Page 44 of Keep You Safe
“Not tonight.” I managed a cheery tone. “This Santa is exhausted.”
“I bet.” Maverick patted me on the back before releasing me to go fetch my coat. However, I already knew exactly where I was headed, and it certainly wasn’t to my bunk.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Grayson
I wouldn’t sayI was shocked by the knock on my door or who was standing on my front step, but I was a little surprised by the timing.
“Everything okay?” I asked as I ushered Adler in. “Thought you were hanging with Maverick and the family today for Christmas Eve?”
December twenty-fourth was largely simply another day of the work week for me—chores to do, horses to see to—but when Adler had asked to be let off early to go to a meeting with Faith and do dinner with Maverick, I’d assumed I wouldn’t see him again today. And I’d been happy to grant the request. Good on him, doing his meetings. It was a rough time of year for those in recovery, as I well knew from my dad’s journey.
“Yeah. Dinner was good.” Adler didn’t sound all that enthusiastic about a night I knew full well he’d planned for weeks. Something must have happened, but I didn’t press as he dug two stuffed candy canes out of his coat pockets. “I wanted to bring the dogs their Christmas Eve treats.”
“My place is drowning in dog toy carcasses.” Groaning, I stepped aside so he could give one to each dog. They’d made a full recovery from their spaying, and without their cones, theywere back to their attention-hound ways. Rory was growing by the day, and both dogs had put on much-needed weight. For the most part, they were well-behaved housemates, except they did love a good joint toy murder, working together to send fluff all around my living room.
“But tearing apart the toys makes them so happy.” Adler threw his coat in his usual spot, setting a wrapped plate on top. “You wouldn’t want to deprive them of their joy.”
Nor would I want to keep him from his obvious love of spoiling the dogs, so I merely nodded. “True.”
I headed back to my chair, knowing full well he was likely to follow. Which he did, stopping to frown at the TV I’d paused for his knock.
“You’re watching without me?” He sounded far more wounded than I would have thought. Guess I was making a game show fan out of him.
“NotJeopardy. A stupid movie.” My skin heated, an uncomfortable prickle racing up my spine as I reached for the remote.
“You’re blushing.” Adler grinned at him as he came to stand in front of me. “Is it a naughty one? Stuff Santa’s Stocking Volume One?”
“Nothing like that.” I waved the remote. I’d be less embarrassed over porn, and my discomfort gave my voice a testy edge. “Just a movie I watched every year with my folks, then my dad, and now me. It’s silly. I know every word ofA Christmas Story, yet I keep on watching.”
As much as I wanted to pretend the date didn’t mean anything, clearly, my brain had paid attention to the calendar because I’d had the movie cued up before I’d really registered what I was doing. It had been my holiday-averse father’s one nod to the season, a habit I couldn’t seem to kick.
“That’s not silly. It’s a tradition.” Adler plopped himself down in my lap. I had a perfectly good sofa, which he never used as more than a coat rack. “I brought cookies.”
“You gonna stay to eat one?” I asked. He didn’t need an invitation, but I knew him enough to know he’d appreciate one anyway. “I don’t have to finish the movie.”
“Yes, you do.” He wriggled, as happy as the dogs with their new toys. “And I love this movie too. Bet I know as many lines as you.”
“You’re on.” Smiling came so much easier around Adler. He wasn’t wrong about having memorized the movie. It didn’t take long before we were cracking each other up by delivering lines along with the characters.
“Okay, you win.” I gave a fond chuckle as the movie neared its predictable conclusion. “My dad had a leg lamp tattoo, and you might know more quotes than even him.”
“I’m glad you have some good holiday memories with him.”
“Eh.” A heavy sigh escaped my chest, the weight of a whole lot of years of missing pushing down on my shoulders. “Sometimes thinking about the good hurts worse than the bad.”
“Truth.” Adler turned to offer me an understanding look. “I miss my family and some of our traditions too. Sometimes it’s easier to not think about the parts I miss. And it’s not that they wouldn’t welcome me back, but I doubt they really notice my absence.”
I hoped he was wrong and that his folks missed him fiercely, but I’d known enough people with difficult family situations to not offer an empty promise that they did care. His truth was his truth, and his family hadn’t paid attention when it mattered.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Adler gave a dismissive gesture, almost knocking the remote off the end table. “I don’t even have trauma to pointto. Not fitting in is hardly that terrible of a story. Many people yearn for a big family.”
“Maybe so.” I held him tighter, both to stop the flailing and because he needed it. “Doesn’t mean growing up wasn’t hard on you. Something I learned in the tattoo chair is that sometimes letting go of a hurt means you gotta acknowledge the burn first.”
“That’s wise.” Adler traced the rope tattoo ringing my forearm. “Is that why you get tattoos? Therapy?”
