Page 37 of The Sleight Before Christmas

“You too,” Ruby says to Brenden and Eli, who are still camped nearby at the kitchen table for moral support. “I want both your boots on the ground for Thatch tonight. After the clock strikes ten, you guys have to take over, but your father and I have got them all until then, understood?”

Unsurprisingly, Brenden speaks up first. “Mom-may,” he says in perfect imitation of Peyton, “are you telling your baby boy to get a buzz tonight? Because if so, you could—”

“Ask me about the damned nog one more time, son, and I’ll rip your winkie right off your body.”

Brenden opens his mouth, and Mom digs her heels in, pulling the rare tone she uses to scare us even though we’re all in our forties. “I gave you life, and I’ll take it away.” Brenden swallows. “Take care of your brother, jackass.Your needsdon’t matter tonight.”

Brenden has the good sense to remain quiet, though I know there are at least a dozen comebacks on the tip of his tongue. Eli grins at Brenden before turning to me. “I’ll come with you two and get man night supplies.”

“Tequila. It makes me happy!” Brenden clips immediately in demand. “And don’t be cheap, bro. We all know you’re wealthy!” He belts before running from the kitchen, narrowly missing my mother’s swinging wooden spoon.

Hours later, I’m sipping on a delicious fruity concoction Whitney threw together. One I’m almost positive includes every rum imaginable—dark, light, and lights fucking out. Aside from Mom’s annual nog, Whitney is responsible for providing the rest of the Collins’ Christmas booze supply for the week. No slacker now because as soon as she hears the sputtering of my crazy straw, she pops my lid, refilling my cup with her ready pitcher.

“I love you, bro,” I tell her, giggling as the warm buzz starts to filter through me, the three of us huddled on the porch just outside the den.

“Okay, who wants to start?!” I ask between them, all too eager to give a confession I’ve been holding far too long. “Erin!” I exclaim, and she jumps as a hiccup escapes me. “How are things on the home front?”

“Awesome, actually, but Serena, why are you yelling?” she giggles, probably due to her own buzz. My little sister does not fuck around and is not at all stingy with her pour.

“I think my son blew my ears out,” I tell her just as loudly, opening and closing my jaw to pop my ears before leaning in. “Huddle in bitches, I have news,” I utter under my breath before I crank up the volume again. “I mean, I like my nail polish, but what do you think, Erin?”

“It’s nice!” She shouts back as both of them stare at me like I’m growing a third ta ta. Wrapped in matching blankets, snow flurries begin to dance between us, joining the party as Whitney scrutinizes me before speaking up.

“What the hell is happening right now? Are you cracking, sis?”

Erin stares on at me, equally as confused.

“You idiots,” I hiss low. “Don’t you remember how to play anything off? I told you to huddle in,” I pop my head up, scanning the windows before leaning in. “You’re already blowing it, sohuddle in.”

They both lean in as I bulge my eyes. “The walls have ears.”

“Ohhhh,” Erin says, nodding.

“So you know what she’s saying?” Whitney asks.

“Not really, no. Not at all,” Erin says with a giggle as I palm my face and lean further in.

“I think we’re still safe for now, but Erin,” I whisper, giving her the come-hither finger.

“What?” she whispers, the rum buzz clear in her eyes.

“Get up and pretend you’re adjusting your blanket around you, but as you do,very subtlypeek through the window to see if the den isempty.”

Erin immediately stands to follow my order and Whitney grips her arm, narrowing her eyes on me as if I’m setting her up. “What are you up to, sister?”

“Let her look, damn it. It’s for the greater good,” I say, tonguing the crazy, twisty elf straw Whitney picked up while we were out shopping for mixers.

“The den’s all clear, why?” Erin asks, shivering as she rejoins us.

“I keep forgetting to tell you. It’s like I get amnesia when we leave this cabin. And Eli went shopping with us earlier, so I couldn’t, but ...” I lean in, and they do, too. “You guys ever wonderhowthe guysknewnot to ask us about asking what’s for dinner? We know Eli told Thatch, but did you ever once question how Eli knew in the first place to tell him? To tell Brenden? Because I can promise you that’sone bitchI kept tomyselfand only shared with you because I choose my battles. And I can remember exactly when we had that convo and it washere, on this deck, during our first girl’s night,” I pin Whitney, “Christmas twenty-twenty-one.”

Both Erin and Whitney pause before their jaws drop, and I nod.

“That’s right,” I point to my sister, “the same year in which your husband joined the fam. And I think he’s been spying on usevery yearsince.”

“Bullshit,” Whitney defends before pausing and sinking into the idea.

“Yes honey, your husband’s a dirty little eavesdropper. And he did it last year too because I got that present I told Thatch I really wanted when we gothome.”

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