Don't Plan to Stay

by Kaje Harper

  Donnie came toward us. “You guys need any help?”

  “No, we’re fine. Thanks.” Dad glanced at his watch. “Closing in twenty minutes. I’ll ring the bell in ten and let people know.”

  “Only a few people left now,” Donnie said. “Should be smooth enough.”

  “Then you could do me a favor.” Dad jerked his chin toward the displays. “Pick out one of those trees to bring back to the house with us.”

  “For real? I thought you guys weren’t doing a tree this year.”

  I liked the shine in Donnie’s eyes. “We can borrow one for overnight. What’s Christmas without a tree?”

  “Yeah!”

  Dad said, “Pick one out, and we’ll take it with us when we close.”

  For the next ten minutes, I spotted Donnie moving ornaments from other trees onto the biggest pine. He saw me looking and smiled sheepishly, but he didn’t stop. When Dad rang the warning bell, he also announced that the remaining holiday merchandise was a third off. The resulting frenzy meant we carried several bags and a big boxed tree outside and closed ten minutes late. But the customers left with huge smiles, and we were done on a high note. We locked the door and dimmed the lights.

  “Merry Christmas!” Donnie ripped off his apron and tossed it in the air, then flushed.

  Dad actually laughed. “Hear, hear! Let’s get the cash done and call it quits. We can clean up another day.”

  The store looked like a Mongol horde had sacked it, so I was totally willing to put that off. “You picked a tree, Donnie?”

  “This one.” He touched a branch. “If you think it’ll fit.”

  “Of course it will. We’ve had bigger.” Dad sounded over-hearty, but he was clearly trying.

  I loved him so much in that moment, I hugged him tight around the waist. “Donnie and I will carry it.”

  “Good plan. I’ll light the way.”

  I’ll always remember that trip across the frozen nursery. We duct-taped the trunk sections of the tree so they wouldn’t come apart, interwoven as they were with garlands and ornaments. Dad walked behind us, trying to aim the big flashlight ahead of our feet, while Donnie and I carried the jangling, glittering, awkwardly overloaded tree.

  We slipped on the trail, despite Donnie having sanded it. More than once, an ornament dropped off and crunched underfoot, but they were all cheapos, and we were in a mood to laugh over it. Dad picked up the biggest bits behind us, calling us clumsy clods and graceless rapscallions, destroyers of glass, ceramic, and paper. I laughed and breathed in the cold wind and starry twilight, with Donnie muttering under his breath.

  It was a trick to get the decked tree up the steps and squeeze it in the door, but we tilted up the branches, and only lost one ornament there. Then we set it in the usual spot in the family room and plugged it in.

  Donnie laughed. “It looks drunk. Let me fix those garlands! Wow.”

  Dad and I stood back as he circled the tree, tweaking and rehanging and untangling. The colored lights glinted off the dark window and reflected in the glass of the china cabinet. A moment of off-kilter almost-familiarity hit me like a stomach punch. Any moment now, Mom will come in and—

  I turned to Dad, and he held out an arm for me. As he hugged me, Willow nosed at his other hand, whining as if jealous for attention. He rubbed her face and baby-talked her, and I was able to breathe again. Donnie was here, and it was a different year. The lights colored his face, as he turned the ornaments with careful fingers to make sure each showed its best side to the room. That expression was worth the catch in my chest.

  Dad cleared his throat. “I’ll get us some food started. There’s stew in the freezer to reheat.”

  Donnie jolted as if coming back from some other space. “Sounds good, Mr. L. Thanks. For everything.”

  “You boys get that thing fixed up. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.” He headed to the kitchen with Willow trotting at his heels.

  Donnie stared after him, eyes less bright. “This is okay, isn’t it? The tree was his idea.”

  “Sure. I think we’ll all be a bit up and down tonight, you know?”

  “Me too.” Donnie turned back to me. “Last year— no, that doesn’t matter. But this is great.”

  “You’re really not sick of the trees and ornaments yet?”

  “Nope. Are you?”

  “No, this is pretty. But if you put Christmas carols on the stereo, I might have to castrate you.”

  “Ouch, okay, no carols.” He grinned. “Not a hardship. If I hear one more fake little-kid voice singing about their mother’s sex life with Santa, I’ll go ballistic.”

  “You don’t want to hear about kissing?” I wrapped my arms around him from behind.

  “Not het kissing. Now if it was the Cocky Boys, hell yeah, bring it on. Though not in front of the kids.”

  I kissed the side of his neck. “How about this?”

  “Hell yeah, bring that on too.” He turned enough to catch my lips with his. “Mm.”

  We held each other, kissing in front of the tree. I felt such a mix of emotions, I wasn’t sure what to do with them all. I focused on just feeling Donnie’s mouth and arms and hip and thigh, his breath and the rise of his chest against mine. I’d been dreading tonight— no, don’t think about that. Donnie stroked his tongue over mine and nipped at my lower lip. He held me tight, against anything that might try to knock me down.

  I whispered, “I love you.” I’d probably said it a hundred times, but not since that night. I meant it now in a different way than before. This wasn’t my magic Donnie, who made my life brilliant with a high-flying rainbow. This was a stronger, quieter version, one whose arms were my shelter, but whom I wanted to guard and protect and love. “Don’t you dare say it’s too soon.”

  “I can’t. It’s not too soon for me, either.” He kissed me again, his arms so tight around me I could hardly breathe, and my new tattoo ached.

  He hadn’t said the words, but then for my hundred, I could count the times he’d said it back on the fingers of one hand. Donnie didn’t say love, but he lived it. And kissed it. I melted into his hold, and opened my lips wider. Somehow we ended up with my face in his neck and his cheek on my hair, swaying, almost slow dancing without music. My heart hurt so good. I sang off-key “kissing Saaaanta Claus.”

  Donnie spun us and dipped me over his thigh, low enough I’d fall if he let go. His other hand closed on my groin. “What did we agree on?”

  “Uncle, uncle, let me up.”

  “No more bad carols?”

  “No more.”

  He pulled me upright and we stepped apart, grinning.

  “Five minutes, boys!” Dad called from the kitchen.

  “Okay!” I lowered my voice. “Sleep in my room tonight? That’s all I want for Christmas.”

  “I’m a kinda restless sleeper these days. And you can’t grab at me.”

  My smile faded. “We don’t have to.”

  “I want to, I really do, just… be aware, okay?”

  I brushed the hair back from his cheek. “Whatever you need.”

  “Oh, I need. And after that, I’ll stay. But if I wake you up at two a.m., it’ll be your fault.”

  “Deal. Maybe we’ll see Santa.”

  “How old are you again?”

  “More than old enough.” I slid my hand down over his chest and rubbed his groin, feeling him half-hard under his jeans.

  “Mm.” His eyes drooped to half-mast, and he parted his lips.

  Dad called us to set the table before I could take advantage of his receptiveness. I took advantage later, though.

  Chapter 13

  Donnie

  A hand touched my thigh. I jolted out of a decent sleep and rolled off the bed to the floor, tucking my legs under me to lunge fast. Then stared up over the edge of the bed into Adam’s wide eyes.

  “Um, sorry?”

  “Nah. My bad.” I stood and stretched to cover the way my heart was pounding. An excellent twinge in my ass reminded me of how I
’d gotten worn out enough to sleep well, and my tension backed off a notch. Adam lay back on the pillow. His hair was still too short to get mussed, but he had a pillow crease on one cheek and his eyes looked drowsy.

  “You look all cozy there. Make space?”

  He smiled and slid over, flipping up the sheet.

  I eased back in beside him and gave him a closed-lips kiss. “Morning.”

  “Merry Christmas.”

  “Yeah. Oh, yeah.” I kissed him again, just because. “Merry Christmas.”

  He ran his hand over my ribs and down my side. “We could try to fix some of that tension you’ve got going.”

  Before I could give him a very happy yes, to match my very happy dick, his father called from somewhere downstairs, “Adam? Donnie? You boys getting up? Tommy and Nate will be here in twenty minutes.”

  “Got it, Dad,” Adam yelled. “Merry Christmas!”

  I wiggled a finger in my ear. “I think I lost an eardrum.”

  “Bitch, bitch.” Adam put his hand back on my ribs. “I can blow you in a lot less than twenty minutes.”

  “Tempting.” But my dick had kind of wilted at the sound of Mr. L’s voice. I stripped the covers off us and slid out. “We should shower, and you should wash that tattoo. Lukewarm water. Pat it dry and use ointment.” He was scabbing up a bit, and I wasn’t totally sure we hadn’t jizzed on it this time.

  “I heard the lecture, same as you.” He got up too, grabbing my wrist to look at my tat. I held still and let him. I didn’t mind him seeing this one, even if he could remember where Harry’s initials fit into the rest. The little green caterpillar hunched itself along hopefully. I’m almost out. The thought came unbidden, and it didn’t make a lot of sense. I was seven months out and never going back.

  Adam smoothed my wrist with his thumb, below the open cage. “Maggie was great. I hope you’ll finish the tattoo someday soon. Hatch that caterpillar.”

  “I’m sure I will.” I took back my arm and gave him a little push. “You get the bathroom first. Make it quick.”

  “Jawohl.” He gave me a dumb salute, and I smacked his ass.

  He grabbed me fast and hard enough to remind me we were a lot more equal in size now. We kissed slow and hot and wet and to hell with morning breath and even spunk breath. This was Adam. I gave it my best. When he let go, I was halfway on board with the idea of that blow job, but we could hear the clunk of something downstairs, and Willow barking in the yard.

  He said, “Showers.”

  “Right.”

  By the time I was done with my shower, trying to decide what was clean and not too ratty to wear for Christmas, I could hear a kid’s voice downstairs. Adam was already in khakis and a nice sweater, fiddling with the crap on the spare room desk while he waited for me. “Go on down,” I told him. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  I wondered if he saw I was nervous, going down to be with his family after spending the night in his bed. Either way, he nodded and headed off.

  I settled on some dark jeans and my one decent shirt, rolling up the sleeves to show my tattoo. I wanted people to see it now. I stalled by combing my hair again, but eventually went down the stairs in sock feet. No one heard me, so I was able to stand at the doorway of the family room and watch Adam squatting beside his little nephew, pointing out the ornaments on the tree.

  The kid had a hand on Adam’s shoulder, and they looked comfortable together. I bet Adam was a cool uncle. I liked kids. I’d been expected to take care of the younger ones when I was in the foster home, but it’d never been a good idea to get attached. They came and went without warning. I liked the way everything this kid said made Adam smile, like he was a proud father.

  Nate’s kid. I wondered how he’d feel about me hanging around his boy. As if the thought conjured him, Nate said behind me, “Are you going in?”

  I whirled and covered it with a sweeping bow. “After you.”

  Adam’s dad looked up at us. “Donnie, could you get Willow out of the bathroom? I put her in there while people were arriving. Put a leash on her when you bring her. We don’t know how she is with kids.”

  “Got it.” I actually didn’t mind a minute to get my act together. Willow rolled over when I opened the door, but her ears were up and her tail thump was louder. I petted her, then messed with her collar. She was the first dog I’d ever had. I rubbed her chest, and scratched her ears, murmuring a bit of nonsense about what a good girl she was, how much better she was doing. She sat up and panted at me. I wished I could hug her hard, but she still didn’t trust me like that. Then I clicked on the leash. “Come on, doggo, gonna celebrate Christmas.”

  She was hesitant, slinking along the wall as I coaxed her into the room, so we hung back by the doorway to watch. There were muffins and coffee on the low table, but my stomach didn’t want anything right now. Adam gave me a thumbs up and smile, from where he was being master of giftiness, but he didn’t come over. That was okay. I was happy to watch him.

  Little Tommy went first with opening gifts. He got what he was hoping for if his excited squeals were any indication. Neither Adam nor his dad had held back from doting on the spawn. After ten minutes, he was surrounded by shredded paper, a variety of trucks, a model horse, and several of the clamshell packages that make strong men weep. Adam said, “I’ll get scissors.”

  As he reached me and Willow in the doorway, he paused and leaned in for a kiss, a real one. Like it was the most natural thing. I guess it was, because I sure didn’t stop him. I glanced over at the Lindbergs. The kid had eyes only for his loot, but Nate’s wife and Mr. L were actually smiling at me. Even Nate looked more thoughtful than mad or disgusted.

  Adam pulled back. “What was I doing? Oh yeah, scissors.”

  “Hey,” I said. “How about a knife? I happen to have this great one.” I dug in my pocket and handed it to him. “My best thing. Brought me lots of luck.”

  “I don’t know.” He jiggled it. “Got lots of things stuck to it.”

  “Six of them. They’re the best part.” I hoped he could tell what it meant, that in all that time he’d never given up on me.

  “Come on in, Donnie,” Mr. L said. “Bring Willow.”

  At the sound of his voice, she tugged eagerly on her leash to go to him. I held her close by me as she scurried over, her tail wagging. Adam knelt to work on a plastic container beside the tree.

  “Doggie?” the kid said. “Look, Mom, it’s a doggie. Can I pet him?” He scrambled up, hand outstretched.

  I knelt by Willow and gently wrapped the leash around her muzzle, holding her head close. “Her,” I said. “And yes, but slow and gentle.”

  Mr. L said, “She’s a bit scared. Go real easy and Donnie will let you know if she’s too nervous.”

  Pam moved in front of him, reaching out her own hand. “Thank you for asking first, Tommy. See, here’s how you pet her.” She moved nice and slow, reaching to the side of Willow’s shoulder and not over the top of her head. Willow’s tail was wagging, her ears still up, so I gave her enough room to turn a bit. She seemed pretty calm, as Pam scratched softly on her back. In fact, she looked happy.

  “Doing good, Willow,” Mr. L murmured.

  I kept my voice real soft while I said, “Maybe she was treated good by Mrs. Shenman. She’s a nice woman.”

  “What do you think? Can Tommy pet her?”

  “Should be okay. I’ve got her.” I looked past Pam at the kid. “Go super slow, and then pat her just like your mom is doing. Your mom knows what dogs like.”

  Pam smiled at me and guided her son to pet and stroke. He laughed with delight, rubbing her fur different ways. “Go with the fur, smooth, like this,” she said, but Willow’s tail hadn’t stopped wagging the whole time. I wasn’t letting go of her head, but I was getting pretty confident that she’d be okay with kids. A relief, for what I’d planned.

  When the kid was done and back to vrooming his trucks around, Mr. L said, “Adam’s the next youngest. His turn.”

  I’d
forgotten they always went by age. I said, “Can I do one first? Give one, I mean?”

  “Not to Adam? Sure.”

  I lifted Willow’s head and turned her collar around, to show the slightly-smooshed bow I’d tied on it. “Here, Mr. L. She’s for you.”

  He blinked. “You can’t give away your dog.”

  “If she was really my dog, I wouldn’t.” My tongue got tangled, trying to say this right. “I mean I bought her, fair and square. She’s decided she’s yours, though. She tolerates me okay, likes me maybe, but she’s better with you.”

  “You could give her more time.” His eyes looked shiny, reflecting the tree glow.

  “I don’t have to.” I glanced at Adam, then down at Willow, running my hand over her brindle head. She rolled her eyes my way, her tail slowing but not stopped. I’d miss the hell out of her, but I wouldn’t miss the way I still scared her a bit. She leaned closer to Mr. L’s chair. Done deal. I passed him the leash, and he took it. “I have a paper made out upstairs to give you later, so she’s yours. And anyway, I’ll be moving, looking for work. She needs a safe home and a yard and someone she trusts to teach her stuff.” And he needed her, although I didn’t say so.

  “Thank you, Donnie.” Mr. L blinked and hugged Willow’s head against his knee. She relaxed, like she never did with me. “I admit, it would be awfully quiet here without her now. I’ll take good care of her.”

  “I got no doubt about that.” I stood and stepped away, trying to breathe easy and smile. Adam rose and put a hand on my back, rubbing gently.

  “Since our gift order is already mixed up,” Mr. L said. “I have one for you under the tree, Donnie. That green envelope.”

  Pam pulled an envelope out from under the branches, checked it, and handed it to Tommy. “Can you take that to Uncle Donnie?”

  The kid’s loud whisper of “Who?” didn’t change how weirdly good that name made me feel.