Page 63 of Four More The Merrier

"Come on," I whisper, guiding him to his bunk. He crawls in, still fully clothed, and I pull his boots off one at a time.

"I really am sorry," he murmurs as I tuck the blanket around him. "For everything. For being such an ass when you first got here."

"Shh." I smooth his hair back from his forehead, my chest aching at how young he looks right now. "Get some sleep."

I lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. "Merry Christmas, Jarron."

He's already drifting off, his breathing evening out as I step back. I stand there for a moment, watching him sleep, before climbing into my own bunk with my guilt and confusion.

30

JARRON

My head pounds like someone's using it for band practice. Something heavy lands on my bed, and I groan into my pillow.

"Get up, get up, get up!" Beau's voice booms above me. "Santa came!"

"I'm gonna fucking kill you." I pull the blanket over my head, but his massive hands grab it and yank it away. "What time is it?"

"Seven thirty! Come on, there's presents!"

The excitement in his voice reminds me of when I was a kid, and mama would wake me up exactly like this every Christmas morning. Granted it's been him the last couple Christmases on this tin can we call home.

"I swear to God, if you start jumping on my bed-"

The whole bus rocks as he does exactly that. "Then what?"

"Then I'm puking on your boots." My stomach lurches with each bounce. "I mean it, man."

"Here." Something cold touches my forehead. I crack open an eye to see Quinn holding out a bottle of Gatorade and some Advil. "Thought you might need these."

Fragments of last night flash through my mind - her lips on mine, the alley, her helping me back to the bus. Heat creeps up my neck.

"Thanks," I mutter, not meeting her eyes.

"If you don't get up in the next thirty seconds," Beau warns, "I'm getting the air horn."

"You wouldn't dare."

He reaches for his duffle bag.

"Fine! Jesus." I swing my legs over the side of the bed, instantly regretting the sudden movement. "Happy?"

"Very." Beau grabs my arm and hauls me to my feet. "Now come on, I wanna see what Santa brought me."

"You're literally a child trapped in a giant's body," I grumble, but let him drag me toward the front of the bus where everyone else is already gathered around our sad little Christmas tree.

Lyle tosses a box at my head that I barely catch. "Here's your present, jackass."

"Real thoughtful wrapping job." I tear off the newspaper he's clearly stolen from the hotel lobby.

"Open mine next!" Beau shoves another package into my lap before I can even finish with the first one.

I pull out what looks like a miniature version of myself - a bobblehead wearing my signature tight t-shirt and cocky smirk. "Really?"

"Turn it over," Lyle says, grinning.

On the base, someone's written 'World's Biggest Drama Queen' in permanent marker. "Y'all are hilarious."

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