“For the entire season, I used my mattress to help block out the cold. During that time, my sister and I, we slept on a heap of my mom’s old clothes in the closet. It’s a wonder that no one discovered the conditions we were being raised in.”
A shiver rocked through him. “Of course, my dad warned that if I ever told anyone about what our home life was like, they’d tear me and Chantelle apart and put us in different homes. He knew that was my one weak spot. I swear to you, I lived to protect her.”
Easton pulled his gaze off the fire in time to see Ivy smear tears off her cheeks. She exhaled a breath through pursed lips, seeming to fight back further tears. He almost hated planting such an image in her head. Of course, she lived in the same world he did; she had to know childhoods like his existed. But she likely hadn’t known someone who’d experienced such a life firsthand. Even that was encouraging, if he were honest.
“You told me that you have a hard time believing in love,” Ivy said with a sniff.
She remembered that, did she? “Sadly, yes.”
“But your sister doesn’t share that outlook.”
He shook his head. “No, but that’s a good thing. If she was the way I am, she wouldn’t have Tim, and she wouldn’t be expecting a baby who’s probably going to be one of the coolest humans ever born.” Easton smiled. He might not have met his nephew yet, but already the little guy owned a big piece of his heart.
“Do you think that you’re the reason she sees things in a different light?” Ivy asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Her experience. You might have been raised by the same people in the same house, but her experience was different from yours, because she had you looking out for her.”
Whoa. That was insightful. Impactful too.
A burst of warmth bloomed in his chest. Easton hadn’t thought of it that way before. No. People were designed differently right from the start. And Chantelle, she’d always been more optimistic and carefree.
But what if he’d been the reason for that?
As hesitant as he was to take any credit, Ivy’s observation had a ring of truth. A truth that was burrowing deeper into his heart even still.
“I like that idea,” he admitted under his breath. Now his eyes were welling with tears. He blinked them back quickly and cleared his throat. “I was shooting for keeping her alive.” He laughed. “And distracting her enough that she didn’t know how bad things really were.”
“You must have done a good job at it.”
“Thank you.” For a reason he couldn’t explain, Easton felt lighter suddenly. As if a giant burden had been lifted right off his shoulders. A burden he hadn’t even known was there.
“So your sister wants you to find someone,” Ivy said. “Is this—enrolling you in the Looking For Love show—her first attempt to get you dating?”
If only. Easton shook his head. “Not even close. She’s set me up on dates, created profiles for me on dating sites, the works.”
Ivy grinned. “I bet she’s pretty awesome.”
“Oh, she is. You two would get along, I think.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. She, like you, puts at least some faith in the whole TV dating scene. She loves that kind of stuff.”
Ivy chuckled. “Hmm. I like her already.” She lifted a hand to her forehead as she spoke, then lightly traced her fingers over the bandage.
Easton leaned in to inspect the dressing. “Is it bothering you?” He hoped it wasn’t getting infected.
“Kind of. It just started throbbing out of nowhere,” she said.
“Maybe our conversation was giving you a headache,” he joked.
Ivy gave him a playful slap. “It’s not. But it is tugging at my heartstrings a little.”
And she was tugging at his. “How about I take a look at that wound?”
At his request, Ivy scooted in closer, reminding him of the way she’d done that very thing the night before. While asking him to kiss her, that is. The mere recollection made his mouth water. It almost made him regret not breaking out the peaches.
Of course, if anything were to happen between them, which was something he was feeling a lot more open to, Easton wouldn’t want the moment to be stemmed by an artificial high or a loss of inhibition.
“Let me grab the kit,” he said, standing to make his way over to the cabinet. He hurried back to her and, with careful, glove-covered hands, pried the corner of the tape from her hairline. He caught hints of that sweet vanilla scent as he pulled in a shallow breath, inspecting the wound carefully. The gash had clotted nicely, and was already sealing shut. “No sign of infection,” he told her. “But the dressing needs to be changed out.”
He quickly prepared a few strips of tape, sensing Ivy’s gaze on him all the while.
He tried very hard not to get distracted as he cleaned the area, applied ointment, and prepared a new mesh bandage, but he couldn’t help but hear her musings from the night before—she’d been wondering what it would be like to kiss him.
Were similar thoughts running through her mind tonight, or had that simply been the moonshine talking?
Ivy had hummed off and on as he attended to her, yet only as Easton applied the final piece of medical tape did he recognize the song.
“You singing Christmas carols for me?” he asked, realizing that she was likely used to hearing carols this time of year. “Are you the type that listens to Christmas music on your own, or just at the mall and parties?”
She seemed to consider that. “I used to listen to it on my own.”
“But not anymore?” Easton asked in a whisper. He took longer than necessary to press gently at the corners of the tape, a sudden urge coming over him—the urge to press a kiss to her covered wound. Before he could reconsider, Easton was already leaning closer.
“I’ve been…busy.” Her reply came out even quieter than his.
He cupped the sides of her face, a great sense of tenderness coming over him.
Ivy’s eyes drifted shut. Tentatively then, she lifted her hands and wrapped them around his wrists encouragingly, her silky fingers warm against his skin.
Softly then, Easton pressed a gentle kiss over the bandage.
“Merry Christmas, Ivy,” he said under his breath. He pulled back the slightest bit as he realized something—a drastic shift in the energy between them.
Gone was the playful tone that dwelled during stories of her past. Gone was the darkness that lingered as he revisited his. Here, in the space surrounding them now, was a pure and powerful chemistry that made his pulse rev, his breath hitch, and his lower belly heat up with anticipation.
Ivy lifted her chin, confirming, with the heavy set of her lids, that she felt it too. She licked her lips, leaving firelight to reflect along the pretty upper peaks and the full curve of her perfect pout.
The physical sensations spiked up a notch as he considered tasting those lips once and for all. Pulse spiking. Heart pounding. Reservations gone. He lowered his head and traced, ever so gently, the shape of her mouth with his bottom lip, testing, savoring. If he was going through with this, allowing himself to give in to the magnetic pull of passion, he wouldn’t hold back.
With that, Easton parted his lips ever so slightly and moved in to kiss her at last. He sampled the soft surface of her mouth once, then twice before coming in for a long, lingering kiss. The belly heat roared hotter still as he tilted his head and came in for more of the same. More of her.