You for Christmas

by Madeline Ash

  Without looking up, Jed murmured, “What’s the deal?”

  Felix tugged off his glasses and ran a hand over his eyes. “I want her in my life, man. I know that more than I’ve ever known anything. And I know she wants it too.”

  “I thought work was the love of your life.”

  “It was. I haven’t even thought about it since she’s been here.”

  “She interested?”

  “She was last night. Then she pushed me away and said that’s how it has to be.”

  Jed angled his hand to shade in a shadow. “You going to push back?”

  Defeat made a grab for him as he said, “I tried.”

  The pencil paused. He received a steady look. “What would life be like without her?”

  “Wasted.”

  “Then what the hell?”

  Felix crossed his arms on the table and lowered his head. “She asked me not to push.” His voice came out muffled. “And I’m sensing that she’s been tiptoeing around this gaping hole from her past and I really don’t want to be the one to push her into it. I might not know how to pull her back out.”

  Jed’s silence came with the gentle scraping of a pencil on paper. Then he said, “Would you want to be with her if she’d been in prison all this time?”

  “What?” Startled, he sat up straight. “She’s been driving trucks.”

  “Yeah, but you’re saying there’s something bothering her that you don’t know about. So let’s run the scenarios. The truck driving is a cover story for prison. Would that stop you wanting to be with her?”

  After everything Felix had learned about her? Her vulnerability and courage to turn her life around, to be a better person? “No,” he said. Whatever crime she’d committed, she was rehabilitated. “We’d work through that.”

  Jed leaned back, sliding the pencil behind his ear. “What if she’d been dealing? Maybe she’s back in the country on witness protection. Flipped on the big boss.”

  “She flipped,” he said. “That takes guts.”

  “One could argue that dealing takes guts, because of the constant threat of being caught. Doesn’t make it right. You need to give me more than admiration of her courage, man.”

  “I’d need to get my head around it. But you can’t hold mistakes against someone if they’ve changed.”

  That earned him a curious blue glance.

  They ran through a dozen more possibilities, all concluding with Felix accepting it or finding ways to make it work. Her past might be a mess, but his future had her in it. That much was certain.

  “Okay.” His friend flipped to a blank page. “You’re good to go.”

  Felix nodded, doubt gone.

  “She’s over there.”

  “I’ll let her see Stevie first. One life-changing event at a time.”

  “Don’t leave it too long. Hesitation isn’t convincing.”

  “You’re right,” Felix said with a grin. “A guy can only get away with hesitating if he’s got a winning card up his sleeve, say, I don’t know, the fact that he’s secretly royalty or something. But I appreciate the reminder that not all of us are born Prince Charming.”

  He got a punch in the ribs for that.

  Regan was vaguely aware of the hushed, concerned conversation between Felix and his friends. They’d all shared pizza and drinks, a Christmas Eve dinner that she hadn’t been able to stomach. She was curled up in the corner of the booth, knees pulled to her chest, face down. The anxiety in her gut had solidified into a clenched fist, clutching and twisting inward until she was almost doubled over from the strain.

  Stevie had called Felix to say she had landed safely. She was on her way.

  Regan didn’t have the capacity to know how long ago that had been. Which meant her sister could arrive any minute.

  “She really doesn’t look all right,” Jed muttered, to a general hum of agreement.

  “Has she had much to drink?” This from Parker.

  “Nothing,” Felix spoke quietly from beside her. He’d inched closer throughout the meal, and now her feet were tucked under his thigh. Small comfort, but it kept her sitting here instead of bolting down the beach and not turning back. “She’s nervous.”

  “Maybe she should eat something.” Alexia’s voice came from across the table. “She’s been shaking for a while.”

  The trembling had set in half an hour ago, along with the nausea.

  “She’ll eat with Stevie.” Then Felix’s hand found hers, curling tight and holding on. Regan clung back as he leaned in, his arm imprinting against hers and, for a moment, the shaking stopped. “Hey. How about we go upstairs to wait?”

  She raised her head, feeling faint, and met his troubled blue eyes. His face was close, shoulders turned towards her to cut them off from the group. So strange that even now, with nerves eating her alive, she wanted to kiss him.

  “It should be a private moment for you two,” he murmured.

  “But you’ll be there.” She needed him to hear it all. “You said you’d be there.”

  “I’ll be there.” He said it firmly. A promise to support her, despite how she was hurting him. “Come on.”

  He drew her out of the booth, circling an arm around her waist. Regan felt the attention of his friends, but couldn’t bring herself to look at them.

  “Text me when she gets here?” Felix asked them. “I’ll come down.”

  And then he was leading her through the crowded venue and up the staircase beside the bar. The general chatter faded away, replaced by the thundering of Regan’s heart. She hardly saw the steps, hardly needed to with Felix’s arm secure around her. There was no awkwardness in his touch, no longing. He was all support and concern in her darkest hour. When she fumbled with the swipe card, he took her hand and waved it over the chip in the door. When she stood in the middle of the room, completely at a loss, he guided her to the bed and sat her down. When she said, “I can’t,” he knelt in front of her and answered, “She’s going to be so happy.”

  But you won’t be, because you’re going to stay and listen.

  He’d only just opened the balcony doors, letting in a salty breeze, when his phone buzzed. Their eyes locked and for a moment, he looked as nervous as she did.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  He waited until she nodded, then left.

  Alone, Regan’s breath came fast. She made herself stand, limbs heavy, staying close to the bed. Her pulse flew so rapidly she felt sick, but it wasn’t long before footsteps sounded in the hall, shuffling to a stop by the door.

  Stevie’s low voice carried. “If it’s a pony, we’ll need to reassess our friendship.”

  The lock clunked.

  Regan stopped breathing.

  The last time she had seen Stevie, her sister had been eighteen. A tomboy with blonde hair, clever brown eyes, and “A” grades. She’d been exactly who she’d wanted to be and ignored anyone who said nerds couldn’t be cool—because she damn well was. With lungs burning, Regan knew the Stevie in her memory was eight years out of date and she’d missed every minute in between.

  A woman stepped into the room. Still with short pale hair, still slender, but her features were more mature, her body stronger. She wore baggy jeans rolled up to mid-calf, black Chuck Taylors, and a white singlet. She was smiling, expecting a good surprise.

  She got a bad one.

  As her dark gaze found Regan, she halted. Shock bleached her skin and she swayed, struck hard in cold blood. Blindly, she reached out behind her and then Felix was stepping through the doorway, taking Stevie’s hand and closing the door.

  Regan wanted to run to her. Clutch her. Kiss her. Be hugged so tightly her skin bruised.

  She didn’t presume to be welcomed that warmly.

  “What is going on?” Stevie was blinking back tears, looking almost frightened. “Felix...what?”

  His answer was a murmur. “Regan’s come home.”

  Regan stood there, strangled by remorse, and waited for the confusion, the anger,
the accusations. Instead, she got silence and a stare full of sorrow. Say something. Acknowledge me.

  Then she realized Stevie was too close to crying to speak.

  “Hi,” Regan whispered, a pitiful offering.

  Stevie didn’t answer. Her mouth bowed over a trembling chin and she stared back, a hand on her middle. Regan might well have stabbed her in the gut.

  “I—” God, there was too much to say. “I wanted to see you again.”

  At that, Stevie’s shoulders slumped and her eyes glistened.

  Regan took a leaden step forward, guilt renting her heart in two. “I’m sorry I left you.”

  Anguish drowned her sister’s face. Her knuckles were white where she clutched Felix.

  “Regan.” The word broke. “Where have you been?”

  She swallowed regret. It went down like acid. “Canada. Driving trucks.”

  Stevie’s pained confusion was question enough.

  “I’ve made mistakes,” Regan said, looking quickly at Felix. He nodded slightly, his gaze reassuring. “And I’m so sorry.”

  When she stepped forward again, Stevie drew back, eyes wide. Too overwhelmed. Dismayed, Regan stopped.

  “You ran away,” her sister said, tossing the topic at Regan’s feet.

  Regan picked it up miserably. “Yes.”

  “You ran away. You left me behind. You didn’t care.”

  Didn’t care? Distressed, Regan shook her head and in a heartbeat, Felix had crossed the room to stand beside her. His fingers threaded through hers and she found the strength to answer.

  “You were the only thing I did care about.”

  Stevie took a shaky step towards the hammock and sat down. She didn’t seem to notice how it swayed. “Then how could you leave me?” she asked, followed an instant later by, “Why are you back? When are you leaving again? Don’t do this to me if you’re going to go. I don’t—tell me what this is about.”

  “I’m not leaving unless you want me to.” She sat down on the bed, as if to prove it.

  Stevie scrubbed a hand over her face. “When did you get here?” Suspicion hardened her wet features as she looked to where Felix stood beside the bed, holding Regan’s hand. “Felix. How did you know she was here?”

  “I landed in Melbourne a few days ago,” Regan answered before he could. “And I...I tracked down Felix and convinced him to let me stay with him. I made him swear not to tell you—it’s not his fault. I just couldn’t handle it all at once.”

  “Handle it?” Her sister repeated, insult squaring her jaw. “You couldn’t handle it?”

  Regan’s throat tightened as she shook her head. Guilt could be unbearably heavy.

  “I’m sorry that abandoning your only family makes you feel bad.” And then, Stevie drew back her bow and pierced Regan with the hardest question of all. “Why did you leave?”

  For a disgraceful moment, she considered lying. Stevie was right in front of her and Felix was by her side. How could she risk losing this? Then his grip tightened, an offer of support that reminded her why this had to be told. If she wanted a fresh start, with people who wanted her in their lives, she had to be transparent. No secrets, no lies. She had to spit it out and not contemplate the consequences of how badly that could backfire.

  “I—” She felt sick. “It’s hard to know where to start.”

  “Well, there’s the theft of twenty grand.” Stevie clasped her hands in her lap. Resentment was ruling now, and somehow, it was easier to face than tears. “Maybe start with what the hell our foster parents ever did to deserve that?”

  “Nothing,” Regan answered quietly. Except not believe her.

  “Did you leave because of me?” A question delivered with anger, but she saw the sudden fear in Stevie’s eyes that maybe it was.

  “Kind of,” she admitted wretchedly, and watched the blood drain from her sister’s face for a second time. “It was to protect you.”

  Felix’s grip changed and she knew he was thinking of the deal behind the gym shed. Take Stevie, protect her, and he could take the money. Suddenly, his nervousness made sense. This wasn’t just about unearthing Regan’s lies to Stevie, but his own.

  Stevie had gone still. Like this was a moment she’d both longed for and dreaded. Carefully, warily, she asked, “Protect me from what?”

  Regan lowered her face, jamming her eyes shut. Say it, just say it. “Jason.”

  Their foster brother.

  The answering silence pressed against her like a smothering hand to the mouth.

  “He...we...I slept with him.” Even now she couldn’t call it what it was.

  Felix’s hand slackened in hers.

  “You slept with Jason?” Stevie’s question was oddly neutral.

  Panic held her by the throat, choking her, demanding that she clarify. Clarify that she was unclean, not worthy of kindness and love. She had allowed it to happen, so surely she’d got what she deserved. Agonizingly aware of Felix’s loose grip, she closed her eyes and said, “Not...willingly.”

  Stevie inhaled sharply and Felix groaned, his body sinking down onto the mattress beside her. With disgust or dismay, she didn’t know, and fretfully, she braced herself for her sister’s reaction, feeling as resilient as a warrior facing a cavalry charge. Stevie would accuse her of lying. Or claim that she’d brought it on herself, or encouraged him because she’d wanted to mess up the family. It fit with the way Regan had been back then, off the rails, destructive, careless of how her behavior affected others. Because of that, Regan had believed it was her own fault for a long time.

  Then she’d acknowledged cause and effect.

  But her sister mightn’t, and although not having Stevie in her life was an old ache, it flared viciously on the brink of losing her all over again. Add Felix distancing himself because she wasn’t the strong woman he’d fallen for—and the top shot off her pain threshold and suddenly, everything went numb.

  She looked up. Stevie’s face was pale, tacky; her eyes horrorstruck.

  “When?” It was a croak.

  Regan’s memory of the first time came without context. She had no idea when it had happened. But she knew he’d primed her for it. Could have been a month in the making, could have been six. A hunter shaping a spear, one knife-edged stroke at a time, knowing one day, it would impale his prey so smoothly she wouldn’t even think to scream.

  Sideways looks in the kitchen after school. Blocking her path upstairs if he met her on his way down. Walking into the bathroom despite her calling out that she’d be a minute. Turning normal, safe spaces into traps. Then he started muttering criticisms like, “Figures the moment you got tits, you’d be flashing them around.” Hot, horrified, she would grow still, silent. Wait for him to drift away before looking down at her budding and newly bleeding body and wondering what he meant.

  At school, the sex education teacher had claimed that women should be proud of their bodies. Respect them, every lump and cramp and stretch mark.

  “Our bodies,” the teacher had said, “are mysterious and miraculous.”

  She forgot to mention macabre.

  The blood that leaked onto the sheets. The pain, the specific agony reserved for an abused female body and her beaten-down spirit.

  “Slut.” He’d hissed the word that first time, as his finger shot high between her legs. She cried into the palm pressed firmly over her mouth. “Making me want this.”

  Shame filled her now, the sticky gore within.

  “I was thirteen,” she answered dully. “But it happened, on and off, until I ran away.”

  Felix cursed, pushing to his feet. The loss of his touch was like a light going out. The darkness howled when he strode to the open balcony doors and stared at the sea with his back turned. Alarm shot through the numbness. He thought she was dirty, contaminated.

  He didn’t want her anymore.

  Pain split open, joining the shame, an unbearable combination. She blinked back tears as she looked to her sister.

  “Why didn’t you�
��” Stevie’s face was ashen. “Did you tell anyone?”

  Regan lifted her chin. She’d wanted to after the first time; of course she’d wanted to. But, “He said if I told anyone, he’d do the same to you.”

  He’d worded the threat more violently. As if he hadn’t given Regan enough nightmares.

  Stevie looked ill, her lips clamped together as she struggled to swallow. Then her expression broke with a full body sob. She slipped from the hammock to her knees, pressing her face into her hands.

  Regan rose and stepped towards her. “I tried to make it stop,” she said, fearing that Stevie was upset by Regan’s weakness. “I tried being easy, just like he said. I thought maybe he wouldn’t want me if he wasn’t the only one.” If nothing else, she’d hoped like hell it would wash him away in a sea of similar experiences, but in the end, it only gave her sense-of-self deeper water in which to drown.

  “And then I told the Barnetts. The same day you told me Felix was going to leave his dad. I thought if he could find the courage to make his life better, then I could, too.” She’d sat them down at the dining table and explained what had been going on under their roof for almost three years. “But they didn’t believe me. They called me a troublemaker. A delinquent, trying to mess up their family.” Our Jason would never do that, you lying little bitch. “They called Jason in. They told him.”

  “Jesus,” Felix cursed under his breath. He kept his back turned.

  “He suggested punishment for my lies.” A tremor of rage ran through her at the memory. “Remember how his parents had saved that twenty grand for him to travel Europe after exams? He suggested that you go with him, Stevie. You were just about to finish high school, too, so you should get to celebrate the same way, and it’d serve me right to have to stay home. They agreed, but I knew. I knew what he was going to do and I couldn’t—” Her words caught on a hitch. “I couldn’t let it happen to you, too.”

  Stevie looked up, red eyes full of despair. “I knew there was a reason you stole that money. There had to be. I should’ve known all of this before it came to that.”

  Regan breathed in, darting a glance at Felix. His back was still turned. No matter his disgust, he was a part of this. “I stole it the next morning. Gave half to Felix at school and ran with the rest that night.”