Page 29 of Shaman

“It’s her favorite holiday,” Alec continued, smiling to himself. “She goes all out. Trees in every room, garland on all the railings. Wreaths in the windows. Lightseverywhere.” His laugh sounded more like a cough. “Dad always bitches about it – it costs too much, takes too much effort – but I think he secretly loves it.”

He straightened up and his fingers moved faster, quick, efficient movements as he wrapped the branches; he’d watched his Christmas-loving mother do this, obviously. “There was a girl.”

Oh.

“A friend of the family. She’s the daughter of my dad’s best friend. ‘Perfect wife material,’ Mom always said. Our parents kept trying to set us up. It was just a given that we’d end up together. And then I came to work for you.” His eyes cut over to Ian, bright and vulnerable.

Ian tucked his shoulders in.

“When I told my parents I was living with a man, my dad refused to speak to me.”

“Oh darling, I’m sorry.”

Alec shook his head. “I never wanted anything to do with Abigail, and I know now why. I was trying to be someone I wasn’t.”

“Alec–”

He spoke over him. “My mom called yesterday and invited you and me to Christmas dinner. She said Dad misses me.” He turned to him, then, smile crooked but hopeful, full of love. “My family may not have approved of my decision, but they love me, and they’ll never turn their backs on me. Family doesn’t do that. You’re my family now, Ian, and you keep thinking I’ll turn my back on you when I just won’t. It’s never going to happen.”

“Oh.” Ian swallowed with difficulty. His hand started to shake, and he leaned forward to set his tea on the coffee table before he spilled it.

Alec abandoned his task and came to kneel on the floor in front of him, hands on Ian’s knees, Bing crooning softly in the background. “Babe,” Alec said, gaze intent and loving, “whatever you need to do, I’m with you. Okay?”

Ian took a deep breath…and allowed himself to believe it. He’d fought it so long, that love and faith, that it hurt when he let it in, a sweet ache, sugary and perfect. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Alec’s. “Okay.”

~*~

The driveway was empty save for Ghost’s bike and a sweet white Jag when Maggie got home. The lights were off, but the warmth of bodies lingered when she let herself in the backdoor, that slightly-salty, male-smelling heat she’d been living with for most of her life. It brought a smile to her face.

She found Ghost in the nursery, illuminated by the dim lamp on the dresser, rocking gently in the rocker, Ash in the crook of his arm, warm bottle of breast milk in his free hand. She rested a shoulder against the doorjamb a moment, drinking in the sight.

No doubt Ghost knew she was there, but he waited a beat before he glanced up at her. When he did, he frowned thoughtfully, gaze fixed inward.

“Uh-oh,” Maggie said, “that’s never a good look.”

He smirked. “You’re hilarious.”

“I know.” She stepped into the room, rested a hand on the arm of the chair and leaned in to kiss him. “How was boys’ night?”

“More crowded than I thought it’d be. What did y’all do?”

“Played cards. Talked about how much better it smelled without all of you guys in the house.”

“Ha.”

She sank down into the bean bag chair with a grateful sigh. It turned out whooping all the young ones at poker made a girl’s neck sore. “So what’s put that wrinkle between your eyebrows?”

“Old age. I’m old, sweetheart.”

“Nice try,” she said with a snort.

“Yeah, yeah.” He grew serious. “Ian came by.”

“Ah.” She knew that Ghost, Aidan, and Mercy had been working with him the past few weeks, something absurd like fight training. She’d laid eyes on the kingpin a few times, and nothing about his long, sleek hair and bespoke suits pointed toward an interest in physical combat. “That’s…surprising.”

“He wants us to help him kill somebody.”

“Jesus.”

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