Page 88 of A Very Addicted Christmas

I exhale. “I do.” Only because I'm certain now he’s protecting someone.

“We do,” Connor concludes.

“But we’re always here if you want to talk,” I remind him. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay.” He looks from me to his father. “All ten toes intact.” He rocks on his bare feet. “And if it makes you feel any better, Uncle Garrison texted me last night to stop doing dumb dares.”

Last night!

Garrison must’ve heard the camera notification.

Task one and task two completed in unison. I deserve extra credit for this. “He’s right,” I say.

Eliot slides his hands in the peacoat’s pockets. “I know.”

“And so you also know,” Connor says, “we always appreciate the truth when it concerns you.”

Our son’s smile is one of admiration and love. “I also know, but never stop reminding me. I love being of your concern.”

I roll my eyes. “Dear God.”

Eliot gasps shrilly and mimes a pearl-clutch. “Don’t you mean,dear Connor?”

His dad is laughing.

I glare. “Go inside before your toes do fall off.”

Eliot happily takes the exit with a curtsey and a farewell twirl of his hand. As soon as the backdoor swings shut, I turn to Connor. “Who do you think he’s protecting?”

“Donnelly.”

I think about this. “How sweet of our son to secret-keep for his best friend’s boyfriend,” I say.

Connor nods slowly, but he’s staring off at the lake in thought.

“What?” I ask.

“He reminds me of you, willing to go down with any metaphorical ship if it means he’s protecting the people he loves. The problem is...he loves far too many people.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” I assure him. “Would you rather him love no one?”

“I’d rather him love few and strong. But that’s between you and me.”

I nod, my lungs filling at the look he’s slipping me. I know the depth of Connor in ways that no one ever will, and he sees vulnerable parts of me that I have trouble showing.

Another gust of wind barges through, and Connor steps closer to block me from it. He fits his arms around my shoulders. I glare. “I like the cold.”

“I like you alive.”

“Lily thinks I’m a vampire, so that means I’m already dead.”

His brows rise. “I’m into many things, Rose, but necrophilia isn’t one of them. You are very much alive.”

“That is a shame,” I tell him. “I had a list of people to haunt.”

“You can burn that list,” he tells me into a kiss.

I start to smile.

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