Page 35 of Filthy Rich Santas

“Lonely?” I offer.

“I guess,” she says with a sigh. “I love them. But it’s just hard to be around them sometimes when I can never seem to measure up. You’re lucky you were raised by someone like Grandma Meg.”

I smile in the darkness, because I know she’s right. My grandmother is the best. But then Lana suddenly stiffens with a little gasp, her soft hand landing on my cheek.

Right over my scars.

“Shit, Tristan. I’m sorry. That was horribly insensitive to say.”

It’s my turn to stiffen. I don’t particularly like to be touched, and I especially avoid letting anyone touch the damaged parts of my body.

But then I realize that’s not entirely true. Not right now.

Holding her here in the dark, with most of our bodies touching, is something I like a littletoomuch.

I cover her hand with mine, letting it stay where it is.

“I know what you meant,” I reassure her. “And of course I regret losing my mother, but you’re right. Grandma Meg is great.”

“I remember when it happened,” she says softly. “She never left your side at the hospital.”

She means the accident. I nod. if I let myself, I can still remember too much of it—the shocking abruptness of the impact, the overwhelming, disorienting terror as the car rolled and rolled androlled, the pain—but almost nothing at all about the weeks immediately following it.

I’ve never been sure if the gap in my memory is due to a trauma response, or to how drugged up they kept me for all the surgeries, but when I started to become more conscious, Grandma Meg was there.

“When the accident happened…” I start, the words surprising me. I never talk about this.

Lana makes a quiet sound of encouragement, inviting me to continue.

“It was obvious that she couldn’t have survived,” I say after a second, my voice raspy, “but she was mymother, so it also felt impossible that she could be gone. When I woke up in the hospital, I kept thinking it hadn’t been real. Grandma Meg insisted to the doctors that I hear it from her, not them. It can’t have been easy on her, but I… I’ve always appreciated that.”

Lana hums quietly under her breath. It sounds like empathy, not pity, thankfully. I hate that. But I guess I knew I wouldn’t get it from her, or I never would have opened my mouth.

“She was different before the accident,” I go on, not sure why I’m telling her all this. “Grandma Meg, I mean. She was stricter when I was a little kid. A little more like your parents, actually.”

“No way.” Lana gives a disbelieving laugh. “GrandmaMeg?”

I chuckle softly. “I know, but it’s true. She told me once that losing her daughter changed her whole perspective on life. She thought she was going to lose me too. The two of us were her only living family.”

“Everyone said it was a miracle you survived,” Lana whispers.

I tighten my arm around her. “Everyone was right.”

“I’m glad you did.”

I close my eyes, a shudder going through me. “There was a time I wasn’t. But I am now. And honestly, that has a lot to do with being raised by my grandmother. She told me once that sitting next to my hospital bed all those weeks, not knowing whether she’d lose me too, made her realize that none of the things she used to think mattered were actually important. That all she wanted, if I lived, was for me to grow up and be happy, whatever that meant for me.”

“Even if it means owning a kink club?” she teases.

I laugh. “Even that.”

“Wait.” Lana half sits up, her silhouette backlit by the faint moonlight. “Don’t tell me sheknows.”

I grin, reaching up to push the curtain of her hair back, even though her face is still in shadow. “Of course she knows.”

“Holy shit.” Lana laughs, collapsing back down onto the bed, her head resting on my chest. “I literally can’t imagine.”

I shrug, still grinning in the dark. “She’s never judged me for any of my choices, and she doesn’t judge me for that. She’s the most supportive person I know. You were right. Iamlucky she raised me.”

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