Page 161 of Filthy Rich Santas

“I just needed to thank you for that before we end this. To thank you for seeing me, for pushing me, for… everything. It’s honestly been one of the best Christmases of my life, and it’s not even Christmas yet.” I laugh a little self-consciously, biting my lip before I whisper, “I’ll never forget it.”

For a moment, nobody moves.

Then Ryder steps forward, cupping my face in his hands. His lips crash into mine, stealing my breath in a searing kiss.

When we part, his eyes are blazing. “You, Lana, are extraordinary,” he murmurs. “Don’t ever let anyone make you think otherwise. These past days with you have been… fuck, they’ve been incredible.”

Before I can respond, Tristan is there, pulling me into his arms. His kiss is softer but no less intense, and when he pulls back and lifts my hand, deliberately pressing my palm against the scarred side of his face as he holds my gaze, my heart melts.

“It’s meant a lot to me too,” he says quietly, echoing my own words back. “Thank you, freckles.”

My eyes sting at the nickname he’s given me during this trip. Not just because it’s a sign of how much closer we’ve gotten, but because of what it says about how he sees me.

Something I grew up hiding, thinking was a flaw, beingtoldwas a flaw, he finds beautiful.

I give him a soft smile, overwhelmed by emotion. And then Beckett is there, his strong arms enveloping me. His kiss is fierce, almost desperate.

“If this trip changed you,” he rumbles against my lips, “it changed us too. It changedme. Don’t ever doubt that.”

We stand there for a long moment, his forehead resting against mine, sharing breaths. Part of me wants to beg them to keep going, to never stop. To ask if maybe, just maybe, we could find a way to make this work beyond our little bubble.

But the words stick in my throat.

What they each just said was so beautiful that I’ll never forget it—but I’m also intensely aware of what theydidn’tsay.

That they want more.

That they’ll miss this the way I already do, with an ache deep in my chest and a choking tightness in my throat.

That they don’t want it to end.

So, with a shaky breath and an even shakier smile, I finally step back. “Thank you for stopping. We should probably get going, though.”

I tell myself it’s a good thing none of them said any of those words, because even if they did want it, it’s still not really possible. Not for the four of us together. Who does that? Not with them moving away from L.A. soon. Not with…

Well, not with a lot of things. But listing out all the roadblocks to what I’ll never have anyway isn’t helping me let them go, so I stop and just focus as much as I can on enjoying these last few moments with them.

Half an hour later, we pull up to my parents’ house.

My stomach twists with a mix of emotions, and before I can decide if there are any last, private words I want to say to them while I still have a chance, the front door swings open, Caleb leading the way with a huge grin and my parents following him.

“Hey, you finally made it!” my brother exclaims as he reaches us, clapping Beckett on the back before moving to hug Tristan and Ryder in turn.

He turns to me last, ruffling my hair like he did when I was a kid before turning me in for a brief, tight hug. “Good to see you, sis.”

I barely have time to respond before he’s releasing me and turning back to the guys. “How was the drive?”

Reality comes crashing back with a vengeance as I watch them interact. These aren’t just the men I’ve spent the last week falling for. They’re Caleb’s best friends. Whatever fantasy my heart might be holding on to about somehow making something work with them is blown to pieces by the reminder of just how complicated it would all be.

No matter how much I want Tristan, Ryder, and Beckett, I’d hate to drive a wedge between them and my brother.

“Lana,” my father says gruffly, giving me a short nod which passes for a greeting. “Let’s get your bags out of the boys’ car so you don’t hold them up. Which ones are yours?”

I point them out, then my mother pulls me away, looking me up and down with a critical eye.

“We’re glad you finally made it, dear, but please tell me you’ve only let yourself go because of being on the road, and this isn’t some new trend from being out in California.”

“What?”

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