Page 46 of Grissom
Without a word, Tanner scrambled out of Tuesday’s embrace and fell into his father’s. Grissom’s burly arm wrapped around him, as he extended his other arm for Tuesday to join the huddle. By then, she truly detested Pam for what she’d done to this fragile child. Her first-born son, for the love of God. What made some people so mean?
Grissom murmured into Tanner’s hair, “You’re safe, kiddo. No one can ever hurt you again. They’ll have to go through me and Tuesday first, and that just plain isn’t happening.”
Darned if Tuesday didn’t whisper, “I know,” at the exact same moment Tanner did.
Embarrassed, she leaned away, but Grissom’s grip held her still. “You’re safe, too,” he said. “Now, let’s eat. We’ve got a Christmas tree to chop down today.”
That broke the evil spell that had seeped into the morning. With a mighty sniff, Tanner wiggled out of Grissom’s arms and dropped to the floor. Very carefully, not even the littlest bit excited at the idea of chopping down a tree, he returned his scrapbook and supplies tohisdrawer. Tuesday would’ve distanced herself from his father while Tanner was occupied, but Grissom pulled her onto his lap by the time Tanner was back on his feet.
“Son,” he said evenly. “I like Tuesday and I want her to stay with us for Christmas. Is that okay with you?”
The toothy grin on Tanner’s pale face was more than Tuesday expected. But when he squealed, “I love Miss Tuesday, Dad! Please say yes, Miss Tuesday. Say you’ll stay forever. Please!”
Wow. He was excited but—over her? It was all she could do not to bawl her eyes out at all the bleak Christmases he must’velived through, to make her staying one more night seem like it was all he’d ever wanted.
She didn’t want to disappoint him, but she hated the holiday. The blessed, infamous day had only ever swamped her with lost, painful memories and the ghosts that went with them. Her mom. Her dad. Her dearest friend, Freddie. The tiny kids Maeve Astor had murdered. Their poor dead father, the unsuspecting man Astor had married solely to give birth to the children she’d intended to murder in order to frame Tuesday. All because Freddie had saved a broken little girl from Duluth, then married her to cement her standing as his sole legal heir. Which seemed totally bizarre, since neither of his sons would’ve contested his will in the first place. But that was a mystery Tuesday suspected would rear its ugly head soon enough. Not today.
Before her heart had time to wander farther down her depressing memory lane, Grissom’s big hand captured her cheek and turned her to face him. “We’ve all got ghosts,” he whispered. “Me. Tanner. You. Luke, too. Help us guys remember what Christmas is supposed to be about. I want this to be their best one ever. Please stay?”
Not fair. How could she refuse these adorable beggars? Tuesday swallowed hard, not sure of anything but the sweet glow in this man’s and his darling boy’s hazel eyes.
Freddie had also taught her the most important rule of negotiation:Always ask for one more thing.So she did. “I’ll stay if I get to pick the tree.”
“Yessssss!” Tanner yelled, jumping up and down as if his legs were made of springs. Then he was out the door, screaming, “Luke! Tuesday’s gonna stay with us! Luke! Luke! Tuesday’s staying for the whole day and then all night!”
She burrowed into Grissom’s arms as Tanner’s voice faded down the hall. “Notice he didn’t say I’m just staying for Christmas? Are you sure about this?” she asked, frightened thiswas another lapse for Grissom. Worried he’d throw up those prickly fortress walls without warning and block her out, like he had so many times yesterday. “Are we running when we should be walking? Taking it slow? At least, slower? For your boys’ sakes?”
He growled, burying his nose into the sensitive spot behind her ear. “We’re the same, you and me, remember? Both afraid to take chances. Afraid to let ourselves be happy. You had a family once. You actually know what real Christmases are supposed to feel like. I don’t and neither do my boys. Help me make this one a Christmas to remember.”
“And then what?” She could feel his lips curve into a smile against her skin.
“And then, I’ll persuade you to stay and show us how to celebrate New Year’s Eve. Groundhog Day. Valentine’s Day. Saint Patrick’s Day. Umm…”
“Easter?” she asked, suppressing the giggle working its way out of her heart.
Grissom leaned back, his hand smoothing over her backside. “Mardi Gras.”
“That’s not a holiday.”
“It is in New Orleans.” By then that massive hand was in the back of her pants, his callused fingers squeezing her butt.
“Boys. Breakfast,” she reminded him, before they went crazy on each other. Not that she’d mind, but not with his boys waiting for them in the kitchen.
“Ah, yes. Right. Boys.” He pulled his hand out of her pants. “Duty first, huh?”
“Not duty. Love. Your boys will always come first.” She blew into his ear. “Then play.”
Grissom laughed, his heart full of so much joy, that he sounded like Tanner. Guess falling in love was contagious because Tuesday was falling too. For the entire McCoy family.Even the cat. And she was falling hard. But that couldn’t be. It might be time to think about them instead of herself. It might be time to get up, pack up, and leave. For their sakes.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“It’s so pretty!” Luke squealed, clapping. His eyes filled with excitement at the imminent lighting of thousands of multi-colored lights now strung on the ten-foot noble pine Tuesday insisted was the perfect tree.
It was Christmas Eve and the four of them were in the loft, its ceiling high enough to accommodate Tuesday’s tree. The lady in question sat cross-legged on the floor, her eyes lifted to what would soon, hopefully, be the bright golden star Grissom was installing on the damned tip of this big damned tall tree. Why he hadn’t wired that star on top of the tree before he’d stood the damned thing in its stand was beyond him.
‘Memo to self: Don’t forget to do that first next year, dumbass!’Which he immediately revised to, ‘Don’t forget to wire the star on before you stand the tree up next year, buddy.’Not dumbass. Never again would he demean himself, just because his mother did. What she’d done to him was wrong. He refused to let her legacy live.
Little by little, forcing himself to recognize his mother’s snarky programming when it popped up like it just did, Grissom was rewriting his childhood history. And it was working, just like his counselor said it would. He just had to keep at it, the same way he often reminded Tanner to do the same, to combat Pam’s toxic mothering. The McCoy boys were all works in progress, but it was a job worth doing and doing well.
