Page 77 of Shut Up and Jingle Me
Show up. Christ, does he even know what he’s asking?
I look down at the ticket again, the sharp black letters of my name across it.
He breaks the silence first, tipping his head with a grin that’s pure mischief. “I can already picture you in one of those ugly Christmas sweaters.”
I snort. “Not happening.”
“Oh, it’s happening. You’ll cave.” He winks, leaning closer, as though he can already see it. “Bet I can get you in one before Christmas Eve.”
“Not a chance,” I mutter, but his laugh—bright and unrestrained—hooks something low in my gut.
I shouldn’t want this. Not sweaters, not pie, not a place at his table. Not three weeks of pretending I could belong anywhere near him in daylight.
But the truth is staring me in the face. I want it more than I’ve wanted anything in years.
And I don’t think I'm strong enough to stop myself.
Eli slides off the table, the springs squeaking softly under his weight. “Better finish your checkups, Calder,” he says with a grin that should be illegal. “Wouldn’t want to keep the guys waiting just because I distracted you.”
I don’t even try to hide the low sound that escapes me, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “You’re always a distraction.”
“Good.” He flashes me another grin, bright enough to punch a hole straight through my chest. “See you tonight?”
I nod before I can think better of it. “Yeah.” My voice comes out rough. “Tonight.”
He wiggles his eyebrows at me, all sunshine and teasing, as though we’re not standing on the edge of something neither of us has words for yet. “Guess I better go search for the perfect ugly sweater,” he says, and then he’s moving toward the door, an extra spring to his step.
For a second, I don’t move. I just watch him. The way his damp hair curls at his temple. The faint marks on his throat that are my doing. The casual confidence in the way he walks, like the whole world belongs to him.
He glances back once before he leaves, catches my eyes, and the smile he gives me is so open it makes my breath catch. Thenhe’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving me alone with the smell of him still lingering in the room.
I drop the ticket to the counter and drag a hand over my face. My pulse is still hammering. My palms are damp. I feel like I’ve just worked out hard after running a marathon—shaky, spent, but wired.
Christ. I’m in trouble.
I lean on the edge of the counter, staring at the ticket still lying there like it’s burning a hole through the laminate. Three weeks. His family. His world. He wants me there. He wants me.
And I’m…God, I’m falling. Harder than I ever meant to.
I thought I could keep this light. Hidden. Just a storm we’d get through. But every time he walks away, every time he throws that smile at me like I hung the moon, it pulls me under.
And as much as I want to protect him from what I am—what I’ve lived—there’s another part of me that wants to cross the room and follow him, drag him back, and tell him everything. Every scar. Every fear. Every reason this is a bad idea.
Instead, I stand here, staring at the door he just walked through, with his scent still clinging to my lungs and the echo of his grin lodged behind my ribs.
Tonight, like every night, I’ll end up in his room. Pretend it’s casual. Pretend it’s just movies, or just keeping him from being lonely. Pretend it’s not the only place I can breathe.
It’s pathetic how fast I’ve made him into a habit. How my whole day bends around the hour I finally get to see him again.
I should slow down. Should pull back. But all I can think about is the way he looked at me a second ago, like he already knows I’m his.
TWENTY-NINE
ELI
Max Calder said yes.
He said yes tome.
