Twisted Christmas

by Sara Cate

  When I tried convincing Noah to get in my car to take him home, he’d fought me. Insisted I join them for fun even though he’d called to ask me to bring him home, which he either didn’t remember or changed his mind about. The events that happened after his protest are cemented into my mind for life.

  “You need to come with me,” I tell Noah, yanking on his arm. “Mom is going to lose it if she sees photos of you plastered all over social media tomorrow.”

  “Mom needs to lighten up,” he slurs.

  While I agree, I hide the small smile that wants to form from his statement and grab ahold of his shirt sleeve. “C’mon. I’ll stop and buy you something from a drive thru to sober up. You’ve got an interview in the morning, remember?”

  He jerked his arm back and shoves my hand away. I lose my balance on the curb and fall backward into the street.

  There are headlights.

  A loud horn blaring.

  Then…impact.

  I’ll always remember the pain that radiated throughout my body once the car struck me—how my leg bent at an unnatural angle and my piercing scream echoed down the street. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think, as Noah and a few of his buddies circled around me. The driver had gotten out and called 911 while everyone else in my brother’s group ran like a bunch of pussies.

  Noah sobered up quickly when the sirens came and stared silently at me the entire way to the hospital in the ambulance. Police questioned him after paramedics had rushed me into the emergency room, then he’d called our parents.

  But my brother didn’t stay.

  Not only had his actions shattered my leg in four places that required multiple extensive surgeries to fix, but he didn’t even wait to make sure I was okay before bailing.

  The next morning, he’d skipped his interview and was seen photographed with the same people he was with the night before. Different clothes. Same drunken choices. Dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. Twitchy. Mom started freaking out in my hospital room. Not for me. For Noah because she thought he was on something when she saw the images featured on TMZ and every other gossip outlet that could get their hands on them.

  My leg still aches to this day. It’s stiff in the morning and sore at night. If I don’t elevate it with ice or heat at least once a week then I’m fucked. Even though the doctors made it clear I wouldn’t be able to play professionally again, I held onto hope through each surgery and physical therapy session. It wasn’t until a year and a half later when I got the official news.

  I was done.

  The day I realized my fate, I stared at my cell phone debating on who to call. I wanted to tell Noah about what he’d done. But I didn’t do that because I figured he wouldn’t give a shit even if he did pick up when he saw my number across his screen. Why would he care when he couldn’t even visit me more often after what he’d caused?

  But Adelaide did.

  So, I called her first.

  Told her what I couldn’t even tell my own brother. My parents. She listened to me, then sat in silence with me over the phone for twenty minutes before saying how sorry she was.

  It wasn’t until a week later that I finally told Mom and Dad the news. Addy was there, so was Noah. She gave me a reassuring smile that grounded me for the reactions I was dreading from the others.

  Truth is, Adelaide Peters still grounds me.

  Which is why I didn’t want to fuck up anything for her even if I threatened as much. The photos of us were bought out by me for a pretty penny so they weren’t spread around the internet. One call to my former agent and the mess I’d created was cleaned up. For her. Not for me.

  Definitely not for Noah.

  It wasn’t until seeing Mom walking toward the bedroom door Addy had just left at the party that I decided enough was enough.

  I took the plate of food from her, opened the door, and slipped inside for a one-on-one that should’ve happened a long damn time ago.

  And that’s when I heard it.

  The crying.

  When I walked into the bathroom, I saw my brother sitting on the bench in the massive shower with his face in his hands and his shoulders shaking as water poured down on him.

  It was the first time in a long time that I looked at my sibling and saw someone human.

  Somebody broken.

  That’s when I made my choice. I was done feeling this way. I walked over, turned off the water, and grabbed a towel for him. We said nothing to each other as he dried off and met me in the bedroom where I waited with his food.

  He’d looked at me with red eyes.

  Looked at my offering.

  And said, “I’m sorry, Daire. I keep fucking up.”

  The words spoken so brokenly were the reason I nodded my head, passed him the plate, and said, “I know. Eat this and finish that water. You and I have some shit to clear up before I leave.”

  By the end of the night, I’d walked out my parent’s penthouse with closure, an address, and a mission.

  Which is how I find myself staring at the white door in front of me debating on whether it’s a good idea to knock or not.

  But I do.

  Because I’m not here to be a chickenshit like I have since the day I put distance between me and the girl who cracks the door open. Her fiery hair is pulled up in a messy bun that greets me as I offer her a smile and lean against the doorjamb. “We have unfinished business,” I tell Addy as she stands in cute ass Christmas pajamas. She gapes at me, only making me smile wider at her silence. “If you’ll let me inside.”

  Chapter 11

  Adelaide

  * * *

  I’m hyperaware of the fact I’m wearing cotton pajama shorts that barely cover my ass and a thin white shirt that says Santa’s Ho across the front in red cursive lettering. All it takes is his eyes roaming over me for my nipples to harder like the traitors they are, and there’s no hiding them from his lingering gaze.

  Shifting on my feet, I grip the door. “Are you lost or something?”

  His grin kicks up higher. “Or something.” He looks past my shoulder into the apartment behind me where A Christmas Story is playing in the background. “My brother gave me your address.”

  I gape. “Excuse me?”

  “Noah. My little brother. Your best friend and not boyfriend.” His eye twitches at that revelation like he’s still having problems accepting it. “After you left I decided to rip off the Band-Aid. We talked for a while. Didn’t even raise my voice…much. I think our parents were eavesdropping outside the door.”

  I wouldn’t put it past their mother to do that. “Does this mean you two are okay now?”

  I can’t imagine why else Noah would have given Daire my address. He’s hurt and tends to hold grudges longer than a day.

  “Can I come in?” the oldest Scott brother asks, gesturing toward my apartment. “I smell cookies, and I think the best part of the movie is about to happen. Not often you get to laugh over a kid getting his tongue frozen to a pole without being considered an asshole for it. Believe me. Been there with one of my hockey players.”

  “You like this movie?” He knows Christmas is my favorite holiday like I know his is Halloween. He used to do anything he could to scare the crap out of me and Noah whenever he could during spooky season. It’s not like he’s a Scrooge this time of year, but he’s never stuck around whenever Noah and I would put something classic on to watch whenever he was visiting his family during the holiday season.

  “It’s my favorite,” he admits.

  I find myself stepping aside and watching him enter my personal space. Noah is the only one who’s ever been over. I like to keep my life outside of work as private as possible, especially because my apartment is small compared to most of the other people I know. The furniture isn’t very expensive and there’s a lot more clutter than what I should keep around.

  Dairen studies the space as I close and lock the door behind him, crossing my arms over my chest and feeling nervous as he examines the pictures hanging on the w
all. Most of them are me and Grandma Rose, but I’ve got some of my mom and I on various family vacations to beaches and amusement parks from when I was younger. And, of course, there’s a handful of images featuring Noah and I from the first year we met to present day. My apartment is a timeline of the most important memories I hold onto, and Daire seems to recognize that.

  When his eyes swing around the open layout of my living room, dining room, and kitchen before turning back to me, there’s an arch to his brows. “This isn’t what I expected.”

  I nibble my lip. “That’s because you assume everyone associated with your brother likes the same showy, expensive things that he does. I’ve always preferred a more casual style.”

  His eyes trail to the writing on my shirt before smirking. “I can see that. What’s the job description for being Santa’s ho exactly? Because I know what you can do with those lips, and—”

  My cheeks blast with heat as I cross my arms over the words sprawled across my chest. “It’s just a silly shirt I bought online that made me laugh.”

  He chuckles. “I’m toying with you.”

  I loosen a sigh. “What are you doing here anyway? I’m glad you and Noah talked, but I don’t think there’s anything left to say between u—”

  “You were right,” he cuts me off. One of his hands goes to his pockets. “About Noah. About me. Him and I are a lot more alike than I like to admit. We’re stubborn and don’t like to admit when we’re being idiots.”

  I make no attempt to disagree.

  Daire walks over to the couch and sits, pulling his pantleg up to reveal an array of battered scars I hadn’t seen since they were fresh. My mind was otherwise occupied on other parts of him when we’d been naked together.

  Walking over, I hesitantly sit beside him and stare at the healed wounds.

  “No matter what, it’ll be his fault why I have these. I’ve got a steel rod in my leg, had a knee replacement, and four other surgeries from the accident to give me a shot at keeping my leg instead of having it amputated.”

  My eyes widen. “That’s…wow.”

  He hums. “Yeah. Wow.” Lowering his jeans back into place, he leans back on the couch and lifts an arm over the back cushion to rest it there. “I don’t mind where I’m at now. Took a while to see that. I’ll always miss playing and wondering what my life would be like if I hadn’t gotten hurt, but it gets me nowhere to live in the past.”

  I nod in agreement, knowing from firsthand experience how draining it can be to hold onto things you can’t change.

  Daire drags his tongue across his lips as he gives me a once over. “Look, I don’t like how we left things at the hotel. I used you to get back at Noah and it was fucked up, and you had your reasons to use me. And while I don’t regret it, I have the decency to feel a little bad that I put you in the position to feel like shit about something that you shouldn’t feel that way about. Especially when you didn’t trust me enough to tell me you were a virgin. How badly did I really hurt you?”

  “I’m fine, Daire. It isn’t like we only did it that once unless the rest of that night was a dream. And let’s be honest, if it wasn’t you, it would have been somebody else. But it isn’t like anybody would has gone as far as you did. I’ve always turned them away, remember? It would hurt no matter who I decided to share my first time with.”

  “But it shouldn’t have to.”

  I give him a doubtful look.

  “You asked me why I came,” he says, shifting his body toward me. “You were the first person I told when I realized I had to say goodbye to the NHL. You were the first girl who listened to me when I needed to vent and the first to stick with me in silence when I couldn’t find the words to express how I was taking it. I came here to thank you for helping me settle shit with Noah. To…” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Him and I are never going to be best friends, not like you two. But we’re a lot better than we have been since the day I was taken to the hospital. That counts for something.”

  “You don’t owe me anything for that.”

  His eyebrows go up. “I beg to differ.”

  My lips press together.

  Daire’s long fingers reach out to brush hair out of my face, grazing my cheekbones with a small smile. “I was your first kiss. I took your virginity. I’m wondering what other first you’ll be willing to share with me.”

  “Are you talking about…uh…”

  He chuckles, clearly knowing where my mind is. “That too. But I’m talking about more. I want to be your first real boyfriend because I know you haven’t had one before. I want to be the first guy to take you on a proper date. I want you to come and watch me coach my high school hockey team. I want…a lot from you, Adelaide. More firsts.”

  All I can do is stare at him. He wants all of that with me?

  His smile is soft. “I want you to give me a shot. I know it’s not going to be easy because we live two different lives, but we can make it work. We can at least try. If the sex we already had is any indication, we’ve got the chemistry already. Let’s do something with it.”

  I’m a little breathless when I study him to figure out if he’s being serious. When I see the growing bulge in his jeans that I stare a little too long at, I know he definitely wants something from me. “Does Noah know you’re here to proposition me?”

  He snickers. “I may have said I wanted to see you and apologize for everything. He didn’t need to know the rest.”

  We’re quiet for a moment.

  Until I point out the obvious. “You live hours away from here. This seems…”

  “Perfect.”

  All I do is stare.

  “You’re going to be busy with work, so am I. We meet up when we can on the weekends or whenever. We can call. Video chat. Whatever. That gives us space to live our own lives without disruption. I’ll come here. You can come to my place. It’s not a bad train ride. I think you’d like my house. It’s quiet there. The neighbors aren’t that close, which means you can scream as loud as you want while I’m fucking you.”

  I slap my hand over his mouth, laughing at the mischievous glint in his eyes.

  He leans forward, peeling my hand away, and brushes his lips along my jaw, then slowly down my neck until his tongue swipes along the skin. When I arch to give him more access, he asks, “What do you say? Date me, Addy?”

  My fingers grip his shoulders, squeezing when his teeth nip above my pulse before moving to the sensitive spot just under my ear. “I-I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

  “That’s not a no.”

  I close my eyes and relish in the feel of his lips on my skin as he convinces me with heated, peppered kisses. He’s meticulous. Methodical.

  It’s impossible to tell him no.

  Not when I’ve dreamed of him giving me this opportunity.

  “Yes.”

  He groans and pulls away, instantly weaving his fingers in my hair and pulling me forward until he captures my lips with a kiss. It’s heated and hungry and demanding and hot as he pries my lips open and tastes the sugar cookies I’d been munching on before he arrived.

  Between the kissing and fondling, I wind up straddling Daire’s lap with his hands sliding underneath my shirt until it’s peeled off. The second my bare breasts are exposed to the cool air, my nipples pebble into hard buds, and the man beneath me grows harder. He wastes no time taking one of them into his mouth and sucking, flicking, and toying with the other until I begin grinding down on him to gain friction where I’m growing wet.

  He encourages me, guiding my movements as his teeth nip at my breasts before trailing back up my neck and jaw until we’re kissing again.

  The ache is back, settled deep in my core.

  For him.

  For the person who made me bleed.

  Wanting him naked, I tug on his shirt until he helps me take it off him, then undo the button of his jeans and smile at the groan when the hiss of his zipper frees the bulge trapped behind it. His hands go to the waistband of my shor
ts, sliding in until his palms cup my bare cheeks to give them a squeeze.

  Pulling me into him to feel the hardness of his cock, he gives me a sultry grin. “I bet if I moved my fingers an inch I’d feel you dripping for me like you were in my hotel room.”

  I swallow my words, fighting off the blush that wants to form in the apples of my cheeks. My thighs tighten around his as I squirm when he tests his theory, his fingertips grazing the seam of my lips to reveal just how turned on I am.

  His eyes flare. “I bet you’d come by grinding on my lap while I finger you just like this, wouldn’t you?”

  His words all but make me purr as I lean forward and kiss him, urging his fingers to move until his statement becomes more than an empty promise.

  I whisper, “Please,” against his lips, which fuels whatever restraint he has left that makes him hesitate. One of his fingers circles my entrance, playing with the fluids caused by his presence—his hands on my body, his lips on my skin, his scent engulfing us. The second his finger enters me I bite down on his bottom lip and cause his hips to surge up until his erection is pressing against me.

  I use it to my advantage, rubbing against him until my clit gets the friction it needs from the seam of my shorts as Daire thrusts his finger in and out of me before carefully adding a second. Every time he enters and hooks his digits, I get closer and closer to breaking apart.

  And when I do, my head tips back giving him access to bite down on my throat until I’m positive a mark will be left behind like the ones left on my boobs from the first time we were together.

  In a matter of seconds, he’s withdrawing his fingers, peeling off my bottoms, and helping me take his off his jeans and green Christmas themed briefs. The same ones with trees on them that I bought him as a joke two years ago.

  When there’s nothing between us, I openly gawk at his hard length jutting out and twitching the second I wrap my hand around his base.

  “Fuck, baby.” His head drops back onto the couch cushion as I pump him slowly. “Grip it tighter. Yeah, like that. Don’t be afraid, you won’t hurt me. Fu—” His words cut off with another groan as I find a rhythm and watch as the hot shaft in my hand grow and jerk and twitch.