Page 9 of Christmas in Vines

A twinge of shame twisted in my belly. Should I have thought of Willow in that way? Though, in my opinion, wasn’t a fantasy a high form of praise?

“Hey!” Harry, my third housemate, banged on the door, and I could practically see his scowl. The man walked around with a permanent resting bitch face and had a huge stick up his ass. “Hurry up, Tyler. You’re using up all the hot water.”

Rolling my eyes, I did a last rinse and shut the flow off. “I heard ya!” I yelled back, “Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

Muffled laughter came from behind the door, and I stepped out of the shower and wrapped my towel around my waist. Grabbing my stuff, I headed out the door, brushed past Harry and headed into my room. Dressing in my boxers, I flicked the lamp on instead of the overhead light and got onto my bed with a relieved sigh.

It had been a long time since my muscles felt this used, but I wasn’t mad about it—I had to get out and be active more.

My phone pinged, and I slid it off the table. It was my brother, Ethan.

What are you up to, you little gremlin?

I snorted; Ethan was as much of a pain in my ass as I was for him.Double, double, toil and trouble.

I checked to see if Willow had reached out to me—her name on my phone wasDamsel—but the thread hadn’t changed from last night.

My brother replied.I don’t know what I’m more scared about, how you remembered Macbeth or what kind of trouble you’re out there brewing up.

Laughing, I replied,I keep telling you I have a brain.

Not that I’ve seen.

If I rolled my eyes any harder, I would go cross-eyed. Ethan had always seen me as the reckless kid, the one who didn’t give a damn about responsibility and was always a leaf-in-the-wind. For half of my life—he was right.

Just tell me I won’t have to clean up your mess.Ethan texted back.

My emotions took a U-Turn, and, oddly, I felt hurt.

Didn’t Ethan realize that I was old enough to cop to my shit and fix any fallouts I made? He didn’t have to be Superman, flying in with his cape billowing behind him to save me all the time. Admittedly, he did raise me; our parents were busy with the business, and they left me and Ethan to our devices. He had become my third parent, and now, I was feeling it more than ever.

But if I were honest with myself, I’d given him enough reasons to be that way.

Growing up, the pranks at school—replacing the biology lab’s dead frogs with live ones came to mind—or that time I’d nearly exploded our house or even that time I’d gone bungee jumping off the roof or the chancellor building in college.

Each time, Ethan had had a near aneurysm.

If he knew what I was up to this time, I’m sure he’d stroke out.

I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.

Dropping the cell, I scrubbed my hands over my face; why did I feel so upset, like a five-year-old being sent to time-out? I was upset for a strange, mind-boggling reason, but I didn’t want to analyze it too much—because I was scared of what I’d find.

Instead, I got on the Netflix app on my phone, played some mindless action show and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The next day was a nightmare; the snow came in flash-flurries, but we made it to lunch. While most of the guys had gone off to warm up in the mess hall, I’d gone back to the warehouse to grab another set of crates because I’d overloaded the last one.

As I walked in on a group of suits, I heard Mister Clarkston, dressed right up with the rest on them in a three-piece, say, “Willow will be right down.”

I lifted a hand, “Don’t mind me. I’ll be out of your hair in a sec.”

No one gave me a second look—hell, no one gave me a first look at all, and I trotted over to the corner where the spare crates were and snagged one. As I turned, Willow came in, dressed in a snaggy blue pants suit, but the moment she laid eyes on one of the men, she went white as the snowdrift outside.

For a moment, I thought she would faint.

Her lips went bloodless thin, and her spine snapped straight. “Uncle Herman, I’ve missed you, and Mister Winslow, nice to see you again.”

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