Page 3 of Screw Christmas
Opening the door wide, the smile quickly left my lips as I looked at the man on the other side of the threshold. He had a wool cap tugged down over his head, but I could see some soft dark curls poking out from under the knit edge. His jaw was square, sporting a few days’ worth of growth. But it was his eyes that threw me. His eyes were a unique slate gray and oh-so familiar, but I couldn’t quite place why they looked so familiar. His three-quarter length navy blue wool jacket was unbuttoned with the large hood hanging from the collar. Underneath, he had a black turtleneck ribbed sweater and blue jeans. My mind took a mental note of every little detail in the matter of seconds. Whoever it was standing before me, I may need to be able to describe him if this went sideways.
It was then that I noticed the large duffle bag sitting on the floor at his feet. Large enough to carry a player’s complete set of hockey gear. I knew because many years ago my former stepbrother had played hockey. And football and lacrosse and just about every other sport on the planet. At fifteen, he’d carry a bag nearly as big as he was with all his gear in it.
“Can I help you?” My gaze shifted back up to his eyes. Damn they looked familiar. Why though?
“Hey Maya, long time to see.” He lightly chuckled and flashed me a smile. There was a small, barely noticeable chip off one incisor.
The voice sent a shiver through me. Familiar, not quite what I remembered, but close. My gaze shifted upwards from his smile to his eyes again. Gray. Slate gray. I only knew one person with eyes like his.
My Christmas Eve just went from bad to worse.
“You’ve got to be fucking shitting me!” My eyes narrowed as I stared at the devilishly handsome man on the other side of the threshold not sure if I wanted to punch his smug mouth or slam the door in his face. I did neither, opting to stand there, gawking at him instead. Maybe I could make something up and arrest his sorry ass. For all I knew he just got out of prison and was here on my doorstep looking for a place to hide out from the Feds.
He looked down and shifted from one foot to the other before looking back up and meeting my stare. “Been a long time.”
“Yeah. Very long. Twenty years or so...” My jaw clenched as I glared at him. It had been a very long time since I’d even thought of Dylan fucking O’Connell and I’d been happy keeping it that way. Because with the sight of him brought back memories I’d tried quite successfully to bury—up until this moment. “Why are you here? What do you want? How in the fuck did you find me?”
Leaning down he grabbed his bag and tossed it over his shoulder. “Mind if I come in?” It was said as more of a statement than question.
Bracing my hand against the doorframe I blocked his path into my apartment. “Yeah, I kinda do mind. How in the hell did you find out where I live? Why are you here? I thought that I made myself clear the last time we saw each other that if I ever saw you again it would be too soon.”
He sighed, the confidence in his expression wavering.
Was he forgetting or pretending not to know? I suspected the latter. Of course he’d conveniently forget, he wasn’t the one who had his heart shattered so maybe it just wasn’t that big of a deal for him.
“Can I come in? We can talk. Maybe clear the air a little bit, it’s about time don’t you think?”
“It may be cold outside, but as far as I can recall Hell hasn’t frozen over yet.”
“Please, Maya. It’s Christmas Eve. I just want to chat. That’s all, if you don’t like what I have to say then you can kick me out and never talk to me again.”
I gave him another up and down, considering. The snow on his clothing had melted leaving him quite damp. “Do you not have a place to be?”
He shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. “Honestly, no. I was kinda shooting my shot with you. I just got into New York an hour or so ago, took the Greyhound from Seattle. Maybe I could find a shelter with a room?” He shrugged, his expression growing solemn.
Dammit! He was looking at me with those stupid puppy dog eyes, playing on my kindness. You mean gullibility, a voice in my head chimed in.
There was a part of me that was curious about what had happened to him over the years. My gaze shifted to his left hand, but there was a black leather glove covering his fingers, making it impossible to tell if he was married or not. Did he have a family? Kids? I had to admit my curiosity was piqued despite the hurt that was beginning to rise to the surface again after all these years. I never asked my mother about him over the years and would cut her off whenever she spoke of him, telling her I wasn’t interested in knowing. To this day she had no clue the real reason why I didn’t want anything to do with him. In fact, she was the last person I’d want to know. My mother had depression and anxiety issues so the only things I wanted her to hear were positive things when it came to my life and how I was doing.
I looked back over my shoulder and into the living room where I’d been watching Gremlins—alone—and then back at him. With a heavy sigh, I lowered my hand and stepped aside gesturing for him to enter. “Okay. Fine. Come on in. But just so we’re on the same page, it’s only for the night. You can have the couch. I’m not running a B&B.” I put my index finger up, right under his perfect nose. “One night.”
Relief washed over his features, and he smiled, not hesitating when I lowered my arm to walk on past me and into the apartment. Tossing his duffle bag onto the floor, he bent and undid the laces on his boots, then kicked them off.
Shrugging his jacket off, he hung it onto the hook next to the door, topping it with his hat. Grabbing his duffle bag again, he tossed it over his shoulder and made his way into the living room. “This is a cute place you have here.”
“Thanks.” I locked the door after closing it. I already had enough trouble, and my apartment didn’t need any more intruders. “Do you want something to drink?”
Placing his bag next to the sofa, he gave his mussed, slightly damp hair a fluff with his hand giving it some resemblance of order.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Still not ready to get a real haircut yet, huh?” All throughout his teens he kept his hair a little too long and shaggy looking. His hair had a natural wave to it, giving him a badassed surfer-like look which bordered on sexy homeless guy.
Plopping himself at the center of the sofa, he looked at the television screen where the frozen image for the first Gremlins movie was displayed. “Still obsessed with Gremlins, huh?”
“It’s a Christmas staple for me, you should know that. And are you going to answer me on the drink?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, guess it was.” Grabbing the remote he resumed the paused movie. “And yeah, I could use something to drink. Got some beer? Maybe a bite to eat?”
“Excuse you, do I look like I’m running a restaurant?”
