Paper Stars

by Devon Monk

  They’d strung the whole scene with Christmas lights and candles, greenery stuffed in just the right places to somehow make the gathering feel both whimsical and sweet.

  Like we were looking in on a little moment when the yard statues all got together in the cold and storm of winter to remind each other of friendship, happiness, and love.

  Okay, maybe I was reading too much into the scene, but at the very least, it was cute, fun, and festive.

  “Has the blog gotten any comments yet?” Hogan asked.

  Yeah, I could see how hard he was working not to encourage her.

  Jean scrolled for a minute. “About a hundred. Oh, here’s a good one: ‘Darling photo, but remember, even little penguins like to stay safe at home during the winter windstorms. Merry Christmas, Mrs. Y.’”

  Mrs. Yates.

  “That doesn’t sound angry,” Ryder said with another huge yawn.

  Jean made a sound. “I told you, she loves this stuff.”

  “Mmmm.” He leaned forward, his arm wrapping around my waist, his head tipping down to rest against my shoulder.

  He had to be exhausted. “Did you sleep today?” I asked.

  “Some.”

  “Some?”

  I could feel him smile against my shoulder. “I did some Christmas stuff.”

  “Like what? We already have a tree. And a dragon. Merry Christmas.”

  “Your gift was in the truck. And that dragon is not my responsibility. It ate my welcome mat.”

  “You went shopping? You drove?”

  “Gnawed on a corner or swallowed the whole mat?” Hogan wanted to know.

  “The entire mat in one gulp. It was startling.”

  “Testify,” Hogan agreed.

  “Tell me you didn’t drive,” I said.

  “I didn’t drive. Jean helped me.”

  Jean grinned and flicked us a thumbs-up.

  My cheeks went a little warm. “Ryder, you didn’t have to go out and buy me a gift when you’re injured.”

  “It’s Christmas, Delaney,” he mumbled, only half-awake. “Worth it.”

  He was getting heavy against my back. I shifted us so that he was resting against the couch.

  He pulled me close, wrapping around me like he was afraid I’d walk out when he wasn’t looking.

  We really had been apart for too long.

  The rest of the evening was spent talking with my sisters and Hogan.

  As was our tradition, our promise to each other, we drank and nibbled on cookies, fudge, and toffee Hogan had made, and gazed at the Christmas tree covered in softly pulsing lights.

  Myra had an angel atop her tree.

  It was peaceful. The music soft and soothing, the company my favorite in the whole world.

  And then, when it was midnight, we followed through with our other tradition.

  It was a family thing passed down from our great-great grandparents. And as long as at least two Reeds were in the same room together at midnight on Christmas Eve, we’d always done it.

  We joined hands, held our breath, and made a wish that could last for exactly however long we held our breath.

  I wish joy, peace, health and love for all those within Ordinary, especially Ryder, who might or might not love me, but whom I love with all my breath, all my heart, all my soul.

  We all exhaled, except for Jean who held up one finger and squeezed her eyes shut, nodding along with whatever list of wishes she was rapid-firing her way through.

  She did that every year.

  She finally let out a burst of air, and Hogan chuckled, then tipped toward her and kissed her lips.

  “Can’t wait to find out what that was all about,” he murmured against her mouth.

  “Can’t wait for you to,” she said.

  “No snow,” I warned.

  She made kitten eyes. “Would I wish for snow on Christmas?”

  “Yes,” we all said in tandem.

  She laughed. “Well, I’m not telling because then whatever I wished for won’t come true. And believe me, I really, really want it to come true.”

  From the look she was giving Hogan, and from the look he gave her back, I had a good feeling a few of those wishes were going to come true tonight. I guess it paid to have a half-Jinn as a boyfriend.

  “Ready?” Ryder squeezed my hand. I realized I hadn’t let go of his yet.

  “I’ll drive,” I said.

  We all wished each other a Merry Christmas, said our good-byes, and hugged as if we were seeing each other off to a new adventure in a faraway land.

  And maybe we were. Because it was officially Christmas day, and that was a day when wishes came true, right?

  A tall dark and dashing figure walked down the sidewalk then right up to Myra’s porch, pausing on the stairs.

  Bathin.

  Myra crossed her arms over her chest. Bathin held up a bottle of wine and said something I couldn’t hear.

  She paused, then shrugged and stepped aside to let him in. I caught her eye, but she just waved me off.

  Well, well, well. Could there be something more going on between these two than Myra trying to find a way to get rid of him?

  I hesitated. Maybe I should stay and make sure she was okay. No. I knew whatever the demon wanted, she could handle it.

  “Merry Christmas, Delaney!” Jean called out.

  “No snow,” I said again as Jean slid into Hogan’s car.

  She just laughed. “Good-night, Scrooge.”

  Chapter Ten

  I had expected Ryder to fall asleep on the drive back to his place. Well, our place, I guess.

  His cabin on the lake had been feeling less like home over the last couple months he’d been gone, and me more like a stranger drifting through it.

  But not tonight. Tonight, it was the only place I wanted to be.

  I didn’t know how we went forward from here. Maybe we would drift like this, sometimes together, sometimes at a distance.

  Maybe our relationship would be caught in the pause between right now and forever and that was okay.

  Maybe it didn’t matter that he’d never told me he loved me, never said those three words.

  I knew what I saw in his eyes when he looked at me, I knew what I heard when he laughed with me, I knew what I felt when he touched me.

  It was love.

  I parked the Jeep, and we sat there in the dark for a moment, the porch light glowing warm and yellow, inviting, waiting.

  “So, it’s officially Christmas morning,” Ryder said.

  I glanced at the dash clock. Twenty minutes after midnight. “Yes.”

  “That means I can give you your present.” He pushed open the door, grunting as he carefully slid out of the seat.

  It was probably time for him to take more painkillers.

  I followed him to the porch. It was cold out, like the thermometer had suddenly dropped ten degrees.

  I shivered and my breath came out in clouds.

  Ryder worked the lock, but turned around before opening the door, his body blocking the threshold. “Close your eyes.”

  “Didn’t have time to buy wrapping paper?”

  He grinned. “Close your eyes.”

  It was late, and we were both tired, but there was a feeling in the air, a kind of timelessness and peace that made warmth bloom inside me.

  I didn’t care what gift he had gotten me. Would be just as happy with nothing but his arms around me. He was what I wanted in my life. He was my gift.

  I smiled and closed my eyes. “Don’t run me into a wall.”

  I felt him step closer, then his arms wrapped around my waist, his mouth so close to mine, I could feel his breath on my cheek.

  “Promise.” He kissed me gently, once on the center of my lips, then took hold of both of my hands in one of his.

  I heard the door open, heard Spud and the dragon gallop toward us, felt them both nosing around like we’d hidden treats or welcome mats in our pockets.

  Ryder drew me deeper into the house. I had p
retty good spatial awareness, knew we were standing in the middle of the living room, facing the tree.

  He must have left my gift under the tree.

  “Now?” I asked.

  “Hold on.” He let go of my hands. “Don’t peek.”

  He moved away, and I heard him reach for something with a slight grunt.

  I shook my head. “If you didn’t buy wrapping paper, you could have just thrown a blanket over whatever it is.”

  “Hush.” A little more fiddling. “Okay.” He stood in front of me again, and linked our hands together. “Open your eyes.”

  I opened my eyes.

  Stars.

  Hundreds of paper stars hung from the ceiling, fluttering on thin strings of tinsel and winking lights.

  Silver and gold, blue and white, red and green, the stars were a constellation of wonder, a childhood memory, a wish come true.

  Because across every star was written three words in Ryder’s bold, sharp handwriting.

  I love you.

  He’d written it in the stars. Literally.

  This. This. What we had right now, this connection, this need, this warmth, this love was enough.

  Would always be enough, words or no words.

  Tears gathered behind my eyes, and I pressed my hand to my mouth on a small, incredulous laugh.

  “You did this?” I asked.

  “I did.”

  “For me?”

  “For you.”

  “All of it?” My voice came out small and a little shaky.

  “You don’t like it?

  I shook my head, because I couldn’t find words under all of the emotions inside me. But then I caught the worry in his eyes.

  “No!” I said, “I mean yes. I do! It’s...it’s amazing. Perfect.”

  He cradled my face with his free hand. His eyes were the color of sunlight through deep green waters, his smile soft, his body strong and sheltering and familiar and inviting.

  “Delaney.” My name fell from his mouth like a caress. “I love you.”

  My breath caught on another laugh and this time I couldn’t stop the tears.

  “I love you too.” I sniffled.

  He smiled, and drew me into him, stepped into me, pulling our bodies together as if we were two parts of one whole, complete on our own, but so much more together.

  His thumb brushed my lower lip, his eyes focused on my mouth as he bent, just slightly, and lowered his head.

  I stretched up, just slightly, our breaths mingling, our lips finally touching, sliding into that soft rhythm of give and take, of taste and sensation and joy, and promise, and yes, love.

  I savored him, the quiet catch of his breath, the shifting of his wide shoulders as he erased every millimeter of distance between us that he could.

  Nothing had changed with those three little words.

  Everything had changed with those three little words.

  I was dizzy with bliss.

  When we finally pulled apart, it was only an inch, as if neither of us could stand the thought of letting the other go.

  We stood there, holding each other beneath the paper stars, as the light of the tree twinkled with memories and promises.

  And just beyond the window, it started to snow.

  Jean.

  I groaned, and he chuckled. “It is kind of romantic,” he said.

  “Say it again,” I whispered.

  “It’s kind of romantic?”

  “The other thing.”

  “I love you.”

  I sighed. “I love you too.”

  I slipped my fingers between his and stared out the big window at the softly falling flakes and the lake beyond.

  “Think it will stop snowing by morning?”

  He lifted one shoulder. “Maybe. Or maybe we’ll be snowed in. Together.”

  I leaned my head on his shoulder, an immense relaxation settling in me. As if I’d been holding the weight of something, waiting on tip-toe, stretched too thin, hoping for more than just those three words. Hoping for him.

  Which I supposed was true. I’d been wishing for him every Christmas since I was a child.

  And he had, no, we had, finally come true.

  “How about we enjoy tonight, together, alone, and worry about tomorrow tomorrow?” He pressed a kiss into my hair.

  “That sounds perfect,” I said.

  We kissed again, and then made our way to the bedroom, slowly shedding our clothes.

  “Merry Christmas, Ryder Bailey,” I whispered against his lips as he pulled us both down onto his huge, soft bed, while the snow gently tapped the windows, and the dragon and dog curled up in front of the fire.

  “Merry Christmas, Delaney Reed.”

  Acknowledgments

  Big, big thank you goes out to Dejsha Knight and Sharon Thompson, two terrific beta readers who helped me make this story shine.

  I’d also like to give a big thank you to the Deadline Dames and my fellow indie and hybrid writers who offered suggestions and plenty of encouragement along the way.

  To my sisters and brothers and all my family: you are the heart of my holidays. Thank you for the adventures and loving memories. Let’s make many more.

  More gratitude goes to my husband Russ, and sons Kameron and Konner. You are the biggest joy in my life. Thank you for letting me be a part of your world. I love you. And hey, thanks for all your help with my broken ankle situation. This story wouldn’t have gotten finished without your assistance with…well, pretty much everything.

  Lastly, but never the least, I want to thank you, dear reader, for giving this story a try. I hope you’ll come back soon to catch up with the creatures and gods and people who live in Oregon’s quirkiest little beach town.

  About the Author

  Devon Monk is a national best selling author of urban fantasy. Her series include: Ordinary Magic, House Immortal, Allie Beckstrom, Broken Magic, and Shame and Terric. She also writes the Age of Steam steampunk series, and the occasional short story which can be found in her collection: A Cup of Normal and in various anthologies.

  She has one husband, two sons, and lives in Oregon. When not writing, Devon is drinking too much coffee, watching hockey, and knitting silly things.

  Want to read more from Devon?

  www.devonmonk.com

  Also by Devon Monk

  ORDINARY MAGIC

  Death and Relaxation

  Devils and Details

  Gods and Ends

  Rock Candy - An Ordinary Magic Story

  SHAME AND TERRIC

  Backlash

  HOUSE IMMORTAL

  House Immortal

  Infinity Bell

  Crucible Zero

  BROKEN MAGIC

  Hell Bent

  Stone Cold

  ALLIE BECKSTROM

  Magic to the Bone

  Magic in the Blood

  Magic in the Shadows

  Magic on the Storm

  Magic at the Gate

  Magic on the Hunt

  Magic on the Line

  Magic without Mercy

  Magic for a Price

  AGE OF STEAM

  Dead Iron

  Tin Swift

  Cold Copper

  Hang Fire (short story)

  SHORT STORIES

  A Cup of Normal (collection)

  Yarrow, Sturdy and Bright (Once Upon a Curse anthology)

  A Small Magic (Once Upon a Kiss anthology)