“Will you give me your address? I want to send you something?”
That made me pause and my pulse raced.
“You don’t have to. Besides, the way things are, I can’t give you anything. We’ll be lucky to have Christmas dinner.” I sucked in a breath. I hadn’t meant to say that. “It will be fine, though.”
“Have you ever heard that saying it’s better to give than to receive?”
He sounded a little sad, which made me feel like a scrooge.
“This is true. But really, I don’t expect you to get me anything. I’ll just feel bad,” she said.
“Okay.” His reply put weird vibes between us.
“I should go before I burn dinner. I’ll talk to you next year.”
Next year. Had I really just said that? Then again, he wasn’t willing to tell me what was going on over the phone. I didn’t want to tell him how bad things were at home. Still, I didn’t like the way that sounded.
“I meant see you next year,” I amended.
“Yeah. Okay.”
I hung up, not wanting him to do it first.
I stared at the food, no longer hungry.
Mom entered and smiled at me. The food had done the trick to draw them out. “Smells good.”
My stomach had soured, but I mustered up a half-grin as Dan walked in. Dinner went about as well as my conversation with Ashton. Back in my room, I kept replaying it in my head. He hadn’t sounded fine. I debated calling him back and trying to coax out whatever was brothering him. But then, Mom came in crying, and I ended up consoling her the rest of the night.
As Christmas neared, Mom and I had to face the reality of our budget. Dan wasn’t any help. His reply to Mom’s every question was he was working on it. He spent most of his time behind closed doors with his lawyer working on whatever. Defense? I didn’t know. He didn’t go to his office building nor explain anything to Mom.
It wasn’t my relationship, so I could say nothing. Mom had chosen this life where she was taken care of. When I thought back to my dad, it had been similar. She hadn’t known what to do when he’d gotten sick. That was not how I wanted to live my life, but I couldn’t judge her for those choices.
“What is Christmas without a tree?” Mom said.
“We’ve talked about this. We don’t have the money.”
“But your Christmas will be ruined.”
I held her shoulders and stared in her eyes. “It will be fine, Mom. I don’t need things. Really.”
She’d broken out into hiccupping sobs that were ignored by Dan when he walked his lawyer to the front door.
The looks that were traded between them should have freaked me out. It didn’t. I glanced around the oversized house. There was nothing in it that felt like home, and I told Mom as much.
I had been sending texts to Ashton every night. Little messages like goodnight, thinking of you, and I might have sent one out of frustration about Christmas not needing a tree. He’d send me back messages like sleep tight, is it next year yet, and do you want a tree.
The thing that worried me was the ominous call I’d gotten from Celeste.
“You should go back to school,” she’d said.
“Why? Mom needs me.”
“This business with Dad isn’t good. You don’t need to hang around after Christmas.”
I hadn’t liked her tone. She was being too cryptic.
“What do you know?”
“Just trust me.”
She wouldn’t explain and didn’t respond to any more texts. I didn’t know what to make of it. Maybe Dan had told her he’d be arrested soon?
The conversation had me on edge. When a knock came at the door late Christmas Eve, I felt like the stupid girl in a horror movie innocently opening the door knowing it was probably a dumb move.
Ashton stood in the doorway with a huge pine tree propped next to him.
“You’re here.”
I might have sounded a tad too breathy. Then again, the sight of him had stolen all the air from my lungs.
“You wanted a tree.”
I could have thrown myself into his arms, but I held back.
“You didn’t have to.”
His eyes held mine. “I wanted to.”
I sprang a leak from the corner of my eye.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
“Oh yeah.”
I stepped back, my cheeks heating. He lifted the large pine as if it were a feather.
“Where should I put it?”
In the past we’d gotten two trees. One for the formal living room that could be seen from the street through the large picture window. Another in the family room off the kitchen. That was the one we gathered around on Christmas Day.
I led him to the back of the house. Though it was a longer journey, he didn’t seem hampered by the heftiness.
Mom had all the decorations and tools needed for this very thing lined up near the unused hearth. It was as if she’d known we would have one. I quickly pulled out what was needed to have the tree standing upright. Once that was done, I did leap into his arms.
His kiss only reminded me more of the holiday with the minty taste on his tongue.
“Thank you,” I whispered. When we parted, his hands remained snug on my hips.
The sound of a clearing voice had us separating. I unlocked my legs, which I’d wound around his waist. He set me on my feet, my face in flames.
“Mom, this is Ashton, my boyfriend.”
Her eyes widened.
“Mrs. Young. Nice to meet you.”
He extended his hand, and I found myself holding my breath. Outside of me, I’d never seen him intentionally touch anyone. I thought it was one of his quirks. But there he was shaking her hand.
“It’s Mrs. Roberts, actually, but it’s very nice to meet you. Are you from the area?”
Young was my father’s surname, not Dan’s. I looked to her as I hadn’t exactly told her about him yet.
“No, I drove here,” he said.
That surprised me.
“Well, that was very nice of you to…” Mom waved at the tree.
“It’s not a problem. Seeing Willow smile is worth it.”
Mom winked at me as I tried to hold myself from launching at him again. It was little things like this that had made me fall in love with him. I nibbled at my lip, trying not to cry.
He’d taken my hand after letting go of Mom’s and squeezed it now, making nothing else seem to matter.
“We should decorate,” Mom announced.
“I should probably get the groceries out of the car,” he said.
Mom looked at me and I shrugged. He’d thought of everything.
“Let’s do it then,” Mom said.
We followed her out of the house, hand in hand.
“Thank you for saving Christmas,” I whispered.
The only thing that could have stolen some of my joy from this moment came in the form of his next words.
“It’s my first.”
50
Past
* * *
“Mother, will we have a Christmas?”
My teacher had told us all about it. We’d cut out paper and glued our picture in the middle. She said we could hang it from the tree. I held mine out as a present to Mother.
She snatched it from my hand.
“Don’t be silly, Ashton,” she said.
I shouldn’t backtalk, but I spoke out of turn anyway. Maybe if she understood.
“But she said Santa wouldn’t come if we didn’t have a tree.”
Mother frowned at me, and I knew she was mad. I stiffened, afraid she would slap me. Instead, she began to rip the green paper into pieces. She hadn’t even looked at it.
“Listen to me. There is no Santa. You won’t be getting any presents. Therefore, we don’t need a tree.”
Then she tossed my hard work into the trash.
I tried not to cry. I knew what would happen if I did.
“Don’t you cry,” she warned.
Tears burst from my eyes anyway.
She yanked me by the ear and marched me to the door. I couldn’t get away. It hurt too bad.
“You know what happens to bad little boys.”
“Please,” I begged.
“Too late. You know the rules.”
“Please,” I begged again.
The door to the scary basement opened and she pointed.
“Cry all you want down there.”
I took a step. If I didn’t, she’d drag me down and turn off the lights. The door closed behind me.
When the lights went out, I sat on the stair and put my arms around my legs. I laid my head down on my knees. If I went to sleep, when I woke up, she would let me out.
Maybe…
51
Ashton
* * *
For the first time ever, I’d felt part of something. Putting ornaments on a tree might have been insignificant to most who celebrated Christmas, but not for me.
Sawyer would have happily had me share every Christmas with him, but Mother wouldn’t have it. Even after everything, Mother took pleasure in denying me to go with their family to Aspen as they did every Christmas. Since I was a minor, they couldn’t take me. Sawyer would always give me a present, but it wasn’t the same.
Once I turned eighteen, I saved money to go spend the holiday with Finn. He, being like me, hadn’t wanted the reminder that we were unwanted. So we never mentioned the holiday or celebrated while I was there.
In the here and now, Christmas music played in the background as we worked.
“So, Ashton, your family isn’t going to miss you for the holiday?”
It wasn’t an outrageous question. Automatically, I glanced at Willow.
“No, ma’am. My mother is out of town.”
That was the truth, though I didn’t know where she was exactly.
“Your father?”
As much as I wanted not to talk about this, I answered anyway.
“I didn’t live with him growing up.”
That was the truth. The rest I kept to myself.
She nodded. “Well, we are very happy to have you.” She clarified her meaning. “What hotel are you staying at?”
“Mom,” Willow said, giving her pleading wide eyes.
“I hadn’t thought that far,” I admitted.
“You can stay here,” Willow offered.
Before her mother could say otherwise, I said, “It’s fine. I’m sure I can find a hotel.”
“No.” Willow glared at her mother. “He drove all this way. He can stay here.”
Her mother glanced to the ceiling. I didn’t get it at first.
“Sure.” She shook her head. “I’m sure it’s fine. It’s a big house.”
Willow’s stepfather hadn’t made an appearance.
“I don’t want to be any trouble,” I said.
Mother and daughter spoke in meaningful silence I wasn’t privy to.
“If you go, I go with you,” Willow announced.
Her mother’s smiled was forced. “He can stay, but in a different room.”
“Mom, I’m almost twenty-two.”
“It’s still my house. My rules,” her mom said.
“It’s fine,” I said, squeezing Willow’s hand.
It was probably better that way. I wouldn’t want to defile her daughter under her roof.
After a bottle of wine with a dinner whipped up in no time, Willow’s mother regaled us of tales of Willow on Christmas Day. Later, I’d been shown to my room. It had been pointed out that I was on the opposite end of the hall from my girl. Her mother had winked when she remarked that her room was halfway between the two. Willow kissed me at the door as if to prove something to her mom. I kissed her back, but quick and sent her on her way. I hadn’t been taught to be a rule breaker.
Sleep came in spurts. It was a good thing the room had a TV, which I’d kept on all night. I woke up a final time with Willow in bed with me, looking like an angel with her golden hair haloing her head.
“Should you be in here?” I asked.
She crawled over and straddled me. It was a damn good thing a comforter separated us or I’d been inside her.
Her lips were like honey. My hands slid down her back to her ass. I pulled her tight as I could to me and she ground her hips.
“Jesus.”
She laughed. “It is his birthday and all,” reminding us both what day it was.
I groaned when her mother’s voice could be heard on the other side of the door.
“Time for breakfast.”
Willow giggled when I let my hands fall away.
“Are you regretting bringing us food?”
“You’re going to need food,” I said, reaching for her.
She dodged and was off the bed before I could get to her. I would so have to apologize to the guys. I understood why they couldn’t keep their hands off their girls.
Willow was so close, I could reach her before she could get out the door. I could have her against the wall and deep inside her before she could blink.
“Willow,” her mom called, reminding us she was there.
I blew out a breath. “You better go.”
“Are you coming?”
I groaned. “Not soon enough.”
She laughed. “You’re bad.”
“And you have to go and be a good girl.”
Her flirty smile had me reaching under the covers to fist my cock.
After a quick, cold shower, I followed the smell of food to the kitchen. The house was large, but homey like Sawyer’s had been. A vast difference to the stark minimalist house I’d grown up in.
There were pictures on the walls of Willow and her stepsister as girls into women. In every one, Willow looked happy.
“Good morning,” her mother greeted.
A large man looked over from the screen where CNBC was on.
“Ashton, this is my husband, Dan. Dan, this is Willow’s boyfriend, Ashton.”
He didn’t make a move to greet me with a handshake.
“Nice to meet you, sir,” I said instead.
He grunted a reply.
“He brought the tree and groceries, honey. Don’t you want to thank him?” her mom prodded.
The glare he threw her way was enough for me to intervene.
“It’s not a big deal,” I said.
Willow was frowning at her stepdad as her mother had wilted under the big man’s stare.
“Is this for me?” I asked, pointing to a plate, and both women turned their focus on me.
“Yes.” Her mother immediately asked me if I wanted juice or milk.
We ate in companionable silence. When I was done, her mother spoke while giving furtive glances at her husband.
“Willow, I’m sorry I don’t have any presents. I was out, but—”
My girl jumped in and patted her mom’s hand. “I told you it’s okay.”
I slid one of the two envelopes I brought downstairs in her mom’s direction.
“I wanted to thank you for having me.”
I’d never given Mother a present after that first one I’d made her in kindergarten. Willow’s mom pulled the envelope to her chest like she cherished it. Her reaction was the one I’d hoped for all those years ago.
“You really shouldn’t have,” she said.
“Please, open it,” I said.
She pulled the card trimmed in gold foil from the envelope and gaped.
“This is too much.” She tapped her husband’s shoulder. He was focused on the TV and hadn’t spoken at all while we’d eaten. “Ashton gave us a trip to Pebble Beach Resort for three days.”
“There is a spa package for you and a golf one for you, sir,” I said.
Dan’s face shifted into a level of respect. “Your father is a member.”
“Yes, sir. I didn’t know what I could give you all and he suggested it. If you don’t like golfing—”
I’d called my father because I had no clue, and bringing a bottle
of wine felt insufficient.
“I love to golf. If you’re sure, I wouldn’t want to put you out.”
He stared at me as if he could gauge my level of wealth with my next answer.
“Willow mentioned things have been stressful. I thought you and your wife would enjoy a quick getaway.”
Her mom jumped in. “We can drive there,” she offered with hope all over her face.
He nodded at me. “Thanks.”
I held out the other envelope to Willow. Her eyes lit up and she took it. After she opened it, she covered her mouth.
“Italy,” she gasped.
It was the one place she wanted to go.
“Yes. If your mother is okay, I thought I could take you there tomorrow.”
Willow was old enough to make a decision, but again, respect.
“Rome,” she breathed. “You remembered.”
Little did she know that I hadn’t forgotten anything she’d told me.
“Mom?” Willow asked.
She didn’t even look at her husband. “Yes. I think you should go.”
Willow hopped up and down clapping.
“You should pack. We leave first thing in the morning,” I told her.
Willow’s mom cooked Christmas dinner while my girl packed. When Dan left, I’d slipped an American Express gift card to her mom.
“For food.”
I should have expected the hug, but I’d only known one mom. Sawyer’s grew up with my boundaries and never pushed the limits. I stood rigid waiting for the feeling of glass shards to prick my skin. When it didn’t happen, I marveled in the moment and hugged her back.
Her tears wet my shirt, and she thanked me profusely.
“We’ll pay you back as soon as this mess is cleared up.”
I understood that feeling. I’d grown up not wanting to take advantage of Sawyer’s parents’ kindness for fear it would end.
“No problem,” I said.
I hadn’t given it with expectation to get it back.
“You’re a good man, Ashton. Your mother must be proud.”
I only smiled. No need to spoil Christmas with that truth.
The next day, as we sat on the private plane, Willow finally questioned me about my whereabouts days before.
Craving Dragonflies Page 27