Until December

by Reynolds, Aurora Rose

  I watch him closely and can see his mind working. I can tell by his expression and body language that he doesn’t want to talk to me about a tattoo, or about anything at all.

  “It’s okay. Maybe I’ll—”

  “No problem,” he cuts me off before I can get us both out of this awkward situation. “Let’s go to the drawing room.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” April snaps, and my gaze goes to her. I can see she’s still pissed about his text and is getting ready to pick a fight.

  “It’s fine. I’ll be back.” I stand, trying to give her a reassuring look, which she doesn’t catch because she never pulls her eyes off Gareth, even as he turns his back to her to open the door.

  With a deep breath, I follow him into another room, watching him flip on the lights and then the computer. I wrap my arms around my middle and wait, not sure what I’m supposed to do or say.

  “You can sit over here.” He doesn’t look at me; he just motions with his hand to an empty chair cattycorner to his.

  I don’t want to sit. I want to find a bathroom and throw up. My stomach is turning with a mixture of nerves and anxiety as I stare at the side of his face. Lord, he’s still gorgeous, and seeing he’s still mad at me about what happened doesn’t sit well.

  When I don’t move, he turns his head and our eyes lock. “Come sit down.”

  My stomach knots at his rude order, and my mouth opens without my mind telling it to. “Please.”

  “What?”

  “Come sit down, please. Is the polite way to ask someone to sit.”

  “Come sit down, please,” he repeats with his jaw clenched. I move then and take a seat, twisting my hands in my lap. “My aunt said you want a tattoo designed and that it’s detailed. Tell me about it.”

  God, I wish things between us weren’t like they are. I wish I would’ve never snuck out on him. I wish he could understand why I did and forgive me. “I’m sorry,” I blurt, and his head jerks back in surprise. “About what happened… I’m sorry about what happened.”

  “I’m over it.” His jaw ticks. “Now tell me about your tattoo.”

  Obviously, he’s not over it. Actually, I wonder if like me he’s been dwelling on it for days. “You might be over it, but I’m not,” I say quietly. “I hate that you’re mad at me. I wish I could change things, but I can’t. All I can say is I’m sorry for leaving like I did. You were right that it was immature, and—”

  “Stop,” he grounds out, and I snap my mouth shut then bite my bottom lip. What the hell am I doing? “Why did you leave?” At his question, my body jerks and my muscles lock. I can’t possibly tell him why I left. “Tell me.”

  “Why? It doesn’t even matter.” My heart starts to pound in my chest as he stares at me.

  “I think you and I both know it does,” he says softly while his eyes scan my face. “Tell me.” Why did I open my mouth? “Tell me,” he repeats, and I pull in a breath, figuring it doesn’t matter if he knows now.

  “My sister said she wanted you,” I admit, dropping my eyes from his to look at my hands still clasped in my lap. “She doesn’t. She just—”

  “I don’t care about that. I care about why you snuck out of my bed without a word.”

  “Can we not do this?” I question, peeking at him through my lashes. My heart is not just pounding against my rib cage anymore; it’s now thundering away while embarrassment creeps up my chest and neck, flooding my cheeks making them hot.

  “I think you owe me some kind of explanation, since every fucking day for the last week I’ve woken up with you on my mind, a hard-on I can’t seem to get rid of, and your scent still clinging to my bed, even though I’ve washed my sheets three fucking times since you were in it.”

  Is he serious? I lift my head to search his gaze.

  “Why did you sneak out?”

  God, I don’t want to tell him, but I need to. I need to get this over with so I can move on. So we can move on. “When my sisters and I were younger, we had a rule,” I start, and he cuts me off.

  “Fuck me, let me guess.” He shakes his head. “If one of you was interested in a guy, none of you could approach him.”

  “Basically,” I agree. I know if I caught a glimpse of myself right now, my chest and face would be bright red.

  “You came home with me,” he states.

  “I know.”

  “So you coming home with me was about what? About you rebelling against your sister?”

  “No!” I almost shout. No way do I want him to think I went home with him just because of April.

  “Then why?”

  “When I first saw you—” I stop and press my lips together, and then close my eyes and finish. “—there was something about you, and when April said she wanted you, I got mad. I was mad that she saw you first. Mad that I was going to miss out on something, even if I didn’t know what that something was.”My throat gets tight.

  “You snuck out.”

  “I know.”

  “Look at me, babe,” he orders, and my eyes open. “I should not have said what I said to you over text.” My lips part at his admission. “I’ve wanted to call you every fucking day to apologize. I didn’t, but I should have. If you can forgive me for that, I can forgive you for what happened.”

  “You were right to be mad. I would have been too,” I say softly, and his eyes flash with some kind of emotion that is there and gone way too quickly for me to read. “But I am really sorry.”

  “It’s all good.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, babe.” He leans back. “Now, tell me about your tattoo.”

  I study him for a moment, trying to understand why I still feel this heavy weight in my stomach, the one that’s been there since I read his text. It should be gone now that we talked and after he accepted my apology, but it isn’t.

  Figuring the best course of action is to get this over with so we can both go our separate ways, I explain the tattoo then sit back and watch him create magic with a pencil. Forty minutes later, we say goodbye, and a part of me knows it will be the last time I see him. That hurts more than it should, but as I lie on the tattoo table with Blossom embedding my tattoo into my skin, I know that a part of him will always be with me.

  “Now that you’re officially a badass, let’s go get a drink,” April says with a grin while grabbing my hand and leading me toward her car.

  I do kinda feel like a badass. I now have a tattoo, a fricking beautiful tattoo I know I’ll never regret getting, and not just because Gareth designed it, but because it’s beautiful and exactly what I always wanted. “Where are we going?”

  April stops as soon as the question leaves my mouth, and her head swings down toward me. “What?”

  “What?” I repeat, frowning at her.

  “You want to go get a drink?”

  “Isn’t that what you normally do after you get a tattoo?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay... so like I said, where are we going?”

  She studies me for a moment, and then her lips tip up into a smile and she mumbles, “Apparently to the bar.”

  Beeping the car alarm, she lets go of my hand and I get in, feeling a slight twinge of pain hit my side as I twist to slide into the low seat. Once I’m settled and we’re buckled in, she starts the engine. Until that moment, I never understood the appeal of the loud rumble of her car, but apparently being a newborn badass, I’m able to appreciate it now. And I appreciate it more when she switches the song playing from the speakers from one I don’t know to “Welcome to the Jungle,” turning the volume all the way up and rolling down the windows. Even though it’s cold out, I relish the moment, and knowing the lyrics, I sing along at the top of my lungs.

  We pull into the parking lot for one of the local bars, and April waits until the song comes to an end before she rolls up the windows and shuts down the engine. The smile on my face is huge as I get out, slamming my door. When we meet at the hood, she tosses her arm around my shoulders th
en leads me inside.

  The place is packed. There are a few college kids, but most of the people are our age or older. We go right to the bar, and as soon as we reach the edge, April lets me go and leans over the top of the counter. I look around; the music and chatter is deafening, but every person seems to be smiling and enjoying their night out. Before I even have a chance to glance back at my sister, she’s shoving a glass into my hand. I take it then follow her across the room to a table that has free chairs but is covered with beer bottles and empty glasses.

  Suddenly feeling out of place, I take a sip from my drink and start to cough. It’s vodka, and if I’m not wrong, nothing else besides ice. “Vodka?”

  “You’re a badass, and badasses drink vodka straight.” She grins, finishing her drink in one gulp.

  “Screw it.” I down the rest of the drink in one large gulp then slam it on the table.

  “Total badass.” My sister grins, and I laugh.

  Four

  Gareth

  “I TALKED TO your aunt last night,” Mom says casually as she wipes down the counters in my kitchen like I haven’t done it in ages, when I just did it this morning after cooking the boys breakfast.

  “And?”

  “She mentioned a girl who came in last night to get a tattoo. Who was she?”

  “No one.”

  “Seriously, Gareth?” She shakes her head, looking frustrated, and I glance over my shoulder at my sons to make sure they’re still preoccupied with the video game they’re playing. I should have planned for this. I knew when my aunt witnessed my reaction to seeing December again that she would be all too happy to tell my mom about that interaction and that my mom would be curious.

  “Mom.” I sigh.

  “Honey, you haven’t dated since—”

  “Don’t. Do not bring her up,” I growl. I don’t even like thinking that woman’s name, let alone hearing it. “I have two boys to raise and two jobs. I don’t exactly have a lot of free time for dating anyone.”

  “Blossom said she’s really pretty and sweet. She also said you seemed a little annoyed seeing her but could tell there was something between you two.”

  Fuck, my aunt is observant, and she has a big mouth. I jerk my fingers through my hair. If I’m honest, I was completely thrown off guard when I saw December, and struck stupid by just how beautiful she looked without even trying.

  “So who is she?” Mom questions again quietly this time.

  Who is she?

  The woman who’s taken over my every thought, the woman who rocked my world with an apology she didn’t really owe me but still gave me anyway, in which she sounded sincere and like she really hoped I got that she regretted leaving. The woman who would probably want nothing to do with me if she knew I had two boys I’m raising on my own, and a crazy ex who shows up out of the blue from time to time just to fuck with me and my kids.

  “So?”

  I look at my mom, the woman who gave birth to me, the woman who raised me and my sisters on her own, doing it and never once complaining. Just like she’s never complained when I’ve needed her to help with her grandsons. I wish I could give her something, something to make her stop worrying about me, but I can’t. Even if I want to be the asshole who storms into December’s life and forces her to take a chance on me.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I tell her, and her eyes narrow. “She’s a nice woman, but she’s not for me.” Why the fuck does my chest suddenly hurt at that bit of self-truth?

  Mom studies me for a moment then her eyes fill with a disappointed light. “All right, honey.”

  Thank fuck. I know my mom can be persistent when she gets something in her head, and if she thinks for one second I’m missing out on something, she will make it her mission to get me what she thinks I need.

  “You staying for dinner?” I ask, needing to change the subject.

  “It depends. What are you making?”

  “The boys want lasagna, so I picked up the stuff yesterday.”

  “Are you making your cheesy garlic bread?”

  “What do you think?” I raise one brow.

  She grins. “Right. Then I’m definitely staying.”

  I grin back before looking toward the couch, where both Max and Mitchell are sprawled out. “Boys, I’m gonna start dinner soon and Grandma is staying.” I get a “Cool” and a “Right on” before I continue. “I hope you both got your homework done, because it’s your turn to do dishes and it’s Yahtzee night.” I listen to both of them groan and turn off the game along with the TV before heading for their rooms without a word. When I look back at my mom, she’s got an odd look on her face. “What?”

  “Nothing.” She shakes her head, still watching me closely.

  “What?” I repeat, curious now.

  “You,” she whispers.

  “What about me?”

  “You’re an amazing dad. Those boys are lucky.”

  My throat gets tight, but I swallow through it. “I learned from the best.”

  “I might have had a hand in you becoming the type of parent you are, but the hardworking, loyal, loving, and protective man you’ve grown into is all you. You’re stronger and more determined than anyone I know. Hell, most people given the hand you were dealt as a kid then as an adult would have given up, but not you. You keep going, keep fighting to have better and do better, for you and your boys.”

  The tightness in my throat grows and my chest constricts, which means I wheeze out, holding her stare. “You’re the best mom a kid could ask for, and regardless of what you think, I’m the man I am today because you showed me how to be everything that is good.”

  “Oh, God, I’m gonna cry.” She starts to sniffle and I laugh. “It’s not funny.” She swipes her cheeks, glaring at me.

  I move off the stool I’m sitting on and go around the edge of the counter. “Come here, Mom.” I hold open my arms and she gives me one last annoyed look before wrapping her arms around me. “I love you.”

  “To the moon and beyond, baby boy,” she whispers before tightening her hold. We stay like that until we hear one of the boys’ doors open and shut then she looks up at me, giving me a shaky smile and letting me go. “I’m just gonna fix my mascara.”

  I lift my chin and she smiles then disappears right as Mitchell comes around the corner.

  “Dad, I can’t find my backpack.”

  “Did you check your room?”

  “Yeah it’s not there.”

  “You sure? I know you think you know where everything is in that mess, but I guarantee you don’t.”

  He smiles crookedly. “I looked through everything.”

  “Did you leave it in the truck?”

  “Maybe.” He shrugs.

  “You know where the keys are. Go on out and check.”

  Without a word, he takes off. I hear the rattling of my keys then the sound of the door opening and closing. Not even two minutes later, he comes back in, shouting, “Found it.”

  “Good,” I reply, and then I listen to him go into his room and close the door.

  Mom comes back when I’m already at the stove cooking the ground beef for the sauce, and I look at her when she gets close.

  “I’m just going to say one more thing.”

  I let out a frustrated breath. “Mom—”

  “No, you need to hear this.” I watch her head jerk from side to side. “If you think for one minute you’re not good enough for that girl, you’re wrong. You deserve everything, honey, everything good in life. And if this girl doesn’t see the amazing man you are, she’s not worth your time.” She looks away then continues. “Now, I’m gonna go check on the boys to make sure they don’t need help.”

  She knows they don’t need help; if they did, they’d ask for it. She just wants to leave me to think about what she said. And it works, because once again December is at the forefront of my thoughts as I make dinner for my mom and boys, and still long after I get to bed.

  Which means I don’t fall asleep until I lose
myself with my hand wrapped around my cock, thinking of December.

  _______________

  “I don’t know why we have to go to some fancy dinner. It’s not like Aunt Selma or Sejla even care if we’re there,” Max grumbles from the back seat as I pull into one of the empty parking spaces at the restaurant.

  “You think they don’t care, but they do. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have asked us to come,” Mitchell snaps from the passenger seat at his brother in the back, sounding annoyed. It’s something that’s becoming more frequent whenever he deals with his little brother.

  “I know they care about us, but they never care about these events. They don’t even wanna go most of the time, so I don’t see why we have to.”

  He’s not wrong. My twin sisters, who are both in banking, couldn’t care less about these events, but each and every time they’re given something in their honor, they invite us. They are considered rock stars in the banking world, and the company they work for appreciates the amount of clients they’re able to secure, and also the big names attached to them and only them, from country singers to corporate clients. People trust them, because they are trustworthy and honest. They never let their clients make financial decisions without knowing exactly what they will be getting into, even if that means they have to hold off on a loan until they’re more financially secure.

  “Hold on, you two,” I say, hearing both boys’ seat belts unlatch as I’m shutting down the engine. Once I have my belt unhooked, I turn in my seat to look at Max in the back. “How would you feel if we didn’t show up to one of the dinners the baseball team holds for you, your teammates, and their parents every year?” At my question, his lips press together and his eyes fill with understanding. “You’d be disappointed, even if you didn’t really want to be there. Am I right?”

  “Yeah,” he mutters then looks at his brother, and his eyes narrow.

  I glance to Mitchell and see he’s smirking. His eyes come to me, and the smirk slowly slides away as I shake my head. “Your brother is younger than you. He’s still learning. If I remember correctly, when you were his age, you had the same outlook on life that he does now. It’s your job as his big brother to show patience and to lead him down the right path. What you don’t do is act smug when you’re right about something.”