A Christmas to Remember (8 page)

I gave up on finishing up my own stocking in order to drop sideways so I could lean into my man and watch Christmas unfold.

Shy readily accepted my weight and slid an arm around my shoulders to tuck me closer, settling in himself by stretching his long legs in front of him and crossing his ankles.

And, sitting tucked close to Shy, we watched Cutter rip into that package like nobody’s business.

When Mom was around, Christmas at the Allen house could mean anything, including Mom throwing a hissy fit and breaking all the stoneware in the kitchen (no joke, this happened—
twice
). Therefore, we spent the day on eggshells, all of us, including Dad, wondering if it would be good or very, very bad.

But not now.

No, not now.

Not with Tyra. Not with Ride and Cut. Not with Shy and Landon.

Now, it was still not good.

No, now it was
amazing.

* * *

“That’s it,” Ride decreed when the last package was opened (but the tire swing had yet to be unveiled). “Can we play now, Momma?” he asked Tyra.

“Got two more,” Dad said, and Rider’s brows snapped together as Cutter looked around the sea of decimated paper, lonely present-less bows and ribbons, and stacks of loot, likely hoping one of those two was for him (or more likely hoping both of them were).

But it was Shy that set me aside and straightened out of the couch.

I watched him go, wondering if he was heading for more coffee or, since it took hours to unwrap presents—the sun was now up, its blinding brightness glinting off the blanket of snow and tufted bunches on the pine boughs—going for a beer.

Instead, he went for the Christmas tree.

In order not to step on any Christmas treasure littering the floor, he had to stretch his long arm out to reach into the branches. But this he did, coming out with a little box beautifully wrapped in gold paper with a silver bow.

He then came back to me.

Oh God.

My eyes went from the box to him.

He folded back into the couch beside me and since I didn’t move, he grabbed my wrist, lifted my hand palm up and put the almost weightless—definitely holding jewelry—box in my hand.

Then his eyes came to mine and locked there.

“Every year,” he murmured and I knew.

I knew.

Oh God. I knew.

I knew that every year they were together, Shy’s dad gave his mom a beautiful pair of earrings. I knew this because I had seven of those pairs.

After they died, his aunt had confiscated those earrings as her “due” for taking care of family.

When Shy had finally, years later, processed the loss of his folks, he’d gone to his bitch of an aunt’s place and confiscated them back.

He had seven pairs, which meant I had seven pairs. Landon had the other seven pairs to give to the woman he (eventually) took as his own.

And this was a searing memory for both men. This show of generosity and love on a day that was about joy and family. The memory had become a symbol of all the beauty they lost when their parents were ripped away. Not only two parents who loved them, gave them a home, nurturing, affection, and pride. But also losing being able to witness the deep and precious love their parents had for each other.

It was important.

It was treasured.

Now, a nuance of that lay in my hand.

But more, Shy’s love for me lay there.

Deep and precious.

My eyes stung with tears.

“Open it, baby,” he whispered.

I nodded, pressed my lips together and looked down at the box.

I tore away the wrapping and let it fall unheeded to the floor. Using my thumb, I flipped open the blue jeweler’s box with its gold scrollwork.

And then the tears came.

Inside were two emerald-cut sapphire earrings. So deep blue the color seemed to go on forever.

The color of my eyes (and Dad’s).

And they were not small.

So, obviously, when I said the tears came, what I meant was, I burst into them, loud and sobbing.

Shy pulled me into his arms.

I wrapped mine around him, shoved my face in his neck and held tight. I’d thought I’d done a bang-up job, getting Shy that awesome, custom-made, huge-ass silver skull ring with shining black onyx for eyes as his Christmas present that, when he opened it, he obviously loved. I knew that when he put it on immediately and hadn’t take it off.

But his present beat mine by a mile.

“Th… th… thank you, honey,” I stammered but I couldn’t quit crying.

I wanted to. But it was all just too beautiful. The earrings. The love behind them. The memory he’d created that I’d never forget.

So I burrowed deeper and let loose.

Seconds later, I felt something burrowing into me and I tipped my head down to see Cutter crawling into my lap, pushing in, looking up, his little boy face anxious.

“Why’re you sad, Tabby?” he whispered.

“I’m not, honey,” I whispered back.

He pushed closer to both Shy and I, his face now confused.

“But you’re cryin’,” he told me.

I curved an arm around my baby bro and explained, “Sometimes, something so beautiful happens, you can’t process it and it builds up inside so big, you can’t do anything but cry.”

“I hope that never happens to me,” he replied.

“And I hope it happens to you all the time,” I returned.

His face scrunched up, not liking that idea. It was cute but I wasn’t going to explain. Not then. I was just going to hope to God he felt what I was feeling right then one day. Or felt for a woman what Shy felt for me in giving me those earrings.

I felt more love enveloping me, and this was my dad getting close and leaning in to touch his lips to my hair.

I pulled my forehead out of Shy’s neck, looked up at my dad and gave him a shaky grin through my tears.

Dad grinned back. Then he moved his eyes to Shy and the grin faded. But the look he gave my man had my hiccoughing back another wave of tears.

He liked Shy for me.

Like, a lot.

And I liked that.

Shy accepted Dad’s look then pulled Cutter and me deeper into his arms.

It was then, I peeked through my man and my brother and saw Landon sitting there. I held my breath at the look on his face, his eyes aimed at my hand, holding the jeweler’s box.

Then those eyes lifted to mine and my breath came out in a whoosh at the shine I saw in them.

He liked me for Shy.

Like, a lot.

And I liked that too.

Like, a lot.

Better, this wasn’t nostalgia we were creating.

Just happy memories we got to look forward to making more of.

Every year.

Cut took my attention by lifting a hand to swipe clumsily at the wet at my face which I took as indication to get my shit together. Through deep breathing, I did.

“Right, boys. Jackets,” Dad ordered.

Cut peeked out from under the people huddle Shy had affected on the couch and looked up to Dad. Then my little brother (not always a hellion) gave me one last assessing look to ascertain I was all right. He waited for my non-trembling smile before he climbed off my lap and dashed after Rider, who was going for his coat.

Tyra and I went for our coats as well.

Shy, Dad and Rush, being badasses, even now just in sweatpants and tees, did not. Though Landon took off, to where I didn’t know and didn’t look, because I didn’t want to miss anything.

“Boots,” Dad demanded when the boys had their jackets on, and both scrambled for their boots.

“Hats!” Tyra cried, dashing for their hats.

“Momma!” Rider shouted his impatience.

“No hat!” Cutter agreed, swiping at his hair while Tyra tried to pull a knit cap over it.

“They’ll be all right, baby,” Dad murmured to Ty-Ty, getting close to her, sliding an arm around her shoulders, and she gave up.

I stood in my jacket, socks, and Christmas pj’s, watching Rider roll excitedly up and down on his toes while Cut swayed excitedly side to side and Dad moved to the door.

Hand on the handle, he turned back. “Santa left one more thing,” he told his youngest sons and opened the door.

They raced out.

Landon, coming back from wherever he’d gone, got close and murmured to Shy, “Next year, you up a tree in a Santa suit.”

I giggled.

Shy grunted, “Bite me.”

Landon chuckled.

“
Holy smokes!
” Rider screamed.

“
Yee ha!
” Cutter screeched.

The adults moved out to the deck that someone (probably Dad, Rush had a severe allergy to anything that even remotely resembled housework) had cleared. And we watched the boys race in their jackets, boots, and pajamas toward the swing.

“Hope to Christ that doesn’t fall down,” Shy muttered.

I turned into him and wrapped my arms around him.

“It won’t, baby,” I assured him as he shifted and wrapped his arms around me.

Rider climbed on the top of the tire. Cutter climbed in the middle.

Lan walked through the snow and I saw he’d disappeared to put on his boots (though he eschewed the jacket, of course). He made it to the boys and gave them a shove.

The minute he did, their shrieked glee rang in the air.

And I was right.

It held.

“Push us harder, Lan!” Cut ordered, and when the boys swung his way, Lan pushed them harder. They went higher and their happy screeches again filled the air.

I watched as Lan’s gaze moved to his brother.

I saw his huge smile.

And I knew Landon Cage was getting used to happy.

* * *

“Cut, Ride, hang on, babies,” Tyra said to her sons.

We were sitting at the dining room table, an addition to the house Tyra made after she moved in with Dad. An addition she utilized daily, seeing as even if Dad was off on Chaos business, she had a family dinner every night with her two boys, Dad when he was around, and the same with Rush and me (and now Shy) when we were at their house.

Rider and Cutter weren’t the only ones dying to tuck in to Christmas dinner. Dad had put his special rub on two beef tenderloins then roasted them to perfection and I couldn’t wait to eat.

My father could cook anything and it was always spectacular. But he only cooked his special rub beef tenderloins for Christmas and birthdays. We were all itching to dig in because we knew the delights that awaited us.

As for me, I also couldn’t wait for Shy and Landon to be introduced to the mouthwatering meal.

Tyra looked at Dad then lifted her wineglass.

Her intentions were clear so the men went for their beers. I grabbed my wineglass and Ride and Cut, looking at each other kind of confused, finally joined in, grabbing their sodas.

“Nothing,” Ty-Ty started and I looked to her to see her gaze on my side of the table where I was sitting between Shy and Landon. “Is more important than family.”

Uh-oh.

I had a feeling I was going to cry again.

I reached a hand under the table and wrapped my fingers around Shy’s hard thigh. When I did, Shy’s hand moved to mine, his fingers curling around, forcing mine from his thigh to curve around his. And then he held tight.

I reciprocated the gesture as Tyra kept talking.

“So it’s a blessing when that family grows.” She looked at her husband, then her boys, to Rush then back to my side of the table. When she spoke again, her voice was soft. “Shy, Lan, welcome to our family.” She lifted her glass higher and finished, “Merry Christmas.”

I forced a “Merry Christmas,” through my tight throat and heard my dad’s rough “Merry Christmas, baby.”

I looked to Dad to see his gaze soft and sweet on his wife, and I felt that familiar thrill I got whenever I was with them, knowing the love and happiness Tyra had finally brought to my dad’s life and how very much he appreciated it. Through this, I heard Shy, Rush, and Landon muttering their Merry Christmases.

We drank to Ty-Ty’s toast.

Then we tucked in.

Or, that was to say, everyone else did.

I stared at Tyra until she felt my eyes and looked at me.

“Thank you,” I mouthed to her.

“You’re welcome, honey,” she mouthed to me.

I sucked in a deep breath.

Then I put down my glass, picked up my fork and knife, and dove in to the delights awaiting me.

* * *

I followed Shy into our little apartment. He stayed at the door and held it open for me. Once I cleared it, I heard it close and the lock go. I turned on the lamp and dropped the three shopping bags full of Christmas stash right where I stood. Then I tore off my hat, shrugged off my coat, and threw them on the chair. After that was accomplished, I moved to the couch and fell on it on my back, my hands going to my belly.

“I’m not eating for a week,” I announced.

About an hour after dinner, we’d come down the mountain (and yes, I was
still
stuffed), Rush and Lan leaving at the same time as Shy and me. It was time to let Dad and Tyra have their time with their boys. It was time for Rush to get to whatever girl was on his hook these days (I couldn’t keep up). And it was time for Landon to carouse (yes, on Christmas. Then again, Lan didn’t take many breaks from carousing, especially when he was on leave).

More, it was time for me to have Shy all to myself.

Some of the apartment was packed up. This was because Shy and I were moving to our new house in a few weeks and I was so excited to start that part of our lives together, I couldn’t wait to box up the old in preparation for the new.

My mind on this happy thought, I got another happy thought when Shy entered my line of sight and I saw him grinning down at me.

“That’s too bad, baby, seein’ as you have a mountain of Christmas candy to get through.”

His words tugged at my heartstrings so hard, I had to draw in breath.

This was because, back in the beginning, and that was the beginning of what would become Shy and me, he’d come over because he thought I was sick and he’d found me under a mountain of discarded Christmas candy wrappers that I’d consumed the night before while watching scary movies.

I remembered it like it was yesterday, watching his long, lanky, loose-limbed body stride through my apartment, then bend to clean up the wrapper mess.