He turns around without waiting for me to respond and I feel chided. I just got told what to do by a crime boss in a Santa hat. I blink back the irritation bristling between my shoulders, coughing out a disinterested grunt before turning on my feet.
I move out of the room without delay, needing to rest my eardrums from the bleeding lyrics of some tool singing about jingling bells. A hand grasped along the banister, I pause at the first step, eyes falling on the front door. Without second-guessing myself, I move toward it. Not because Dominic told me to, I assure myself; but because I wanna see the Rein’s very own angry elf stringing lights.
Much to my disappointment, she’s not struggling. She’s also not excelling. Her ass is planted along the curb, eyes closed, head tipped back to let the wind whip along her face.
“Most people avoid the wind.”
I struggle to sit, the curb low enough to make my side scream in protest as I maneuver down beside her.
She startles at my voice. “I’m not most people.”
I don’t argue.
She’s been avoiding me for days. Ever since I witnessed a vulnerable moment she’d offer a limb to have kept hidden. She makes Dominic bring me my meds and when she has no choice but to check my wound, she refuses to speak or look me in the eye.
I’m not offended. Fuck, I’m grateful. Her cold-shoulder is the greatest gift this prison has to offer.
I half expect her to stand once I’ve settled, run off to avoid having to converse with me.
“I wish it snowed more in December,” she speaks instead. “Seattle has the shittiest weather across the country, yet, we rarely get a white freaking Christmas.”
“Tragic,” I gripe sarcastically. “Thought you were hanging lights.”
She raises a dark brow. “We have this agreement, Dad and I. He tells me to hang the lights, which is a way to let me escape Codi and her elf-steroided-self. I sit here on the curb, doing nothing and then he does the lights himself.”
I pick up a stone, skipping it across the road, watching it bounce over the asphalt. “Not a fan of Christmas?”
She watches me candidly for a beat. Quiet seconds of retrospect muddled by confusion. An attempt to see inside my head, to dissect my heart. She had me pinned, or so she thought. My existence in her life has rattled her more than she cares for. Yet, she’s too focused on her own negative feelings to work out why.
Eventually, she shakes her head. “I love Christmas. Codi is just another form of extra when it comes to decorating. For someone who shines rainbows and I’m certain believes in unicorns, she’s fucking scary when it comes to hanging ornaments.”
I laugh, earning a sly smile.
“How’s the injury?”
I touch my side subconsciously. “Feels good. I’m still a bit stiff, but I don’t feel like I’m going to up and die anymore.”
“I should say I’m glad.”
“I’m more for honesty.”
“Well then it sucks that I’m so good at what I do.”
I bark out a rough laugh.
“Surprised you haven’t attempted to escape again,” she mocks me. “Obviously we’re holding you hostage, torturing you by nursing you back to health.”
“You tellin’ me if you were stuck in a bed in my loft, you’d stay there without an argument?”
She looks positively traumatized by the thought.
“Exactly,” I sigh.
Quiet settles between us and I sigh uncomfortably.
“Thank you,” I murmur. “Know coming to my rescue ain’t exactly high up on your Christmas list.”
I watch the line of her throat bob with a thick swallow. “Didn’t do it for you,” she offers unapologetically. “Seeing you suffer was just an added bonus.”
“Well then, you’re welcome.”
We sit in contented silence as the sky turns from its murky grey to the beginnings of twilight. Stars now visible in the sky, the temperature dropping dramatically in the blink of an eye.
“I don’t get it,” I test. “Your dad. He should want me dead, but he’s working his damnedest to make me feel like family. I know you owe me nothin’ but any idea if he plans on taking my life when he’s good and ready?”
Pulling her arms around her body, shielding herself against the cold, she turns her neck, looking me over.
“That’s not Dominic’s M.O., if he’s acting like you’re forgiven, you’re forgiven. If you forever let your past cloud your present, how can you possibly expect to move forward, in search of your future?”
“Poetic,” I muse.
“Dad,” she explains. “He’s preached it all our lives. He lives by the law that you settle grievances in the moment. Hate and anger only fester, likely exaggerating a reaction that never should’ve been. Holding onto resentment does nothing but stop you from achieving what you’re destined for.”
“Smart guy.”
She hugs her knees. “To Codi and my father, you are family. No matter your past sins. In this family, we don’t hold your mistakes against you. Blood is blood and that means something here.”
“Even for you?”
Her eyes close, a soft flutter of her dark lashes against the ruddiness of her cheeks. “This is a hard one for me. They’ve welcomed in a predator who was aiming to place a bullet hole in the very back I’m supposed to protect.”
It makes perfect sense. I’m the very threat they stand united against. And yet, here I stand. In amongst them. Not a wolf hiding among the sheep. A wolf, bared, and not entirely in different attire. It’s important not to forget that regardless of how hospitable Dominic Rein has been, continues to be… he’s feared for a reason.
“No arguments here, beauty,” I grumble. “It’s whacked out to me, too.”
“Ryn,” Codi interrupts. “You do this every year. Now Dad is going to have to do the front lights. You are such a freaking Grinch.”
She storms on a huff before Camryn can respond, her stride purposely pissed off.
We watch her retreat in amusement, smiles on both our faces.
“What about you?” she asks quietly after Codi has disappeared from view. “Christmas; a lover or hater?”
I scratch my beard in discomfort. “It’s just another day.”
I feel her stare. The burning attention of her eyes on my profile.
“We used to celebrate,” I confide when she doesn’t speak. “Lila was like Codi.”
I watch her blink in sadness and I appreciate the lack of commiseration in the gesture. She’s saddened by the situation, and that’s where it ends. No pity or bleeding compassion.
“When she died, there wasn’t too much we cared about celebrating.” I take a breath, unsure why I feel the need to add the next part. “Starting to realize maybe Parker was just goin’ along with my rejection of everything we shared with her.” Maybe it’s to offer her even footing again. She involuntarily showed her vulnerability, and it made her uneasy. This small sliver of me offering it back brings us back to an even playing field. It’s the least I can do, her saving my ass and all.
“I wouldn’t want to celebrate if Dad had been stolen from us.”
I watch her for a beat, a level of understanding passing between us.