BARRON
I’ve had five Christmases with Camdyn. I’ve had three with Sev. I had four with Tara, and now, one with Kacy. In all that time, all those mornings when you’re supposed to be thankful for those around you, this one means the most.
Amongst wrapping paper and giggles, I stare at the vintage spellbook that Kacy had engraved with Sev’s name on it. “You didn’t have to do that. It must have cost a fortune.”
Kacy beams with pride, wearing Christmas pajamas she bought to match the girls’. “It’s worth it to see the look on her face.”
Leaning forward, I press my lips to her temple. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for letting me stay. This was the first Christmas where I’ve seen snow and a real family together.”
I smile, but inside, it’s sad to think she had been so unhappy before this. And I can imagine Tara had a lot to do with it.
As the girls continue to open their gifts, Kacy scoots closer to me.
“Do you think those will fit her?” she asks, gesturing to the Ariat boots she got for Camdyn. She put them on as soon as she opened them and hasn’t taken them off since. I doubt she will, even if they are two sizes too big.
“They’ll fit her soon. Their feet grow like crazy.” Reaching behind me, I pull out the necklace I asked Tilly to pick up for me in Austin last week. Granted, this was before I knew about her connection with Tara, but still, I don’t regret it. Sighing, I hand it to her and then reach for my coffee without words.
She stares at the box in her hand. “What’s this?”
“I had Aunt Tilly pick it up for you when she was in Austin.” I bring the cup to my lips, trying to keep my smile hidden. “That was before I knew how much you liked egg nog. Or I would have gotten you a bottle.”
She makes a gagging sound, and Sev turns to look at her, a black princess crown haphazardly balancing on her head and a custom spell wand pointed at us.
“What are you doing with that wand?” I ask her, curious why she looks like she’s trying to burn a hole in my head with her stare.
“Makes me a brother,” she growls in her monster voice.
I glare back. A brother? She wants a brother? What the fuck? First a mom, now a brother. “It doesn’t work that way, little girl.”
Kacy gasps beside me, having opened the box. “I love it!” She hands it to me. “Can you put it on me?”
With her neckline in view, I’m thinking about putting something else on her. I fasten the spring ring clasp on the necklace for her. It’s a vintage chain with a camphor glass drop that says: Not all souls that wander are lost.
She touches her fingers to the camphor glass. “It’s so beautiful.” Jumping up, she reaches under the tree for a small box and pushes it toward me. “I got you this.”
I look down at the box in my hand. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”
Kacy shrugs. “I know, but I did.”
Carefully I peel back the meticulously wrapped paper to find a titanium flask with the engraving of: I drink because I have kids. Don’t ask questions.
I smile. “It’s perfect.”
By the look on her face, I wonder if she’s ever given anyone a gift before. One she picked out. Not one her mother chose for her.
As I stare at the flask in my hand, I’m reminded that I don’t want to let her go. She could stay, right? But then what happens when she decides this town is too small for her? What happens when I’m working eighty-hour weeks and she feels neglected?
Easier said than done.
KACY
The day after Christmas, I stare up at the ceiling in Barron’s room, praying to get lost and never surface in anything other than the feeling of his hands gripping my hips. But as we lay here this morning, I realize my expiration date has come.
I roll over and look at Barron. He’s staring at the ceiling, his breathing light and steady, thoughts held hostage like his words.
I run my hand through his hair and force him to look at me. “Are you okay?”
He nods but doesn’t say anything.
My eyes drift to his chest and the light dusting of hair. Curling into his side, I worm myself into his embrace. “I should get going soon.”
He lifts his arm and wraps it around me, his lips pressing to my temple. “I never said you had to leave.”
“I know… but I think I need to. Give you some space. I think I need to experience some time alone.” I turn my head and prop myself up on my elbow. “I’ve never been alone. I’ve lived on my own and been single, but I’ve never experienced an open road with no obligations. I’ve never… known me.”
He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his eyes tender. “Then you should do that. For you.”
My heart pounds in my chest. Am I making the right decision? I remember, briefly, the mornings we spent skin-to-skin in this very room, laughing, living for moments and memories that only we knew as he moved above me with reverent curses and parted lips. The way he would gaze down at me with a heated expression, the feel of my fingertips meeting his hard muscles, begging him not to stop, and knowing he held every string of my heart, even though it was all temporary.
His gaze returns to me, but he says nothing, at least not with words. My face is suddenly between his palms, so close to his own. His fingers are electric on my skin, the sensations calming yet terrifying. His lips barely touch my own as he presses his weight to mine
He buries his face in my neck, and then he presses his mouth to mine, hard. He’s kissing me desperately, filling my mouth with everything we aren’t saying to one another. I let this be our goodbye. I do that because this is easier than words.
When he drops his forehead to mine, our kiss breaks, and he keeps his eyes closed, sliding inside me. Barron exhales in the next second, releasing a moan into my mouth. Pulling out, he thrusts back inside of me again, this time harder. He lifts his head and looks down at me, and I see it. Love. It’s clear as day, a man busting at the seams, ready to tell the girl beneath him he loves her, but the words are held hostage.
He won’t let them out, and I know why. It finally makes sense. If he asks me to stay, the situation is like him and Tara. He’s afraid if he asks, and I do, I’ll resent him.
I wouldn’t, not ever, but that’s not something you can easily tell a man who’s been burned before.
I wrap my hands around the back of his head and bring his mouth to mine. Arching my back, I widen my legs and allow him to slide inside me deeper, needing this just as bad as he does. He moans into my mouth, fucking me harder.
Placing his palms flat on the mattress, he creates distance, staring down at me.
“Harder,” I beg, needing this to be just that. I don’t want to see the love in his eyes because it will only hurt more to leave.
He pushes harder. And that’s how we fall apart. Together. It’s not pretty, but falling never is. It always leaves you bloody and bruised.
When he’s motionless above me, I wrap my arms around him, savoring the seconds when our bodies are sedated, and words aren’t needed. If I had my journal nearby, I’d write:
I’m not ready for the end