Page 95 of Night Shift

While he drove, I caught him grinning like the Cheshire Cat and instantly knew he was up to something. “Okay, what are you hiding? That grin is a dead giveaway.”

“Just wait and see,” he teased, keeping his eyes on the road.

Before long, we were parked next to the Firebird in his garage and heading in. From the outside, everything looked exactly like it had before the raid on his house. It was like the entire ordeal had never happened.

As soon as we walked in, the inviting scents of pine needles and cinnamon hit me, wrapping around me like a hug. My eyes widened in surprise as I took in the sight before me. A Christmas tree stood in the living room. Its lights twinkled softly in the dim light, casting a magical glow over the room.

“I thought you said you didn’t do holidays,” I said, stepping closer to the tree.

Atticus smiled softly and shrugged. “I wanted to make this Christmas special—for you.”

Spinning in a circle, I took in the sight of all the lavish decorations. They brought Atticus’s home to life. It was like stepping into a Christmas wonderland, and my heart swelled. The thought and effort he’d put into this was truly gratifying.

When I approached the tree, I noticed my childhood ornaments, the ones that had somehow survived the ransacking of my apartment, beautifully integrated with new ones. It was like a bridge between my past and our future.

Atticus handed me a small package, his eyes shining. “This isn’t your main Christmas present, just a little something for now.”

Tearing open the wrapping paper, I found an ornament that featured the only photo of us together—taken on our first “not-a-date” hike at Swan Creek Trail. In the photo, Atticus was smiling brightly, looking a bit caught off guard as I poked him in the ribs. I remembered him taking it but had never seen it. God did that day seem like a long time ago now.

Eagerly, I stepped forward and hung the ornament on the tree. Yet, amidst the joy, a flicker of uncertainty remained. Was this a forever thing for us, or was Atticus merely caught up in the moment?

As if sensing my hesitation, he stepped closer and said, “This is just the beginning, Sam. I want every Christmas to be like this, with you.”

He pulled me into a hug, and I simply melted into him, embracing him tightly.

As soon as we were settled in, Atticus glanced at me with that determined look he sometimes got, the one that said he was about to insist on me doing something for my own good. “Why don’t you head upstairs and take a nice, long bath? Let me take care of things down here.”

“Atticus, I’m fine. Really, I can—”

He cut me off with a gentle firmness. “No arguments. Go relax. You’ve been through a lot.”

I gave in. It was pointless to argue with him when he was in this mode.

The bath was soothing, the warmth seeping into my muscles, but my mind couldn’t stay still. I kept thinking about the little chest I had taken from his closet on my first day here. The guilt had been eating at me, and it had only gotten worse with everything he had done for me.

After drying off and wrapping myself in a soft robe, I made my way to the guest bedroom where I’d stashed the chest. For a moment, I stood holding it in my hands. I was still curious about what was inside, but never in a million years would I peek. He probably hadn’t noticed it was missing—because he hadn’t said anything yet—and it occurred to me that I might be able to sneak it back into his closet. But in my heart, I knew I needed to come clean, even if it meant making him mad.

Taking a deep breath, I ran to place the box in the bathroom, then called down to him, “Can you come upstairs? I…I need to talk to you about something important.”

Within a few seconds, he bounded up the stairs and entered the room, frowning slightly in concern. “Sam, what’s wrong? You sound awfully serious.”

Suddenly, I wasn’t just nervous; I was terrified of his reaction. “There’s something I have to tell you, and you’re not going to like it,” I started, my words coming out shaky.

He braced himself, his body tensing. “Sam, what is it?”

I walked into the bathroom and returned with the chest, holding it out to him. “I took this the first day I was here. I shouldn’t have, and I wanted to tell you before, but the timing never seemed right. Not that you have any reason to believe me, but I swear I haven’t opened it. Please don’t hate me.”

For a moment, he just stared at the chest. Then he looked up at me. Unexpectedly, he chuckled and rolled his eyes. My confusion must have been written all over my face because he calmly sat the chest on the bed and unlocked it with a key he pulled out from the nightstand next to him.

“It’s just…I thought you were going to say something much worse based on your tone when you asked me to come up,” he said, as he opened the chest to reveal its contents. Inside were photos and keepsakes from his childhood, pieces of a past he rarely spoke of. “I’ve always found these hard to look at,” he admitted. “But now, with you it feels different.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to him, indicating I should join him. After shuffling through the pictures and mementos, he pulled a few out and began to tell me about them.

As he shared the stories behind the photos, the atmosphere seemed to shift. It was almost as though he was working through the memories, finally accepting these parts of his past. He talked about his parents more than he ever had before, telling me about the good times as well as the bad. By showing me these mementos, it was helping him come to grips with a childhood full of trauma he didn’t deserve.

“All right,” he said, tucking the last photo back into the little chest. “That’s enough reminiscing for tonight.” He set the chest on the floor, and his eyes darkened as they lingered on me, full of desire. Heat flooded my lower belly when he shifted closer. His lips met mine in a tender kiss that sent fiery tendrils down my spine.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered against my mouth, his strong hands slipping the robe over my shoulders and untying the knot. Licking his lips, he dragged it off my arms and growled. “Well, aren’t you making it easy for me to access these beautiful breasts of yours, Samantha?”

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