Page 18 of The Detective's Secret Santa

“Give her some time to process all this. It’s a lot.”

I stand and nod, making no promises. Part of loving someone is doing what’s best for them, even if it kills you to do it. I know Brook will be safe in Alpine Valley. I’ve made enough contacts in my week here who will happily keep me informed of any trouble.

Right now, the only thing I know for certain is that I have a pathetic excuse of a man in Houston to get behind bars.

13

BROOKLYN

Well, this Christmas officially sucks. I hug the wrapped present I found for Bash at the local gift shop, wishing it was Bash instead. Hating that my anger drove him to leave town. Why did I tell him to leave? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Yes, it was a shock to find out he’d been keeping tabs on me in Houston—at first. And yes, I’m still a little pissed that he went and got me fired before I could collect my annual bonus. But I was planning to quit the day after that check hit my account. My boss was a sleazy, sorry excuse for a human being. I had an official complaint letter all typed up and ready to submit to HR, along with my resignation.

“You haven’t eaten anything,” Mom says with a frown. It’s just the two of us this Christmas. Still, she went through the trouble of cooking as though there was a full house. We’ll be eating turkey and ham through New Year's.

“Sorry. I’m just not hungry.”

Mom nods, clearing away the plates. “Why don’t we move into the living room? We’re overdue for opening presents.”

Still hugging my wrapped gift for Bash, I get up from the table and move to the sectional. I wonder if I mail this to him, will Wilma count my Secret Santa duty as done? I let out a heavy sigh. How would I even get the man’s address?

“I want you to open this one first,” Mom says, handing me a small present.

I reluctantly set Bash’s gift aside to open the one from Mom.

In a thin box no bigger than a book, I find a white envelope with my name on it. “What’s this?”

“It’s from your dad.”

My hands start to shake as I shove the lid back on the box. “I can’t—”

Mom pats my shoulder. “I’ll make some coffee.”

She leaves me alone with the sealed letter from my late father. Tears fall before I even get it open. I recognize his handwriting instantly. It’s the true, barely legible handwriting of a detective. Luckily, I learned how to interpret it a long time ago.

The tears continue to roll down my cheeks with each sentence about how he’s proud of me, how he hopes I get that Mustang he never did, how he hopes that I find love… The air halts in my lungs as I read the next part.

I know the last thing you want is your dad meddling in your love life. But if you’ve yet to find a man worthy of you—and sweet pea, there aren’t many out there that are good enough to deserve you—I have someone I want you to meet. Maybe you’ve already met him. I’ve asked him to look after you for me. His name is Sebastian Fraser. He’s my closest and dearest friend. He’s also the most decent man I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing. I know it’s not an entirely conventional match. But fuck what anyone else thinks, right?

I let out a half-hearted chuckles strangled by the light sobs.

I don’t think I’m wrong about this.

A knock on the door snaps my attention forward. A moment later, the door swings wide and Bash stands on the other side. I wipe the moisture from my eyes, hoping this isn’t some delusion. I’ve missed him so damn much since he left.

“Hey,” he says, closing the door behind him.

“Bash?”

Snow dusts the shoulders of his black coat, but I don’t care. I rush to him and throw my arms around him. I tuck myself inside the open zipper of his coat, pressing my body against his warm chest. He hugs me tight.

“I’m sorry—”

“No, I’m sorry,” I say, cutting him off. “I shouldn’t have told you to leave. We should’ve talked it out. I should’ve known—”

“It was wrong to keep things from you, Brook. I won’t do it again. Anything you want to know, just ask. I’ll tell you.”

“Anything?”

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