Season's Greetings : Christmas Box Set

by Shyla Colt

  “She’s right,” the older woman from earlier says. “I have a tin of cookie and two pumpkin pies.”

  “I have fried chicken.” A full-figured man with long, chestnut-colored hair holds up a brown paper bag.

  “I have a potato salad.”

  People chime in, and the list continues to grow. Her husband squeezes her shoulder and kisses her cheek. Their love is palatable. His expression says for him, she hangs the moon. I want that one day, a family and love that’s more actions than words.

  “We can bring you guys a table from the back,” one of the lingering security guards says.

  “That would be wonderful. I’m Tina, by the way,” the woman who suggested the party says, taking charge of the hodgepodge potluck.

  People begin to talk to each other as they gather their things. The table appears, and a white tablecloth is brought to cover it. Mini water bottles are set up courtesy of the airline, along with tiny packs of pretzels. Little by little, the table begins to come together. I place my fruit and granola bars onto the table. It’s shaping up to be a decent haul considering this is all so last minute.

  I snap a photo of the spread and send it to Rose.

  Delta: Making lemons out of lemonade.

  Rose: I’m glad you sent this to me. I’ve been worried about you sitting there sad and lonely.

  Delta: Thanks for the faith in my social skills.

  She sends a laughing emoji. I respond with an eye-rolling emoji. Amused, I cross my legs and rest my hands on my arms, focusing on the Christmas music playing over the speakers. With the wreaths hung in the rafters and Christmas lights around the windows, I can almost see it as a cozy space.

  “Alright, guys. The table’s ready. Everyone come and line up,” Tina calls.

  SAM

  My stomach rumbles as I watch everyone mingle by the table. I didn’t have anything to contribute, so it feels wrong to join them. Delta looks at me from her seat.

  “Are you hungry, Sam?” She moves to the edge of her seat and leans in closer to me.

  “Yes.”

  She tilts her head to the side. “Do you want to go up there with me?”

  “No.”

  She frowns and huffs. “Okay.” Her lips thin out.

  She’s upset?

  “Do you want me to bring you something back then?”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because you need to eat,” she says slowly.

  “I don’t have anything to add to the table.”

  “That’s okay.” She smiles, and my stomach flips. “There are a lot of people who didn’t. Not everyone travels with food.”

  I consider her words. “Okay.”

  Her grin widens. I like this look on her. She’s pleased by something I did, and it lights her up like some sort of angel. I wonder what else I could do to bring her happiness. “Do you have any allergies or extreme dislikes I should know about?”

  “No.”

  “I know. Let’s exchange numbers. I‘ll take a picture. Then you can text me what you’d like. Will that work?”

  I like the way she checks in with me.

  “Yes.”

  She holds her hand out for my phone. I hand it to her, confused as I try to figure her out. She’s not acting the way I’ve come to expect people to. There’s no reason for her to be this nice. Is it because I kept her safe earlier? Would it be rude to ask? I go through the mental checklist I’ve devised to help me decipher the right thing to do in different situations. I decide to keep my thoughts to myself. For some strange reason, I want her to like me. I want to be special to her.

  “Okay, I’ll be right back.” Rising with a bounce in her step, she walks away. She’s a burst of sunshine in the darkness.

  I watch her speaking with others and gracing them with her beautiful smile. I can’t help but notice it doesn’t look like the one she gave me. My heart rejoices at this. My phone vibrates, and I glance down. We go back and forth until she’s chosen potato salad, chicken, and cornbread. The meal comes with her company beside me, which is more than I expected to have this Christmas Eve. Unlike most, her presence doesn’t drain me, even with the conversation she makes.

  “So. You like Star Trek?” she asks.

  My heart lightens as she brings up one of my favorite topics. “Very much.”

  “I do too. I watched it growing up. Spock has long been a favorite character of mine.”

  “Me too.” I sit up straight and take a quick look into her eyes. “I enjoy the scientific way he dealt with problems.”

  “I always liked his logic, too. I wish more people could be that way ... so open and concise.”

  “Yes. It makes Spock easy to understand,” I say quietly.

  “And take at his word. Did you know he once wrote a letter to a mixed-race girl in the sixties? She was sad because the other children didn’t accept her and mocked her. So, she asked him, as Spock, for advice on how to handle it.”

  “I did know that. You relate to this?”

  “In some ways.” She pushes the food around on her plate.

  “Are you also mixed race?” I ask, taking in her caramel-colored skin.

  “I don’t know.”

  My eyes narrow. How is that possible? “I don’t understand.”

  “I was abandoned as a small child. I’m not sure who my parents were or what my genetic makeup is.”

  “Oh.” That makes sense. I eat more of my food, unsure of what to say.

  She laughs. “People usually pry after that. They try to get me to talk.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I turn to look at her.

  “No.”

  “Okay.” I finish my food.

  “What’s waiting for you in Pittsburg?” she asks.

  I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “It’s my home.”

  “It’s mine, too. I grew up there, but I moved away a couple of years ago. Now I’m moving back. My family had a big welcome back dinner planned. I’m saddened to miss it. Did you have plans?”

  “Yes, Christmas Eve dinner with my entire family.”

  “That sounds nice. Are you upset you’re missing it?”

  “No. I like my family. I don’t like dealing with them all at once in one place.”

  She snickers. “I can understand that. My family is small. Just three people plus myself.”

  “I thought you had no family.”

  “Not biologically speaking. We were foster children together. This is the family I’ve chosen.”

  “You’re easy to talk to.”

  “I feel the same way about you, Sam.” She squeezes my knee, but quickly removes her hand like it’s on fire. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like being touched. I saw you when the officer grabbed you earlier.”

  “I like it when you touch me. You use the right amount of pressure.”

  Her lips form an O. I wonder if they taste like the pie she just ate. I can’t help but study her lips. Pants tightening, I shift in my chair, surprised. It’s not a problem I often have in public these days. Suddenly, it’s like I’m in middle school again.

  “We’ve been sitting here a while. Do you want to walk? I have something I think you’ll like,” she says, standing.

  Intrigued, I follow her. Gathering our things, we leave the gate quietly. The lights have dimmed, and people have settled in to wait out the night. She guides me to a display.

  “This is all about the airport and its history.”

  “Oh.” I step forward, reading the information on the murals of older photos posted on the wall. “I didn’t know this was here. I only came through here for business.” I take my camera out and snap a few pictures. I’ll add this to my collection of files back home.

  “I’ve spent many a layover entertained by their displays. I enjoy learning history. I have way more pamphlets and books than I need about places I’ve never been to.”

  “I like having interests to occupy my time. I attend Star Trek conventions and keep up my flight hours.”
r />   “I love conventions. Do you cosplay?”

  I turn, excited by her interest. “I do.”

  “Do you have any pictures of it? I’d like to see them. I’ve always wanted to dress up, but ...” she looks down and shrugs, “I guess I never had the guts.”

  “You should. I’m sure you could pull off any character you wanted to.”

  She peers up at me from beneath her lashes. “You think?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe we could go to one together?”

  “Would you like that?”

  “I think I would very much.” She steps closer to me. “The real question is, would you?”

  Yes. My mind screams the answer, but my tongue is tied.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

  “I-I think I’d like it, too.” I step closer, seeking her warmth. She presses against me with her weight. “It’s easy to talk to you.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way.

  “That’s rare for me.” I swallow. It’s always better to get things out in the open. “I have Asperger’s.” I watch her face.

  “I figured it might be something like that.”

  “You did?”

  “Someone I love very much has it also, and while no two Aspies are the same, you have similar mannerisms.”

  I blink. I wasn’t expecting this response. “Want to see some more history of the airport?”

  “Yes.” She slips her hand into mine and locks our fingers firmly.

  Warmth spreads through my body as we explore and learn together. We stop at the end cap of the gate, watching the snow coming down in the reflection of the lights outside.

  “It’s so beautiful out there. It’s easy to forget how much chaos it can bring.”

  “I like my view better,” I say, drinking in her face.

  “Sam?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d really like it if you kissed me.”

  “I-I’d like that.” An invisible pressure pushes down on my chest. Wanting something and doing it were two different things. Thoughts exploded in my mind. All the things that could go wrong taunted me.

  She grabs my hand, grounding me in the present. Cupping her cheek, I bend down and brush my lips against hers. She parts her lips, and I deepen the kiss, tasting sweetness. Feeling her tongue slick against mine wakes a hungry beast inside of me. More. My hand moves down her face to cup her neck.

  I press my thumb over her pulse point, feeling the rhythmic beat of her heart. I tighten my hold slightly, and she moans. The control she’s giving me has me rock hard. I move her back against the cool glass of the wall, covering her body with my own. She tilts her hips up, cradling me. Her fingers dig into my hair and tugs. Growling, I nip her bottom lip and move down her neck, tasting her salty flesh. I want to mark her. Sucking on her pulse point, I brace my hands on either side of her head. Her leg hooks around my own, and she wraps her arms around my neck. Lifting up, she wiggles against me. I freeze.

  “Too much.”

  She stills. “Better?” she asks, panting as she squeezes my shoulders.

  “Mmmhmm.” I’m buzzed, drunk off the intense emotions she invokes. She rests her head on my chest and want swells inside of me. I want to keep her, make her mine, keep her safe and happy. It’s exciting and frightening. I haven’t had a real relationship in years. They used up so much energy and never seemed to work out. Yet here I was, ready to do what it takes to keep this woman at my side. Removing her leg, she stands, and I take a step back, resting my forehead against hers.

  “Is this real?” she whispers.

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t want to leave here tomorrow and never see you again, Sam.”

  “Then we won’t do that.”

  “Okay,” she says.

  I straighten. “We should get back.”

  She nods. We walk close together, but not quite touching, and I take the time to recharge. Back at the gate, we settle in side by side.

  “Is this okay?” She wraps her arms around my waist.

  I feel myself fall just a little bit for the mysterious stranger who seems to understand the unpredictable way my brain works.

  “Yes.” She relaxes against me. I inhale her scent. Sleep evades me as my mind runs through scenarios of what happens after we get on the plane tomorrow. Connecting like this is rare for me. I won’t let my brain talk me out of going after what I want. Even if it takes me longer to get it than I’d like. It feels like she might understand. Maybe she’d be willing to wait and work through it with me. My heart accelerates, and I’m alive.

  Chapter Three

  Delta

  It’s funny how things can change in twenty-four hours. Yesterday afternoon getting stranded at the airport was the worst thing that could happen. I glance to my left at Sam as we pass the vultures swooping down on the bags as they escape the hatch and slide down to the baggage retrieval. Today everything is different. There’s an ocean of unsaid things floating between us

  “When will we meet up again after this?” I ask.

  He glances down at me and blinks. I want to read him, but his eyes hold his innermost thoughts secret. “When do you want to?”

  “I asked you first.”

  “Today, tomorrow. The day after that.” He shrugs.

  I laugh. From anyone else, it’d be a gimmicky pick-up line. From Sam, it’s sincere honesty. “I think your family would like to see you today, Sam.”

  “Not all day.”

  I think back to the magical Christmas lights I loved walking through this time of year. “Okay. Let’s do it. We’ll meet up at Peddler’s Village.”

  “What time?”

  “Eight o’clock?”

  He fiddles with his watch. “I’ll be there.”

  We stop in front of the escalators.

  “My car is parked in the long-term lot. I need to go the opposite way,” Sam says.

  “My friends are waiting for me down there, and I’d like to put off subjecting you to them this soon. They can be a lot.”

  He flinches.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll work up to them.” I squeeze his hand firmly. The skittish look fades from his dark eyes. The phone in my pocket rattles impatiently.

  “I should go before they come up here and try to find me.”

  “They can’t get past security.” Sam’s matter of fact tone charms me. He’s trying to comfort me in his own way.

  “You’re right. This is good-bye for you.” I bite my lip and lean in, risking a hug.

  His arms come up slowly and tighten around me. I inhale his woodsy scent once more before releasing him. Giving a small wave, I rush onto the escalator, embarrassed by my response to the virtual stranger.

  Am I channeling my nervousness into my attraction to make it seem more than it is? I examine my feelings as the moving stairs take me closer to my family. No. I had enough failed dates over the years to understand attraction and spark. The inexplicable force that pulls us toward some and away from others.

  The escalator drops me off at the bottom. I take two steps, and a high-pitched squeal I know very well captures my full attention.

  Turning to the left, I see my friend’s round face filled with joy. Bundled in a massive black, goose down coat and a bright red scarf wound around her neck, she’s adorable. Shiny black hair falls around her face and shoulders in waves. Her almond-shaped brown eyes sparkle with excitement. Her middle has a prominent bump I can’t wait to get my hands on. Rushing forward, I embrace her as tightly as I dare.

  “You’re finally here.”

  “I’m here, Rosie.” I close my eyes, inhaling her sweet citrus scent. Glancing over her shoulder, I grin at the lanky, red-haired man who’d do anything to see her smile. “Hi, Duncan.”

  “Welcome back, little sister.”

  “I’m older than you by a month.”

  “And far smaller,” he says, striking up our usual playful argument.

  “It is no
t my fault you’re a giraffe.”

  “How was your flight?” Rose steps away, looking me over with sharp eyes.

  “Excellent.”

  Rose narrows her eyes. “You seem different?”

  “Maybe because I’m well-rested and finally home.” I squeeze her hand.

  “That’s not it,” she says slowly.

  “She just got in, don’t grill her yet, love.” Duncan steps forward and lifts me off my feet. I laugh, happy to be in the arms of the brother who always did his best to take care of me. “It’s good to have you back, Little Bit.”

  “It’s good to be back.” I glance behind him, searching.

  “He opted to wait for you at home. You know airports have never been his favorite place.”

  “Yeah. I know.” I hate myself for the sigh of relief that escapes my lungs. I won’t be the reason our family stays separated. I have promises to keep. He sets me down, and I fall into place between the two of them.

  “Are you ready to go home and be stuffed with good food to make up for yesterday at the airport?” Rose asks.

  “You know, yesterday really wasn’t that bad after all.”

  “Look at our brave, little soldier trying to downplay things,” Rose says.

  “I’m serious.” I bite the inside of my cheek. We don’t keep secrets, but part of me really wants to protect the fragile beginnings I’ve started with Sam. They’ll figure it out when you leave after dinner.

  “I met someone at the airport.”

  Duncan stops and turns to me. “Haha.” I blink up at him. “Oh, you’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “That’s incredibly dangerous! What if he’s a psycho?” Rose’s horrified expression hurts.

  “You guys know I’ve always been good at reading people, and it’s not like I left the bar with him.”

  “It isn’t like you to let your guard down so quickly,” Duncan says softly.

  “I know.” He isn’t saying anything I haven’t thought of myself. “He helped me out. Then we got to talking, and I ... I think I could really like him once we got to know each other better.”

  “Helped you how?” Duncan asks slowly.

  “Nothing huge. Just some guy in the food line trying to put moves on me. I have no problem telling someone where to go, but it seemed smarter not to piss where I had to sleep, you know?” I arch my eyebrow.