What Happens During the Holidays: A Holiday Anthology

by Lucy Gage

  In the situation I’m currently in, I don’t want to be alone, though that’s exactly what I should be.

  It’s the night before Christmas Eve.

  And this guy is walking in a snowstorm. It doesn’t take a genius to surmise it was probably his broken-down truck I almost hit.

  There isn’t anyone else around. Which is another reason I know I need to help.

  I pass him slowly and pull over to the side. If he’s a murderer, I’m no worse off, right? And if he’s not, and I help him, maybe it will buy me brownie points with the man upstairs. Because I need some good karma like a fish needs water.

  With a press of a button, I lower the passenger side window halfway as the man approaches.

  “Thanks for stopping,” he pants. “I haven’t seen a vehicle all night.”

  “No problem,” I utter. “Can I help you? Give your car a jump or something?”

  He smiles and the gesture lightens all his features. He appears to be in his late twenties or early thirties, clean-cut, and handsome even bundled in a thick coat. His nose is pink with cold, his eyes a pale blue. I’m sure I don’t know this guy, but something about him seems familiar.

  “Do you have a cell phone? I just need to call a tow.”

  Well crap.

  This is not info you usually want to give a stranger on an otherwise deserted road at night when you’re all alone. It’s also not a question I can really sidestep. I shrug apologetically. “No, I don’t, sorry.”

  He twists his lips as if he’s contemplating his options. “Could you give me a ride over to Carl’s? I wouldn’t even ask, but with this weather… I can pay you for the gas.”

  I know of Carl’s. I’ve passed it on my occasional trips into the city when the local library doesn’t carry a book I’m looking for. It’s the only grocery-store-slash-gas-station-slash-towing-company I’ve ever seen in my life.

  “Sure,” I agree. “Hop in.” I unlock the door and move my purse off the seat, wedging it in beside me. He fishes his wallet out of his back pocket and I wave him off. “It’s fine. Keep your money, it’s not that far.”

  He ignores me, setting a twenty-dollar bill on my dashboard. “Thank you so much. I’m Colton—Cole. And you are a lifesaver.”

  “I’m—” I cut myself off, unsure what title I should give him. My real name? My alias? Neither is safe to use. “Taylor,” I finish, using my mother’s maiden name.

  He unzips his coat and drops a shopping bag on the floor between his feet. “I had to drive into New York to pick that up for my son. My wife called every damn toy store around and found one,” he holds a single finger up for emphasis, “place that sells the kind of classic train cabooses Cruz wants for Christmas. It was the only thing he asked for. My kid is nuts about trains.” He smiles again, giving his head a little shake. “I was so excited, I took off without my charger and drained my battery using the navigation app. As luck would have it, it was the one time I really needed to make a call. Go figure. Thought I was going to get frostbite hoofing it. Really, I can’t thank you enough.”

  “I’m happy to help.”

  “It’s very kind of you.”

  I think my actions are more selfish than kind. Misery loves company, right? And even though I don’t know him, I feel a little less scared and a lot less lonely.

  “Are you heading home to spend Christmas with your family?” he asks when he realizes I’m not going to reply to his “very kind” comment.

  “No,” I murmur. “I don’t have any family.” Something else that shouldn’t be disclosed to a stranger. I swear, it’s like some masochistic piece of me is almost begging him to be a bad guy. Begging him to hurt me. It would be the part that so badly wants to join my parents and little brother.

  I can feel his gaze on the side of my face. “I’m sorry to hear that. The holidays are difficult alone.”

  A sad laugh huffs from my lips. Yes, they definitely are. Every day is difficult alone.

  We continue on in silence. I don’t know about him, but I prefer it that way. The roads are getting worse and I’m white-knuckling the wheel, hoping I don’t get us into a wreck. It’s also less likely I’ll offer him any further personal info if I don’t speak.

  As I make the turn onto the road leading to our destination, I know immediately Carl’s is closed. There are no lights on in the store and the large letters lining the roof are dark.

  I pull up to the store and shift into park, my wipers the only sound as we both read the sign on the door. CLOSED UNTIL DECEMBER 26, 8:00 AM.

  “Damn,” Cole murmurs. “Shit.” He rubs his forehead roughly. “Taylor, I hate to ask—”

  “I can take you home.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” I say, glancing in my mirror as I back out. “I don’t mind. I have nothing else to do.” Except flee town. “Where am I heading?”

  He gives me directions and we slip back into bated silence while I carefully maneuver through the storm. I love snow. It’s beautiful, especially this time of year, but not when you have to drive in it.

  Cole breathes through his teeth every time my tires glide over an extra slick spot. He offers to take over twice, both of which I decline. But he never complains even as it takes us over an hour to travel what should have only taken thirty or so minutes.

  We both breathe with relief when I pull into his drive, but I only make it halfway before my wheels come to a solid stop, getting stuck in the thick sheet coating the concrete.

  I throw the car into reverse, making sure I’m not stuck in the snow, and thankfully I’m not.

  “Thank you again. I’m sure you didn’t want to spend your night taking a strange man home, but I’m grateful you did.” He grins and I can’t help but return it. I like Cole. He seems like a nice guy who obviously loves his son so much he spent his day getting him a train caboose.

  It really is the small packages that are the best.

  “You’re welcome. I hope you and your family have a Merry Christmas.”

  “Where are you heading, Taylor? Do you live close by?”

  I drop my gaze and focus on the key chain dangling from the ignition. “I’m just passing through.”

  When I look back up, Cole’s brows are furrowed, his eyes set on my face. “You’re only passing through?”

  I shrug, then nod. “Yeah.”

  “Through New Haven or through Connecticut?”

  I’m not sure what the difference is, but from the way he’s watching me, waiting for my answer, I suspect my answer will mean something to him. “Uh, I’m passing through Connecticut?” I hope that’s the right answer. “I’ve always wanted to spend Christmas in New York.” So I guess that’s where I’ll go next.

  “You’re not going to make it to New York tonight. Not in this weather. Why don’t you stay with us for the night and head out in the morning?”

  “Oh…” My fingers curl into the hem of my shirt as I fiddle with a thread. “I can’t. I don’t want to intrude.”

  He opens the passenger door and motions as if I’m being ridiculous. “I invited you. You’re not intruding. My wife will be thrilled to have another female in the house. She’s usually stuck with three boys. I insist. It’s not safe to be out in this. Particularly when you don’t even have a cell phone. If you slide off the road or breakdown, what are you going to do? Just ride out the worst of the weather here. It’s my way of thanking you for your kindness tonight.”

  It’s not like I have many options. None that sound as nice. Or as safe. I’m scared, sad, cold, and absolutely exhausted.

  “Okay, if you’re sure you don’t mind.”

  “I’m positive,” he states. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to my family.”

  The warmth engulfs my body like an embrace the moment we walk in the door. I stay on the rug, careful not to slop slush on the floor.

  “Mara?” Cole calls as he stomps the snow from his boots.

  A woman prac
tically runs into the entryway, a phone held to her chest. “I just tried calling you. The news said the roads are getting bad and I was worried. I contemplated waking D up to go look for you.” Before he has a chance to reply, the woman—his wife, Mara, I assume—has her arms wrapped around his torso.

  That’s when she notices me.

  Her attention shifts from me and back to her husband, the question clear in her expression.

  “It’s terrible out there. My phone died and the truck broke down. Carl’s is closed until after Christmas.” His shoots a thumb in my direction. “Taylor was nice enough to give me a ride. Streets are so bad it took us nearly and hour and a half to get here from Carl’s. It was kind of scary. I told her we’d put her up for the night.”

  Mara smiles at me without missing a beat. “Of course we will. Thank you for getting him home.”

  “You’re welcome,” I utter.

  “Oh, and…” Cole adds, dropping his voice. “Is Cruz in bed?” At Mara’s confirmation, he tugs the bag from his coat where he stowed it before we left my car. “I got it.”

  She gives a little clap and snatches the sack from his hands and peeks inside, beaming at its contents. “He’s going to be freaking ecstatic when he opens this.”

  “I know,” he practically sings.

  “You did good, babe.”

  Cole smirks. “I know.”

  Mara turns back to me. “Can I get you anything? A drink? Have you had dinner?”

  “Actually,” I say, pulling my coat tighter to my body, “I’m really tired.” And I am, but I’m also feeling overwhelmed. I appreciate them putting me up for the night, and I’m so grateful to not be alone, but I need to decompress and figure out what I’m going to do tomorrow.

  “You need a bed,” she says, gesturing for me to follow. “I can do that. D’s asleep on the couch, so you can take his room. He won’t mind. It’s only his when he visits. The rest of the time it’s the office-slash-storage room.” She leads me through the doorway she came from before and I note the man stretched out on the sofa asleep, his arm thrown over his eyes, lips parted as he snores softly.

  “That’s D,” Mara whispers, “Colton’s younger brother and, according to Cruz—and D himself for that matter—the best uncle to ever live.”

  My eyes trail his toned arm, his jaw shadowed with stubble, his neck, pausing for a moment on the slight lump of his Adam’s apple before continuing down to his blue tee shirt, snug against his chest. When I get to the couple inches of bare stomach, peppered with dark hair leading to his jeans, I flick my gaze back to Mara. My face grows warm when she sends me a knowing smile.

  “He’s twenty-four, single, smart, has an engineering degree—fat lot of good that did him—and he’s right about being the best uncle to ever live.” She then winks and if this were just about any other day, and I was in any other situation, I think I’d be mortified. Or, you know, interested. At least a little curious for sure.

  “He’s from out of state, though, so you’ll have to snag him quick.”

  I laugh, glancing around the fully decorated room. The Christmas tree nearly touches the high ceiling, lit in softly glowing white lights. A fire roars in the hearth, holly and garland draping from the mantel. It all feels very…warm and homey and the hollow ache in my heart intensifies, but I do what I always do and push it down as we continue into the hall. “Do you always try to hook your brother-in-law up with random girls?”

  “Yes,” Mara states matter-of-fact. She shrugs unapologetically. “If I can get him sweet on a local girl then maybe he’ll finally move out here.”

  “Oh, I’m not really local.” Not anymore. “But that’s nice you want him close by.”

  “Yeah, I just want a trustworthy babysitter I can rely on.” Her shoulders lift again and she points to the doorway before continuing on. “Kitchen is through there. We have a million cookies. Please, feel free to eat as many as you want. The sooner they’re gone the better. Cruz is a little sugar sensitive and that boy doesn’t need anything making him more hyper.”

  She opens a door and flips on the light. “You’re here. Bathroom is straight across. You can toss D’s bag in the corner. We’re at the end of the hall. If you need anything, just knock.”

  The room isn’t large, but as the rest of the home, it’s cozy and the large bed looks like heaven. “Thank you. I appreciate you’re generosity. You’re both really nice to allow a stranger stay in your home.” I slide my coat off and lay it at the foot of the bed.

  Mara brushes a chunk of honey-colored hair away from her eyes and waves off my statement. “I’m not that nice. Trust me, I plan on sleeping with one ear open and my bedroom door bolted. My husband has probably taken down the make and model of your car and your license plate number by now as well. Knowing him, he undoubtedly did it before he ever got into your car, actually.”

  She laughs gently at my surprised expression.

  “Don’t be offended. We’d do this with anyone we brought into our home. It’s ingrained. Didn’t Cole mention he’s a cop?”

  Wait.

  What?

  No. No he definitely did not offer that info.

  I shake my head, unable to speak.

  “He and D both.” She turns to leave, but pauses, glancing at me over her shoulder. “I’ll be locked in my room, but if the irresistible urge to butcher strikes, don’t forget D’s defenseless on the couch.”

  I scrape my teeth over my lip, unsure if Mara has a twisted sense of humor, or if that was her way of reminding me there is a cop a few feet away in case I try to steal something.

  Or maybe both.

  I shut the door and release a long breath. Cops. That is just my luck. The sooner I’m out of here, the better.

  As I slump to the bed, what Mara said about Cole and my license plate replays in my mind. Is that why he questioned whether I was passing through the town or the state? I fall back into the pillows and groan quietly.

  I told him I was passing through the state of Connecticut and I have Connecticut tags on my car. He must have known I was lying. And he didn’t call me on it.

  Technically, it wasn’t exactly a lie. I am passing through. Now.

  I wonder why he let it slide when he knew I wasn’t being fully honest. And then invited me into his home.

  First thing in the morning, I am out of here. I can’t have Cole looking too deeply into my life. For his and his family’s sake.

  The sound of a doorknob clicking stirs me from my dreams. I survey my surroundings through squinted eyes as the night before comes flooding back.

  Oh, right. I’m in the house of a cop and his cop brother and very bad men are likely looking for me.

  Shit.

  I sit up quickly, causing my head to spin.

  “What the hell Mara, are you slipping chicks into my bed now?” A man’s gruff voice questions from the other side of the door. I immediately surmise this is coming from Cole’s brother D. “Not that I’m necessarily complaining about women in my bed, but don’t you think this has gone a bit too far? You’re my sister, not my pimp.”

  I can hear a mumbled female reply, but can’t make out the words.

  My original plan to sneak out at first light before anyone woke up is a bust. Awkward morning exchange it is instead, I guess. I slide off the bed and run my fingers under my eyes, attempting to wipe away any smeared mascara. The door swings open and I see D unobstructed, the sunlight kissing his face and lighting each and every feature his arm had covered up last night.

  And I know with certainty why Cole struck me as familiar.

  It’s the smile. I don’t know how it didn’t click before because the brothers have identical mouths that turn up in the same, easy manner. I give my head a shake. No, of course I couldn’t put it together. Who would?

  “Yes you did. She’s right here,” he says, voice loud in order to carry to wherever his sister-in-law is. “I’m looking right at her, Mara.” His gaze meets mine di
rectly. I’m frozen in place, shocked and scared and nervous and nostalgic and a million other emotions all at once.

  D…Dalton cocks his head to the side, his hazel eyes rake over my face before returning to my bewildered stare. I always loved his eyes. Something else he shares with his brother. The colors are different, but the shape is the same. As well as those impossibly long lashes that can make a girl jealous.

  I see it happen. I watch the recognition strike him head on, seconds after it’s hit me.

  He takes a slow, unsure step forward, his expression morphing into one of confusion. “Lonnie?”

  I scoop up my coat and try to slip past him. But Dalton isn’t having it. He blocks the doorway with his bulky body. He’s packed on some muscle since the last time I saw him. Quite a bit, really. It kills me not to touch him, to feel every new hard inch of his physique.

  “Lonnie James?”

  That snaps me out of my thoughts.

  God, I wish he’d stop saying my name. I haven’t been called that in so long. I squeeze my eyes shut and take a shaky breath. Every fiber of my being wants to throw my arms around his neck and breathe in the scent of his skin. I want to breathe in the memories of a different life. One where I was happy and had everything a girl could ever want.

  “My name is Taylor,” I rasp, pushing past him roughly with my need to get away.

  Everything around me blurs as I rush down the hall and through the living room.

  “Taylor?” Mara calls, confused.

  “Lonna,” Dalton yells.

  “What’s going on?” This comes from Cole. I see him stand up from the couch in my peripheral.

  Footsteps sound behind me.

  I ignore it all and tear the front door open, coming to an abrupt halt on the slush-covered porch. My car is completely buried. I can barely make out the frame. It’s a big pile of snow vaguely shaped like my car.

  A warm hand grasps my arm, and I think everything—my family’s deaths, the betrayal, the sadness, the loneliness, the years of running, the fear, the pain of seeing Dalton and knowing I can’t have him—it all catches up to me in this moment. I collapse, his grip slipping from my bicep as I fall to my knees, the tears I’ve bottled up all this time breaking free.