh crap.

  Joe.

  I stared, shocked and confused.

  Then he opened my door, resting his arm along it and his other on top of the car. His expression was grim as his deep voice rumbled through me. “Looks like there’s been a communication problem.”

  I was going to kill Shaw.

  Following Joe up the porch stairs and into the cabin, I vowed to metaphorically kill my sister. Yet I couldn’t even find the energy to be all that angry with her. My ankles felt like they had twenty pounds of rock tied around them, and I was grateful Joe had taken my luggage off me to carry it inside. I didn’t think my fingers could grip onto anything.

  In fact, as soon as the heat from the log burning fire inside hit me, something happened.