Page 29 of Silent Night

Then one day, I was inside the university’s library, watching her study at a table from my place hidden behind shelves, and she pulled out the journal, and with it, signed herself to me in every other way she had yet to.

So now, I’m on the rickety metal balcony attached to her apartment after using the others around hers to climb to this point. The lock keeping her door shut is weak, and exactly as the clock strikes midnight on February fourteenth, Valentine’s Day, I break inside her apartment, tucking the package of chocolate hearts beneath my arm.

The place smells like her. Sweet and addicting, like sugar cookies on Christmas morning—a scent I’m only familiar with from sneaking into homes after they’ve been baked, but also a scent I vow to recreate with her next Christmas. I pace through the living room, past the small couchand moderate-sized TV, stepping over stacks of textbooks I’ve seen her lugging throughout campus, and toward the bedroom.

Her door is cracked a couple inches and I take that as an invite, slipping inside and keeping my steps quiet while crossing the room. Like the room in her stepfather’s place—ex-stepdad now, I suppose, since I saw the reports of their divorce online when the news outlets asked for an interview on the one-month anniversary of his son’s death—her bed is in line with the window, the curtain drawn. The streetlights beyond the window light my path to her side.

She’s sleeping facing it, her expression calm and peaceful. Curls fall over her forehead and I brush them away from her face, letting my fingers linger on her skin before dipping to stroke her lips, craving the taste of them. It’s been entirely too long, and a length of time I’ll never allow to pass again.

I continue touching her, tugging the blanket down as I bare more of her body, exactly like I did on Christmas Eve. Goosebumps sprout over her arms, her thighs, but I continue, dipping low to trail my lips down the same path.

She mumbles, rolling over in her sleep, which only makes it all the better. With a smile, I trace over the front of her tank, watching her nipples bud. I follow the path to the patch of skin above her hip, and still, she doesn’t wake.

My sweet girl’s ready for me. She’s not wearing pants, like she hoped I’d eventually come for her. I’m too greedy to wait—a notion I now completely and utterly embrace—and slot myself between her thighs. After a final peek at her face, I draw her panties to the side and cover her core with my mouth.

She jolts awake, her legs kicking naturally at the intrusion, but with a heavy hand on each one, I keep her still and climb up her body, letting her panicked, sleepy state process the sight of me.

After three blinks, her limbs go limp. She dabs her tongue against her bottom lip and my cock jumps to life.

“S-Saint?”

“Yeah, sweet girl. I’m here. I couldn’t stay away.”

Her eyes dart to her window and back. “How’d you get in?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“You never contacted me. I hoped you’d borrow a phone or something. Call me.” Red tinges her cheeks, reminding me of the first night with her. “I mean, I guess, you were busy roaming cities.” Her brows dip with that last comment, gaze going to another place. “How’d you find me?”

“You post a lot on social media,” I answer her last question before sliding the cell from my pocket.

Her gaze lights up as comprehension settles. “You kept it?”

“Somehow, I knew I’d need it one day. I decided to skip the texting and come myself. I’ve missed you, Hayley. Once I figured out which city you live in, I booked a flight here. Got settled into a place. Got a job—a legal one. Figured I’d stick around for a bit.”

“A bit” being as long as Hayley is here too, and I know she understands the meaning behind my statement.

“How long have you been here?”

“A month.”

More realization dawns. “You’ve been stalking me.”

“Yep,” I answer, crawling farther up the bed as this conversation, while necessary, grows tiresome. “I wanted to see you in your life. I wanted to ensure you were still mine, that there wasn’t any assholes hovering around what I’ve claimed. Hayley, before you, Idespisedthe concept of greed. Probably ‘cause I never got the chance to experience it for myself. And Christmas is the worst time of year for people’s greediness. Kids demanding one present after the next. Adults wanting the latest tech to replace what they only got last year. Meanwhile, December twenty-fifth has always been a shitty day for me. It’s my birthday, and no day before meeting you has ever been truly worth living.”

Her mouth slips open. “You mean, this whole time, it was yourbirthdaytoo? You never said anything!”

“Didn’t have to. My wishes already came true.” I give her a meaningful look before finishing my story. “Christmas is also the day I was tossed out as a kid, forced to figure out the streets for myself. My greatest desire was food and shelter. It’s why I stole. The people I robbed didn’t need the extras; they had enough. But then, my sweet girl, you found me—twice. Once, you helped me. The second time, you fed me, handed me the very items I was about to steal, hid me, and then robbed from me.”

“Robbed fr?—”

I push a finger against her lips to stop her from talking. “You reached your little, innocent hand into my chest, twisted, and ripped my heart out, keeping it for yourself. It’s been almost two months, and I’ve decided, between the two of us, you’re the greedy one because you never gave it back. But that doesn’t mean I’m not greedy for yours in return. You own me, Hayley. You have the power to send me to prison, to destroy what little happiness I want, but I’d think of no better owner.”

When I finish talking, my breaths come out heavier, and Hayley looks seconds from exploding with emotion. Her hands come up to my chest before cupping my face and she inches down on the bed, wrapping herself around me.

“That was some speech, Saint.”

“The fuckin’ truth.” Fisting her hair, I yank her head back and drag her onto my lap, right over my cock. “I’ll never be the man you deserve, but I’m done running from what I want. I’m claiming it instead. Claimingyou. I got a place, a job, now I just need the girl, and my happy-ever-after is complete.”

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