Page 76 of Hot Chocolate & Hitmen

A shiver runs down my spine at the low timbre of his voice, and I have to focus to keep my fingers steady on the keys. His hand rests lightly on my back, just enough to remind me he’s there, and it’s hard to concentrate when I can feel the heat of him so close.

Teddy, not to be outdone, takes his turn. “Then one snowy Christmas Eve, Atlas came to say-”

Key cuts in with a sly grin. “Teddy, with your glutes so tight, won’t you save us all tonight?”

Teddy gives him a mock glare. “Seriously?”

I stop playing, shaking my head with a smile. “Okay, you guys are officially terrible at caroling.”

As the last echoes of our ridiculous reindeer song fade away, I turn back to the piano, fingers automatically finding the soft, familiar chords of Silent Night. The playful mood shifts instantly, the calming notes filling the air, and I lose myself in the music.

But then, something unexpected happens.

Atlas, standing quietly off to the side, begins to sing.

And it’s not just any singing–no, hesings.

"Silent night, holy night…" His voice is deep and smooth, like a velvet blanket wrapping around me, warm and comforting. It fills the room, rich and resonant, as if he’s pouring every ounce of emotion he has into the lyrics.

My fingers nearly slip off the keys as I stare at him in shock, eyes wide. He’s standing there, eyes closed, completely absorbed in the song, his expression softer than I’ve ever seen it. It’s like the hard, intimidating exterior he always wears has melted away, and in its place is something...breathtaking.

His voice isn’t just good–it’s incredible. It’s the kind of voice that makes you want to stop whatever you’re doing and listen, because nothing else in the world could possibly matter in that moment.

Teddy and Key exchange stunned glances, and for once, neither of them says a word. They’re just as floored as I am.

Atlas keeps going, his voice swelling with emotion as he sings the next verse. "All is calm, all is bright…"

I can’t tear my eyes away from him. His normally guarded expression is completely open, vulnerable even, as if this song is pulling something out of him that he usually keeps buried deep inside. There’s a hint of sadness in his voice, but also something hopeful, something pure.

When he hits the high note, I feel a shiver run down my spine. My heart skips a beat, and I have to remind myself to keep playing.

"Sleep in heavenly peace…"

The final note lingers in the air, and when Atlas finally opens his eyes, the room is completely still. There’s a quiet kind of awe hanging in the air, like we’ve all just witnessed something we weren’t supposed to see.

I’m the first to break the silence. “Atlas...you have anamazingvoice. Why didn’t you tell me you could sing like that?”

Atlas shifts uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. “It’s not a big deal,” he mutters, trying to brush it off.

Not a big deal? The man just belted Silent Night like he’s auditioning for a solo at the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree lighting, and he acts like it’s nothing? I glance over at Teddy and Key, who are staring at Atlas with matching expressions of disbelief, both of them clearly biting back a barrage of teasing remarks.

Key, of course, cracks first. “Not a big deal? Dude, you sounded like a choir boy on steroids!” He clutches his chest dramatically, eyes wide with fake astonishment. “Where’s this been hiding? We could’ve been using you as our secret weapon all along! You know, lull our enemies into a false sense of security before you belt out a high note and they drop dead from sheer shock.”

Teddy nods, keeping a completely straight face. “I’m with Key on this one. Atlas, you missed your calling, man. Forget about the whole hitman business. You should’ve gone on The Voice or something.” He pauses for a beat before adding with a grin, “Can you imagine? Blake Shelton turning his chair around for you.”

Atlas shoots them both a look that could melt steel. “Cut it out.”

Key’s grin widens. “Come on, big guy. Just admit it–you're basically a Christmas miracle wrapped in muscle and tattoos.”

Teddy folds his arms, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Yeah, Atlas, we’re thinking of starting a boy band. You’ll be the lead singer, obviously. Key’s the bad boy, and I’m the one with mysterious blue eyes who writes all the deep, meaningful songs.”

Key cackles and starts doing exaggerated boy band dance moves, swinging his hips and waving his hands. “We’ll call ourselvesJingle Hell’s Hitmen. OrYuletide Carnage–you know, something festive, but edgy.”

Atlas lets out a low growl, which only makes them laugh harder. His cheeks turn a shade pinker, but he stays quiet, trying to ignore them.

“Guys,” I say, giving them a warning look. “Leave him alone. Atlas was amazing, and you’re just jealous that you don’t have his vocal talent.”

Key puts a hand to his heart, pretending to be wounded. “Jealous? Of this guy?” He waves a hand toward Atlas, who still looks like he’d rather be anywhere else right now. “Please. I can hit high notes if I want to. I just choose not to because, you know, I don’t want to steal the spotlight.”

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