Rock Paper Scissors

by Devon Monk

  Apparently, Myra was “no fun” but since she “made a boss Tom and Jerry” the Christmas tree hat had remained silent.

  “They weren’t trying to hide it, not really.” I shifted and Ryder tucked me in a little closer to his chest. He was quiet, relaxed, and looked right at home with his stockinged feet propped up on Myra’s coffee table.

  His bruises were just bruises, and the knock on the head was not a concussion. As accidents went, he had been very, very lucky.

  “They wanted the pictures on the blog for Christmas?” Myra asked.

  “I think that’s what they were going for. This had to have taken some time and more than one person. They set up a whole holiday scene, using a bunch of the other statues on his lot complete with Christmas tree, a menorah, and a kinara and corn. Here.” I leaned forward and Ryder sighed at the loss of contact, his fingers drifting down my back as I pulled my phone off the table.

  I hadn’t gone home to change, since the penguin hunt had taken so long. They’d waited on me for dinner, which was nice of them. Dinner was delicious and perfect because Myra had inherited almost all the cooking genes in our family.

  I leaned back into Ryder. He grunted softly in contentment.

  I scrolled through my photos to the pictures I’d taken of the concrete gathering, held it up for Ryder. He chuckled.

  “They went all out,” he agreed.

  “Lemme see.” Jean made grabby hands, and I relinquished my phone. She made big fake wide eyes in big fake surprise. “Look at that Hogan. All those statues doing all those holiday things. How cute is that? They even remembered Kwanza.”

  “Mmm-hmmm.” He planted a kiss somewhere below the boughs of her hat and then grinned at her over her shoulder. “Kwanza doesn’t get nearly enough representation here in Ordinary.”

  Okay, they were being totally suspicious.

  “Here, Myra. Look at what those awful vandals did.” Jean waggled my phone toward Myra who was giving Jean and Hogan a narrow-eyed glare.

  “Was the lock broken?” Myra asked me even though she wasn’t looking away from Jean.

  I wasn’t looking away from Jean either. “No. Whoever did it had a key to the gate.”Jean had a key to the gate. We all kept keys to the businesses the no-longer-vacationing gods had left behind.

  “Probably just some high school kids finding some other way into the place.” Jean waved, then dropped back against Hogan. She threaded her fingers between his hands where they were clasped on her waist. I studied their fingers. Dark against creamy white. Their knuckles looked a little abraded. Like maybe they’d been moving heavy concrete statues around in the middle of the night.

  “Oh, for real?” I groaned. “Jean, tell me you were not involved in theft, breaking and entering, and trespassing last night.”

  “I plead the Fifth.”

  “Why?” I moaned. “I spent hours looking for that penguin. In the rain. In the cold. On Christmas Eve!”

  She shrugged. “They were already there doing their thing. And, no, I’m not going to rat them out. So we just helped them get it all set up.”

  “We, babe?” Hogan asked. “I guess it’s the Fifth for me too, Reed ladies.”

  I shook my head in disappointment.

  “They were supposed to take pictures and get the penguin home before dark,” Jean said. “Probably the storm got in the way.”

  “I can not believe this. Haven’t you had enough with yard statues? Remember the gnome debacle? Two month ago. Involving zombies?”

  Jean wrinkled her nose at me. “Do not mention the gnome-zombie debacle. Hogan still has Abner’s head on the dash of his car.”

  “Ew,” Myra said.

  Hogan ran his fingers through Jean’s red and green hair. “He won’t be alive again until next October. Why not let him see things around town until then?”

  “Nice,” Ryder said.

  I opened my mouth to get us back on the subject of Jean and Hogan being any part of the penguin kidnapping, but Jean talked right over whatever I was about to say.

  “You know Mrs. Yates loves that penguin being a star, no matter what she says. It makes her feel young and special. All that attention. All those tourists coming by to catch a glimpse of the famous penguin in her yard with the flower beds she likes to fuss over. If someone hadn’t stolen it for a big Christmas photo-op, she would have been disappointed.”

  “Rule breaker,” Ryder noted with a yawn.

  “Settle down, Mr. Warden. I didn’t break any actual contracts.”

  “Theft is illegal,” Myra pointed out.

  “One, I didn’t steal it, I just found the people who did. Two, Are you going to arrest your sister on Christmas Eve for being a part of a community building exercise?”

  From the look on Myra’s face, she was thinking pretty seriously about it.

  “You’ll tell me who did it,” I said. “All the people involved in this little ‘community building exercise’.”

  Jean sighed noisily. “Fine. Yes, boss.”

  “We’re going to talk to them and their parents, if necessary. Make them apologize to Mrs. Yates and pay any damages she asks for. We can’t let something like this slide. That was private property, Jean.”

  She made a rude noise. “I was very stern with them as we were arranging the photo shoot. Told them I disapproved of their shenanigans, but that I’d let it pass this once, because it was Christmas and it was going to make an awesome picture. They really did promise to get the penguin home safely.”

  Ryder’s fingers had shifted so that he could brush the side of my shoulder. I didn’t know if he realized he was petting me, but it felt so good, I didn’t tell him to stop.

  “Please tell me you’re not going to make me call them on Christmas Eve,” Jean said. “Can’t we just put it off a bit?”

  “I think we can address it after the holidays,” I said.

  Jean lit up like a string of lights.

  “Is the picture on the blog yet?” Ryder asked.

  I nudged him. My sister did not need any encouragement.

  Jean grinned. “Wanna see?” She bounded out of Hogan’s arms to find her tablet before any of us could answer.

  “I thought you’d be a better influence on her,” I groused at Hogan.

  He just spread his hands wide and smiled. “Come now, Delaney. I thought you knew me better.”

  The twinkle of wicked mischief in his eyes was irresistible. I chuckled. “At least try to rein in her worst tendencies.”

  “I do,” he said with mock seriousness. “You should have seen the hat she wanted to buy you.”

  Ryder snorted at that, then Jean showed up with the pictures and excitedly read us the blog post.

  I had to admit it, that little penguin wearing a baggy Santa hat that drooped over one eye, surrounded by concrete Buddha, frogs, fairies, elephants, Bigfoot, and an octopus doing yoga, looked pretty darn cute.

  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 y
ou 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 pretty 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.”