Once again we had a trying year and as much as I had hoped 2021 would refresh my reading mojo that was lost in 2020 but alas books were not my goto mental boost. Add in my mother's health issues and I found I had only read 113 books. So once again my Best of lists may be shorter but everything I read/listened to were so brilliant it was still a hard choice. So over the next two weeks I'll be featuring my Best Reads as well as Best ofs for my special day posts which are a combination of best reads and most viewed, I hope my Best of list helps you to find a new read, be it new-new or new-to-you or maybe it will help you to rediscover a forgotten favorite. Happy Reading and my heartfelt wish for everyone is that 2022 will be a year of recovery, growth, and in the world of reading a year of discovering a new favorite.
They Call Him Levity by Davidson King
Summary:Welcome Boulevard #1
Levity works the streets of Welcome Boulevard, begging people for money. It keeps food in his belly, a leaky roof over his head, and he gets to do it with his best friend, Clove. No, it’s not the ideal life, but he does what he must to survive.
Salvatore Grillo is a man who is used to getting what he wants. He’s a loyal brother to his autistic sister, runs numerous business empires, and knows how to make people to bend to his will. It’s not often someone comes along and shakes things up. And then Levity smiles at him.
Levity’s idea to pull in more money draws Salvatore’s attention, and while being the focus of a crime boss should be terrifying, Levity is intrigued by the man. Not to mention, Sal is as gorgeous as he is powerful. The two gravitate toward one another and soon are wrapped up tightly in each other’s worlds. When enemies try to break through their doors and their lives, Salvatore has to do everything in his power to save not just himself but Levity too.
Not knowing who is behind all the chaos or when they will strike makes their happily ever after almost impossible. Time’s running out for Sal and Levity. Will they survive, or will their story end before it’s even begun?
WOWZER! WOWZER! WOWZER! OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD! HOLY HANNAH BATMAN! and a hundred other phrases and exclamation points that say one thing: HOLY CRAP KING'S DONE IT AGAIN!!!
Okay, now that I got my blood pumping under control I'll continue.
Being a member of the author's Facebook group I've seen her talking and posting about They Call Him Levity for awhile now but I'll be honest, I never actually read any of her Tuesday Teaser posts because I knew it would make the wait for release that much harder. Davidson King did not disappoint. My anticipation may have been high which can be a little scary as there is always a chance of not standing up to one's hopes but I was 99% sure that wouldn't be the case as King has quickly become one of my absolute favorite authors and her knack for storytelling has always outshined my imagination.
Salvatore and Levity are wonderful together, from their first meet you know it's going to be a bumpy ride but also an incredibly entertaining journey. Levity just has a way about him that you know people gravitate towards him and in doing so he'll never be completely alone. Salvatore's love for his sister lets you know that he'll do whatever he needs to to keep those he loves safe. When you put that kind of devotion together, it's never going to be unwelcomed or boring. That level of chemistry, not only for each other but those around them is what makes this story burrow in to your heart.
They Call Him Levity has pretty much everything but science fiction, post-apocalypse, and the kitchen sink. There is drama, romance, friendship, heat, mystery, love, action, passion, and of course plenty of heart. Will Welcome Boulevard replace Haven Hart at the top of my Davidson King shelf in my reading psyche? Time will tell, personally I can't see it quite quenching that level of storytelling hunger within me although if I'm being honest it most likely be so close that it will come down to the fact that Haven Hart came first and nothing can quite top your original introduction to an author's work. But boy do I look forward to the trials and tribulations of those on Welcome Boulevard and I got a feeling there will be lots of mayhem lurking on every corner.
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Summary:
Past secrets uncovered can rip love apart or make it soar...
A gorgeous guy showing up on your doorstep unexpectedly should be a dream come true, right? Well, not if it’s your boyfriend’s ex…
A home invasion that killed his parents wrecked Xander's sense of security. After a few rough years, he's finally found happiness with his boyfriend, Greyson, in an old farmhouse north of Boston.
On the weekend before Thanksgiving, Greyson's ex from college shows up uninvited. Reminiscing of glory days is tedious at best. But when the ulterior motive for the reunion is exposed, it fuels Xander’s hidden fears. Could Greyson ever get tired of living with Xander’s anxieties?
Suddenly, he finds himself questioning a lot of things he took for granted and realizes that the biggest threat to happily ever after is not the ex at the doorstep, but the secrets both men have been keeping from each other. Xander and Greyson have a few years of love and happiness on their side, but will it be enough to hold them together?
Too Thankful for You, a contemporary m/m romance, is the second short story in the “He is the One” series. There’s a soulmate for everyone, but sometimes love needs honesty. Trigger warning: In this story one main character struggles with alcohol addiction.
Gotta start by saying that AG Meiers is a new author to me which can be a roller coaster of a ride, the unfamiliarity can raise some anxiety levels but for me that only heightens the excitement. Too Thankful for You is a wonderful introduction and it's a Thanksgiving story, okay the weekend before Turkey Day but that still counts in my book considering it's not a holiday that gets much fictional attention.
When something is left unsaid it can fester into a bigger disaster than the reality had it been communicated properly and timely. This is part of the problem for Greyson and Zander when Ted, Greyson's ex shows up unannounced. Sometimes we have to go through fights to get the truth out and a much needed dialogue to open. I'll admit I hate Ted on so many levels but truth is, if it wasn't for his unexpected turn-up than the needed clearing the air might not have happened.
Okay, I feel like I've said way too much already for the plot of this holiday short novella so I'll stop. I will say that Zander and Greyson's weekend will warm your heart. Too Thankful for You may take your heart on a short bumpy ride but in the end you'll find it a full to overflowing with hope. Definitely a case of short on quantity but long on quality. Can't wait to check out the author's backlist and future writings.
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Snowed by RJ Scott & VL Locey
Summary:Boston Rebels #3
A second chance at love is all Kyle wants for Christmas, but a dark menace from his past wants him dead, and love is second to staying alive.
Kyle Lourenco has carved out a comfortable life and career for himself in Boston. With the holidays quickly approaching, he’s heading home for the first time in several years. Home to his loving parents and the small Canadian town where he was raised. And home to Christian, his best friend and the first man to steal his heart.
Just as a winter storm begins to blow in, it forces Kyle off the road only miles from home and a dark and sinister force from his past creeps ever closer. His only hope is getting to Christian’s cabin before the evil that has haunted him for years finally catches up to him.
Best friends since they were three, Christian Gauthier grew up next door to Kyle, in a remote mountain town with one stoplight and a forty-mile round trip to the nearest school. When Kyle left town for a shot at a professional hockey career, he took Christian’s heart with him. Even though he knew Kyle was always destined for bigger things, it hadn’t stopped Christian from falling for him as soon as he knew what love was.
With Christmas coming soon and a major snowstorm heading their way, Christian shuts the doors to the family store and heads to his cabin, where he will be on standby as an official volunteer for Search and Rescue. He has never regretted staying in Eagle Ridge, but a near miss on a simple rescue leads him to reevaluate everything, and when Kyle ends up at his door, he knows that guarding his heart might not be the best solution after all.
What can I say about Snowed? Hmmm? . . . Going home is always a treat at the holidays(even if the character is uncertain of their return). Second chance at past love can definitely bring about equal moments of new and nostalgia. Forced proximity is always a possibility here in the north, after all Mother Nature is a fickle . . . well let's just say she's fickle who has no sense of the clock or one's schedule. Throw all these factors together and you have yourself a powerfully emotional journey of discovery with just the right balance of mystery to make Snowed not your typical holiday fare and yet somehow it is typical in the sense of what makes a holiday story "holiday": HEART. Trust me there is plenty of heart in Scott & Locey's latest addition to their hockey universe.
Now, if I was to break it down a bit, well you know I won't do too much of that as this is a spoiler-free zone but I will give a little insight. Kyle is coming home after being injured on the ice but he isn't too sure how welcomed he will be especially by his ex, Christian. Christian stayed when Kyle left to pursue his hockey career and now that fate has left them stranded at Christian's cabin will they be able to talk and discover what has been missing from each of their lives in their years apart? You know you'll have to read Snowed for yourself to find that answer .
I hinted at mystery earlier and yes there is something that doesn't quite add up about Kyle's "mental blocks" for the lack of a better term here and they can definitely tug at your heartstrings and want to wrap Kyle up in Mama Bear Hugs till everything is all better but sometimes we have to experience the pain to find and appreciate the joy, fictional characters are no different. Okay, perhaps they tend to have more than their fair share of pain but in my experience that actually helps me work through things in my own life, course it also at times makes me want to whack them upside the head with a cast iron skillet.
Back to the mystery element, I love how it's believable, it's not forced to fit the characters or the setting, it's not thrown in to give Kyle and Christian an extra level of drama. It may not happen every day but it is believable, hurts one's heart but still very possible.
There may not be much hockey in this entry to the authors' hockey universe but it does make for a perfect beginning, it hooks you and pulls you in. And where this story goes is what truly makes the whole book a delightful gem. Can't wait to see where Scott & Locey go next.
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He Sees You when You're Sleeping by Sara Dobie Bauer
Summary:We met when you were just a child, but you’re a man now and need my protection.
With Christmas Eve approaching, I’ll watch over you.
Whether you know it or not.
Because no one is allowed to hurt you.
No one but me.
At 20K words, He Sees You When You’re Sleeping is a twisted take on Santa, featuring M/M romance, horror, and the holiday season.
HOLY HANNAH BATMAN!!! How did I miss this last year? This is my first read from Sara Dobie Bauer but it won't be my last!
I won't say too much about He Sees You When You're Sleeping so not to spoil this short novella. I will say that I don't think I've ever read or seen such a unique and intriguing take on Santa Claus before which probably made me love it even more. He Sees You may not be the family oriented, animated classic, Hallmark brand of the man in the red suit that has dominated our Christmas memories but Sara Dobie Bauer's Kris will forever live on in my future holidays.
Despite the darker take on a holiday staple, you can't help but cheer for Kris and Jack, wanting them to have that Hallmark HEA but whether they do is something you will have to read for yourself. Trust me if you enjoy a little dark mixed with holiday light than He Sees You When You're Sleeping is definitely up your Christmas chimney.
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Summary:
Thomas Vale is one of Hollywood’s most sought-after actors. He’s as humble as they come and adores his family. This Christmas he wants to give his dying grandfather the only thing he’s ever asked Thomas for: for Thomas to fall in love.
Noah Berry has worked for Thomas since before he was a household name. He doesn’t have a close-knit family, but he’s fine with the way things are as long as he has Thomas. After all, Noah has been secretly in love with the man for years.
Thomas gets the crazy idea to bring a fake boyfriend home, but Christmas approaches and nobody is worthy enough to fulfill the task. Noah steps in—if he can’t have Thomas in real life, he can pretend for a little while and make an old man happy.
Davidson King does the holiday!! YUMMILICIOUS!!!!
Fake boyfriends✅
Unspoken love✅
Friends to lovers✅
Holiday-loving family✅
Romance✅
Humor✅
Heart✅
You're the One ticks all my holiday romance boxes. Thomas and Noah's Christmas journey may not have the mystery, violence, and action that Davidson King often brings to the page but that doesn't make it any less brilliant. Personally, I think those missing elements speak volumes to the incredible talent the author has for storytelling.
Knowing King's penchant for giving her couples a HEA, I think we can all guess where the men's journey ends up but the road they travel getting there is so much fun, so full of holiday spirit, so many edge of your seat smiles that I won't spoil it for anyone. Just know that you won't be bored, you won't be Bah Humbugging, you'll be Santa HO! HO! HO-ing! many hours after the final page.
If you're a fan of Hallmark Christmassy romances, not only will you love You're the One but you'll be blown away because IMO, King's holiday fare is 200% better. Some may call it "holiday schmaltz" but I call it "holiday heart". Davidson King may regret having written such a holiday gem because I am already highly anticipating next year's holiday story.
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They Call Him Levity by Davidson King
One
Salvatore
“What do we have here?” The small box, wrapped in glittery purple paper and a gaudy bow, was placed on my desk. My sister, Jacquelyn, beamed at me, her slender teenage body vibrating with anticipation.
“It’s your birthday, Sal! I got you something. Open it, pleeeeeease?” She jumped, her wavy brown hair bouncing.
A quick glance at my watch told me I had twenty minutes before Marcel would arrive to take me to my meeting. “Of course, I’ll open it.”
The second my butt hit the chair, Jacquelyn squealed with delight, picked up the present, showering my blotter with glitter, and handed it to me.
“I’ll be cleaning glitter out of my suit all day.” I made sure to smile brightly so she knew I wasn’t upset, just joking around.
Jacquelyn was my younger half sister. My father, Agostino, married her mother, Belinda, eighteen years ago, and shortly after that, Jacquelyn was born. At the age of four, we were told she was on the autism spectrum, and while I don’t mean to toot my own horn, if it wasn’t for me, she’d likely have been thrown into a facility by Belinda. The woman had no patience or love for her daughter, and my father didn’t have the time.
“I made it.” Jacquelyn took the seat across from me, her grin never wavering.
“You know how I love when you make me things, Jac.”
She nodded enthusiastically. “I do. it’s why I decided to make you a gift instead of buying you one.”
I tore open the wrapping, glitter spraying everywhere, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t have stopped the smile that spread across my face if I’d tried. Jacquelyn had made an acrylic photo cube, and on each side was a picture of her and me at some point in our lives. The first was when she was born, then her at five when she’d ridden her first pony; another side was when our father had handed the businesses over to me and we’d all gone to dinner. Each picture showed her and me and the bond we’d forged in her seventeen years.
“Wow, Jac, this is the best present I’ve ever gotten.”
She laughed and rolled her eyes. “You say that every year.” She darted over to me and kissed my cheek. “Are we going to celebrate tonight?”
Originally, Belinda had wanted to have a big party at the house for my birthday, but if she couldn’t acknowledge Jacquelyn’s achievements and milestones, she could fuck off when it came to mine.
“Yep, you and me, kid. I made reservations at Luciano’s, where we will eat until our buttons fly off our pants.” Gripping her hand, I stood and pulled her into a strong hug. She hated light touches, and every embrace had to be a bearlike grip.
“I’ll be ready!”
No sooner had she left my office, did Marcel enter.
“Ready to go, Boss?” His eyes flickered to the gift Jacquelyn made me, and a small smile played on his mouth. “Nice gift.”
“Right?” I tossed the wrapping-paper glitter bomb into the trash and placed the cube next to my blotter, where I’d always see it.
“Can’t wait to see what I get this year.”
I smacked his shoulder as I exited my office. “You love her for her craftiness.”
“Seriously, she could sell her creations.” Marcel and I walked across the foyer and out the front door to the car.
“She’s insanely talented.” We got in, Marcel taking the driver’s seat and I the passenger’s.
Marcel slipped something out of his jacket pocket. “I still have the money clip she made me four years ago.” It was made from three kinds of metal and had a looping M on it.
“I’ll have to talk to her. Maybe it’s something she’d be interested in doing.”
We were quiet as Marcel pulled the car onto the highway, he concentrated on the road, a smirk in place indicating he was deep in thought.
Marcel was an attractive man. Flawless dark skin, bald in the way so few could get away with, and occasionally a perfectly sculpted beard. But he was clean-shaven today. We were close to the same height and build, but he was my second-in-command and always made sure every place I went to was safe. I trusted him like a brother.
“What’s on the agenda today? I know we have to see Grit this morning, what else? I have a dinner date with Jacquelyn this evening; I can’t miss it.”
“No worries, you won’t. Grit this morning, and you’ll be done by three, promise.”
Nodding, I moved my gaze to the window. The huge mansions shifted, and smaller houses came into view. The longer we drove, the more dilapidated the scenery became, until we were pulling up to our meeting place.
“There he is,” Marcel said as he got out of the car.
I followed, seeing Grit seated on the bench outside Stella’s Diner. Where Marcel’s baldness was hot, Grit’s wasn’t. But he was a different kind of man, too.
“Ahh, sir, hey!” As Grit stood and walked over, a wave of body odor engulfed us, and I tried not to wince. It wasn’t his fault he was homeless or that getting a shower was hard to come by. I paid him, but I wasn’t in charge of how he spent his money. I was aware of some who worked for me who used their cash to keep clean, fed, and housed based on what I’d been told. What Grit did was a mystery.
“Good morning, Grit. Hungry?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I could eat.”
“I’m on it.” Marcel hopped into the diner, and I stayed with Grit on the bench.
“All right, Grit, how’s the week looking?” I sat with my foot resting on my knee and far enough away to avoid Grit’s waving hands.
“Right, so, the MVs, they did pretty good last week, and this week looks even better.” His yellow and black teeth made an appearance when he grinned.
MV stood for Misfit Vagabonds, a name coined years ago by my father. “That’s not telling me much, Grit. There are ten of you working along Welcome Boulevard. How much are each of you bringing in?”
He shrugged and scratched behind his neck. “We got about three grand last week.”
That wasn’t ideal. Others were pulling five, but Welcome Boulevard was a hard strip. Cops were on that area a hell of a lot more than the others.
“And this week, you said it will be even better?” “Yeah, we got another guy, Clove’s friend. Might help to have a new face.”
I never okayed anyone new. It worried me that an undercover cop might try and infiltrate to take down the whole panhandling operation my father and I had spent years trying to perfect.
“This guy, I dunno. Grit, new faces make me worry.”
He was already shaking his head before I could finish. “Nah, I know him. Just been busy with other things for a while. But he’s legit. I swear.”
Marcel came out of the diner with a to-go bag and handed it to Grit. “Here you are.”
Grit took the bag, inhaling the aroma. “Thanks, Marcel.”
“No prob. Any good news?”
“I’ll tell you in the car. Grit, I’ll see you next week. Let’s see if this new individual can raise your numbers. Collection will be the same time and place.”
Grit stood, his to-go bag held close to his chest. “You got it.”
“Be safe.” Marcel walked over to the car and I followed. “Someone new?” he asked once we were settled and driving to our next stop.
“Someone Clove knows.” As soon as I said Clove, Marcel’s face lit up. I wondered if he realized how obvious his adoration for that guy was; he certainly couldn’t keep it a secret from me.
“I’m sure if Clove knows him, he’s good.”
“We’ll see how the week goes.”
Too Thankful for You by AG Meiers
I knew this day would come, but secretly I’d hoped I’d never see Edward Richards III again. Now here he is, standing on my front porch with his hundred-dollar haircut, designer suit, and a brilliant smile. It’s been four years since Harvard, but Ted the Great still looks as if he just stepped out of the pages of GQ, with stunning blue eyes, a chiseled jaw, and a perfect tan.
My boyfriend’s ex on my door step. Well, fuck…
“Oh, hey, Xander,” Ted says with a broad smile. Back in the days he was legend. Captain of the rowing team. Honor Roll student. The list of Ted’s accomplishments in the classroom was only surpassed by the rumors about his elaborate fraternity parties and his sexual exploits. He’d been an equal opportunity player, so male and female devotees swooned regularly in his path.
I stare at him, desperately trying to get my jaw back under control, but my first attempt at speech comes out as a gabbled croak. Ted just pulls me into a bear hug, slapping his right hand hard on my back. My shocked silence doesn’t bother him. The Great is used to people losing the ability for basic human interactions around him. My stomach twists, and not in a good way.
“Xander, you look fantastic. You haven’t changed one bit since I last saw you.” Another bone-rattling backslap. “Is Greyson around? I’m sure he told you that we met at a conference in New York last month and he invited me up here for a visit. I was in Boston for the week and I thought I’d drop by. I know it’s the weekend before Thanksgiving, but I hope you don’t mind.”
What? New York? Invitation? Greyson hadn’t said anything to me. Not a word. The twist in my stomach turns into nausea. Ted and Greyson were together for three years at Harvard. When they broke up in their last year, I got Greyson on the rebound and by some miracle I managed to hold onto him. Ted has almost as much history with my boyfriend as I do, and now, it looks like their glory days are back to haunt me.
Ted pulls me along in his wake as we enter the house. I can smell his expensive cologne and a hint of alcohol. I know he can sense my slight hesitation. I bet Ted is excellent in the courtroom. He could always read his opponents like an open book and rarely missed a weakness, no matter how subtle.
“Beautiful house you guys have. Bit tucked away. I almost missed your driveway from the main road. But it’s really nice once you get here. I’m sure all this peace and quiet”—he points at our tree-lined driveway to illustrate his point—“is good for you.”
Bang. Two minutes, just two minutes and he’s already delivered the first jab. I straighten and feel old anger pump through my veins. I know I’m at a disadvantage. I always have been. Ted towers over me by almost eight inches. No designer suits for me; I’m a jeans and T-shirt kind of guy. Right now, I’m wearing my favorite faded pair and an old AC/DC shirt splattered with paint. I worked all afternoon, and all the colors of the rainbow are sticking to me. I have some boy-next-door charm, but no way can I ever compete with Ted’s catwalk charisma.
“Wow, Ted. It’s been ages.” I finally find my voice…kinda. “Ehm…Greyson isn’t here. He had to go to Waltham for a meeting with a new client.” I let my sentence hang in the air and wait a few seconds, hoping that Ted might decide to leave if Greyson isn’t around. No such luck.
“He told me his firm is very busy and he works most weekends. I can relate. No worries. Do you know when he’s expected back?”
“Soon. He should be on his way home,” I admit, defeated yet again.
The short hallway from the entrance leads straight into our almost-open concept kitchen and living room. As soon as we walk through the main door, I see Ted’s eyes darting around—taking inventory of the old farmhouse Greyson and I have turned into our home. The building itself is over a hundred years old, but somehow the contractor managed to tear down some walls all around the house. The remodeling left a few awkwardly placed posts scattered around to hold up the second floor, but still created a lot of open space. Our living room is dominated by an old wood-burning fireplace and Greyson’s baby grand.
Ted stops his walkthrough at the double French doors leading to a patio in the backyard. “Nice. Fall in New England.” He chuckles. “Leaves everywhere.”
“Yeah, we haven’t quite gotten around to cleaning up the back.” I reply defensively. Ted doesn’t comment, but continues his self-guided tour of my house. We have a brand new kitchen, but when we first moved in, Greyson and I spent a lot of weekends touring antique shops and flea markets on the Cape to find some original New England farmhouse pieces. Old is now mixed in with comfortable new furniture. Besides my studio, the living room is my favorite room in the house. Warm, spacious, and with a lot of natural light.
But now, I’m seeing it through Ted’s Manhattan penthouse eyes. The well lived-in space that I love so much probably looks small, outdated, and shabby to him.
I walk over to the kitchen and quickly hide my coffee cup in the sink, while Ted looks at family pictures on a small side table next to the window. “Shit, Grey hasn’t changed a bit.” He picks up a candid of Greyson in board shorts on his father’s boat. Drops of water clinging to his dark skin. One of my favorite pictures of the lot, ’cause my boyfriend is so damn sexy. Ted smiles and strokes a finger across the glass.
What the fuck? Cold panic slowly unfurls in my stomach. Just a hint, but enough to unsettle me. It’s been a long time since I’ve had this feeling. Gripping the smooth stone of the kitchen island behind me, I take a deep breath. “I can’t believe you’re here. We usually only read about you in the paper. How’s married life treating you?”
Ted put the picture down and turns back to the window. About a year ago, he got married to Amy Kennedy, a New York celebrity whose father owns a US-wide media network. For a while, the local society pages buzzed about the dream destination wedding and suspicions about Ted’s political ambitions. Greyson was not invited to the wedding. Thank God! Nevertheless, I watched him like a hawk when the news first broke. He only mumbled something that sounded like “poor girl” and “idiot” and moved on to the business section of the New York Sunday Times.
“Ah, it’s great, really great,” Ted says with little to no enthusiasm. Small talk is not my thing. And I’m so lost in my own thoughts it takes me a few seconds to remember my question. When I do remember, Ted’s vague answer surprises me, but his face is unreadable and he doesn’t offer any more, so I let the topic go.
Before the awkward silence settles again, I ask, “Can I offer you anything to drink? We have water…” Ted raises an eyebrow and I stumble slightly, but decide to plow forward. “Diet coke or iced tea.” Greyson’s upper-middle class upbringing must be rubbing off on me. Here I am making polite conversation and offering refreshments to a man I just want to kick out of my house. I barely suppress a frustrated growl and try again. “How about some cranberry juice?”
Ted chuckles. “No, not really. Do you have some ice? I brought something to celebrate the good old days.”
It’s only now that I notice the sleek leather computer bag Ted brought inside with him and dropped onto the couch. He pulls out a bottle of Jack Daniels. “I don’t really drink this stuff anymore, but it made sense for today, don’t you agree? So many great memories.”
My mind screams. Memories. No shit. But none of them good. Fuck. Fuck.
I have a polite refusal ready just in case Ted asks me to join him for a glass, but he doesn’t. He just takes the glass I hand over and pours himself a generous drink. I stay in the kitchen behind the counter while he takes a seat on the sofa.
“So, do you guys have any plans for Thanksgiving?” Ted asks.
None of your fucking business. Instead I say politely, “We always spend Thursday with Greyson’s parents, but nothing planned for the rest of the weekend.”
Ted’s ever-present smile has teeth now. “I’m surprised Greyson is so close to his family. He was at odds with his father when we were at Harvard together.”
“Greyson is a junior partner in his father’s firm. They deal mostly with commercial contracts, mergers and acquisitions, and bankruptcy. It’s a small firm, but they have a stellar reputation, so they’ve got more work than they can handle.”
“M and A, poor sod. God, yeah, he’s got to be bored out of his mind.” Ted shakes his head. “I guess that’s how it is. In college you have all these highflying dreams and then life happens. Just never thought Greyson would be one to settle…” His sentence trails off.
I suppress an angry reply, because there’s some truth to it. Just like our home, Greyson’s lifestyle doesn’t compare to Ted’s. When I first met both of them at a gay bar in Cambridge, they’d been unabashedly ambitious. They wanted to make it big. Besides booze, sex, and partying, that’s all they talked about, and it kept them motivated through long nights of studying together. Now, four years later, Ted is well on his way. He’s working for a large firm in New York with a well-connected trophy wife on his arm. And Greyson…well, he’s got me.
Another nice long swallow of whiskey seems to relax Ted and, suddenly, he starts talking again. And for the first time since he walked in, I’m dying for a return to uncomfortable silence. “You know, Xander, I didn’t realize how much I missed Grey until I saw him again in Manhattan. We always had a lot in common. We still do. I realized that after we spent the night together.”
I nearly drop the glass of water I just poured for myself. Spent the night together?
“We really reconnected,” Ted continues with his low, melodic voice. I quickly put the glass down, because my hands start to shake. I feel lightheaded and my knees give in. I stumble to the bar stool next to the island. I look up to see if Ted realizes the impact his words have on me, but he doesn’t even look at me. He’s lost to the pictures of Greyson on the table while he downs his whiskey. Knowing it’s a mistake, I ask, “What do you mean?”
“Well, we spent the night talking.” His words should relieve me, but before I can gather myself, he takes another long swallow, and he keeps the blows coming. “We talked about how stuck we are in our lives. There’re people who don’t understand, but Greyson does. He gets it, because he’s in the same position.” He throws a quick glance my way. “You probably can’t relate to this at all, but life gets complicated if you try to live up to high expectation. Giving your best all the time and getting little in return.” I don’t look, but I hear the bottle clinking against the glass. God, I badly want a drink now. Ted says again with a little more emphasis, “I really miss him. That’s why I’m here. He always was one of the few people who got me.”
And just like that, the cold panic in my stomach has turned into a full-blown blizzard. Before Ted can say anything else, the front door opens with a soft creak, and then settles back into the frame with a thud. Greyson’s keys scrape against glass as he throws them into the small bowl on the side table and then his steps start walking down the hallway. He sees me first when he walks in and gives me a tired smile. “Hey, babe.”
Our eyes connect. I can see his smile immediately change to concern and he stretches his hand out to me. I probably look like the underdog in the third round of a prize boxing match after catching a few hits to the chin. Dazed, shaken and scared. Before either of us can say anything else, Ted scrambles to his feet.
Greyson’s eyes widen in surprise. Something else flickers across his face, but it’s gone almost too fast for me to catch. Annoyance, maybe. I fucking hope so. I can see Greyson sliding into lawyer mode—guarded, unreadable, but always oh-so-fucking pleasant. He looks like his stick-in-the-ass father when he does that, and it always frustrates the hell out of me. Usually, I fuck it right out of him, but sadly that isn’t an option tonight.
“Ted, what a surprise.” Greyson’s voice is deep and gravelly. Ted gives him a huge smile. Then he actually sways a little as he walks through the room to pull Greyson into a hug. My eyes fly to the bottle on the table. Wow. It wasn’t quite full when Ted walked in, but it looks half-empty now.
“I was in the area. It was great seeing you at the conference, so I thought I’d take you up on your invitation and add a day to my trip. I hope that’s okay. Xander, here, was fine with it.”
I was?
“Sure. You’re always welcome. I remember you actually mentioned your trip to Boston. I’m glad you could make it.” Greyson’s reply takes away my opportunity to protest.
I stand abruptly. “I have a few things I need to finish in the studio. Why don’t I give you guys some time to catch up?” Somehow, I manage to keep my voice steady. I start to walk through the door on the other side that lets out into the yard and my studio.
“Ahh, Ted, take a seat. I need to talk to Xander about dinner. Be right back.” Greyson follows my outside and catches my arm when he realizes I have no intention of stopping. “Sascha, are you okay?”
I turn around and pull my arm out of his loose grip. In Russia, Sascha is used as a pet name for Alexander. Greyson using it right now pisses me off even more. “I’m fucking great. I just wish you’d told me that you invited your ex into our home with a bottle of Jack.”
Lawyer mode slips for a split second and I see Greyson behind his mask. Guilt shows in his eyes and I feel the ground beneath me shaking.
“Hey, I’m sorry, okay? I met him at that conference in Manhattan. We had a few drinks. I may have thrown out an invitation, but I never expected him to actually show up. I haven’t seen the guy for years.”
“I guess he remembers your night together a little differently,” I say angrily. The fact that Greyson kept all this from me fucking hurts.
“What? Our night together? What the hell, Xander? You know that’s bullshit.” He looks frustrated now. I cross my arms over my chest and stay silent. After a moment, Greyson continues in a low voice. “Listen, we can’t discuss this now. Let me go back inside and find out what’s going on. I’ll order food for us and maybe after dinner we can send Ted on his way and talk this through, okay?”
I give him my best fake smile and answer, “Yes, great idea. You go back and try to figure out what’s going on. To give you a jump start, let me quickly relay what I just heard from a well-informed source. Ted is here because after the one night with you in New York he realized that you’re the only person who really gets him.” My voice drips with sarcasm. “And that’s because you two have got a whole lot in common. You both feel stuck in your life. Giving your best, but getting little in return. He told me you guys really reconnected.” With that I turn around and walk away. I hear Greyson call my name, but I just keep walking.
My art studio is just steps away from the main house. Greyson built it for me with the first big money he made from a major settlement between two Pharma companies. It’s small, only one room, but the lighting is perfect for painting. Our dog, Sally, welcomes me when I walk in. She gets up from her favorite spot on the floor where she’s been sleeping in the late afternoon sun. My dog doesn’t like strangers, so I’m not surprised that she’s hiding out of sight. She comes over and pushes her snout into my crotch, nudging my balls. I’m the only person she ever does that with and it’s a never-ending source for lewd jokes from Greyson. I keep telling him that my junk just smells better than anybody else’s, but he insists that it’s because I’m short. Perfect height for her. I bend down to scratch her head and back.
We got Sally from a shelter as a guard dog for me. When I was fourteen, my parents were killed in a home invasion. Even though I’d been at boarding school and never set foot in my childhood home again, my sense of security had been shattered.
My mother’s brother was the first at the house after it happened. John has never given me any details of what he walked into that morning, but the violent loss wrecked both of us. John became my only ally in the months and years that followed. He fought for sole custody and secured my inheritance in a major battle against my father’s family. The fact that he’s a lawyer, just like my parents, helped a lot.
After high school, I drifted for a few years focusing on my art, but it never amounted to much. Taking classes for Early Childhood Education at Harvard had been my attempt to turn my only talent into a proper job, but I just didn’t do well with the overly structured routine and the pressure of exams. My repeated failures led to a major breakdown. John was there when I woke up in the hospital after almost killing myself with alcohol. I knew John would be by my side when I needed him. To my complete surprise, Greyson was curled up next to me in my hospital bed as well. Since that day, Greyson has completely ignored all my attempts to push him out of my life…not that I’ve ever tried very hard.
Sally plops herself back on the floor and lets out a deep sigh. I can’t help but grin at her. “Guard dog, my ass. Can you go out there and chase the fucker out of my house? You’ve got my permission to go straight for his jugular.”
Sally looks at me with big eyes and then rolls over to go back to sleep. She is mostly German shepherd, but some other breed is mixed in, making her fur fluffy and soft. She looks like an overgrown puppy. Greyson’s father laughed his head off when we brought her home. A rare occasion. Mr. Greyson Kelleher Senior is not prone to outbursts of loud laughter. After wiping the tears off his face, he commented that only two gay guys would bring a dog as cute and shy as Sally back home as a guard dog. It was a short moment of begrudging acceptance of his otherwise perfect son’s wrong sexual orientation. Greyson soaked up every second of it.
Sally’s loud snores and the familiar comfort of my studio settle me down again. I spend an hour cleaning up and sorting through paints and brushes before Greyson calls me over for food.
Snowed by RJ Scott & VL Locey
One
Kyle
The flurry of action in the corner had my attention.
Our captain was locked up with Alex Garcia, one of the young stallions on the Arizona Raptors’ roster. The puck was under Alex’s skate by the looks. To be honest, it was kind of hard to tell from my position in net, as more Rebels and Raptors joined the knot.
I glanced back when a shout nearby erupted. Apparently, Austin Rowe had said something that had an incredibly bad impact on the Raptors captain, Vladislav Novikov, the massive Russian who looked like Dolph Lundgren in Rocky IV and was nicknamed “Iceberg” due to his icy personality. Vlad looked furious, which was rather scary.
It was unusual for Austin to say anything that would ever make anyone mad. My roommate was one of the sweetest guys I had ever met. Well, Austin might be second to Christian Gauthier from back home in Eagle Ridge, Manitoba. Thinking of Christian was too distracting, so I shook away the bittersweet images of times past and glanced to the corner.
One of the linesmen had started shouting at the players to break it up and get the puck into play. Something— or someone— impacted me hard. As I went down in a tangle with Vlad on top of me, my shoulder popped out of the socket. The pain was incredible. My left arm went completely numb after a few seconds. My net popped off its moorings. A rush of shapes— my teammates, I was sure— moved around me as I lay on the ice moaning in pain.
“Sorry, he pushed me,” Vlad said as he was pulled off me by Marquis, then slapped upside his head. Vlad, being a hockey player, slapped Marquis back. Tate Collins got into the scrum, but not to throw punches. He was on one knee beside me, protecting me from the snarl of players now throwing down gloves.
“You hurt?” Tate asked as I was finally freed from the massive Russian. I growled out a reply, then rolled from my injured shoulder to my good one. Jaw locked, fighting back tears, I cursed madly, knowing this was far more than a dislocated shoulder. I’d felt something rip. “Lie still,” Tate said, his hand on my hip as he turned to bellow for our trainer. “It’s okay, man, you’re good. Here’s your captain.”
“Renco, hey, Wally’s coming,” Xander said, trying to get me to my skates. I nodded, gritted my teeth, and cradled my left arm in my right hand. Blinking away the dampness, I saw our new backup goalie getting on his gear. Generally, I would have fought to stay in, but there was no way I was going to finish this game. That sucked. We only played the Raptors twice a year, and the next time would be in late April out in Arizona. I’d really wanted a win against this team that had clawed its way out of the NHL sewers to be a true contender for the Cup. Wally arrived, his face a mask of concern, and started peppering me with questions.
“It’s bad,” I ground out and that was it. I was helped to my skates and then off the ice, Wally and Xander at my side, as the Rebels fans clapped and both teams tapped their sticks on the ice.
“It’ll be fine, Renco,” Xander said before I stepped off the ice, my vision blurring at the white-hot pain in my shoulder. I appreciated his cheery words, but knew, deep down, it was going to be anything but fine.
* * * * *
It took a little over two hours for the surgeons at the hospital to verify what I already knew. I’d torn something in my rotator cuff upon impact with Vlad, who, as it turned out, had been shoved into me by Austin. I’d watched the replay a dozen times as I’d been poked, prodded, x-rayed, and flirted with by a really cute nurse named Tim. Not that I was interested in Tim or any other guy right now. I was in too much pain and feeling as low as a seal’s belly, as Pop would say. Ugh. I’d have to call my parents when I got home and tell them the bad news. Both had been watching the game— they never missed one. Mom had already called as I’d been riding to the hospital in the back of an ambulance. Nick had insisted on the ambulance, and who was I to argue with the team owner?
The tear would require arthroscopic surgery and would put me on the injured reserve list for one to six months. My eyeballs nearly fell out of my head when the chief of sports medicine said that. I doubted it would be six months. I’d work hard, do therapy several times a week, and be back in net by the end of the All-Star break. At least I didn’t have to worry about a place on the Olympic team representing Canada, because DiCosta and Delaney had those main spots, each the best kind of goalies in their own right.
My heart hadn’t been in it because I wasn’t even disappointed.
I sighed, wincing at the dull throb in my shoulder, and watched the replay of the end of the game on my phone as a nurse— not cute Tim— fiddled with the IV in my right arm. They were giving me some pain meds, which was nice. I was scheduled for surgery tomorrow at six a.m. and would be sent home a day or two later. The nurse was humming “Jingle Bells” as she moved around the room taking vitals and plumping pillows.
“You have some company waiting in the hall.” I looked up from my phone. She was an older woman with graying hair and a kind smile. Her name tag said “Mona.” My head was getting a little sloppy as the pain meds kicked in.
“Is it my parents?” I asked, then corrected myself. “No, I know it’s not them. They’re in Eagle Ridge. That’s in Manitoba. Right on Hudson Bay. Pops says we have more polar bears than people in Eagle Ridge.”
She gave me a smile. “I’d stay away from the polar bears, if I were you.”
“Oh yah, we do.”
“Visiting hours are over, but Dr. Kalmar said they could come for a few minutes.” She offered me some water, which I declined, as the creeping dread I carried deep in my psyche flared up.
“Who is it?” I asked, clutching my phone in my hand as a wave of something near panic bubbled to the surface. My heart rate started to spike. Not even the meds that made things soft could keep away the sudden fear that gripped me— that someone was out there wanting to hurt me. The fears that I always carried with me, and the shadows I jumped at, were right next to me as Mona gave me a worried look.
“Your teammates. Shall I send them home?”
Relief flooded me. No one was here to hurt me. No one was waiting for a moment to drag me from my bed and kill me. I was safe.
I’m safe.
“No, no, please send them in.” The unexplained anxiety quieted a bit, knowing that someone would be in the room with me.
She gave me a long look. “I’m good. Just feeling a little funny from the medication. I’d like to see them.” She gave me a maternal look that made me pine for my mother. “Five minutes, no more.”
I worked up a smile. “Thank you. Five minutes.” She left, and I melted back into the too-stiff pillows behind me. Eyes closed, I took a cleansing breath. It was fine. All was fine. There was nothing here to hurt me. The hospital was safe. Filled with people. The shadow man couldn’t get me in here. I was fine. Safe. I was safe.
“Hey,” Xander’s soft voice pulled me from the abyss of mysterious, unnamable fear that rode my back. “Nurse Mona said we had five minutes.”
I saw Austin slip in behind Xander with a hangdog look, his bright eyes melancholy.
“I’m having surgery tomorrow,” I said for no sensible reason. “I have a sling.” I tried to lift my arm and was rewarded with a zing of pain that raced to my toes. “I have medication too.”
“Yeah, we can see.” Xander nudged Austin forward as he smiled at me. I liked Xander. He was gay, like me, and was a good captain. Just as good as Brady Rowe, Austin’s cousin, had been. “Austin wanted to talk to you badly. I told him you needed rest, but he insisted.”
“Okay.” I felt sluggish and silly, the creeping unseen that prowled my nightmares pushed back into the shadows by the arrival of my friends. This was why I always had a roommate. The unseen only came at me in the darkest, loneliest places like sleep.
“I’m super sorry,” Austin stated, standing beside my bed, looking blue. “I was trying to get under Novikov’s skin, you know, like Marquis and Moral do, right? But when I try to chirp people, they either snort at me as if I were stupid or they get mad. Vlad got mad. He called me a stupid baby who could never hope to be as talented at Tennant and should stick to sharpening Ten’s skates.”
“Ouch,” I said, and not because my shoulder hurt.
Austin sighed. Xander patted his shoulder.
“I lost my temper and shoved him. Right into you,” Austin whispered as he stared down at his sneakers.
“It happens. Accidents. It’s slippery on the ice,” I replied, hoping I didn’t sound as fuzzy as I was feeling. Austin’s bright eyes lifted from the floor. “It’s good yeah. I get to go home for the holidays. It’s been years. Pops and Mom will make food for days. Did you know that polar bears can smell their prey up to a kilometer away?”
“We didn’t know that. Cool trivia!” Xander said as Austin gaped at me. “So, now that Rowe has apologized for being a bonehead and you’re not mad at him, we’re going home. We’ll drop by tomorrow after your surgery, okay?”
“I bet Mom makes flapper pie,” I replied. They both smiled, then kind of melted away as I slipped into a deep and thankfully dream-free sleep.
* * * * *
I did a lot of sleeping for a day or so after the surgery. All of it at home and with Austin there most of the time. He still felt bad and was fetching me everything I asked for, as well as things I didn’t ask for. He heated me soup, changed my socks, made me tea, and tried to comb my hair. When he offered to help me use the toilet, I drew the line. Politely of course because I am Canadian, and Austin is a nice guy. We watched old movies— lots of Rocky, as I loved Sly Stallone flicks— and wrapped presents. Austin wrapped. I sat there in my pajamas with my arm in a sling being utterly useless and grumpy. Austin claimed I was far from grumpy, but I felt grumpy. Like a polar bear with a burr on its butt. I was beginning to notice that people from Eagle Ridge have a lot of polar bear references.
When Austin wasn’t home, I pulled my old wooden goalie paddle out from under the bed and tucked it under the covers. No one knew I did that, thank God. It was a childhood thing, a way of calming myself when the unseen would appear at night or in my dreams. It was stupid for a twenty-five-year-old man to sleep with a kid’s hockey stick… I knew that. My life would be better if I slept with men. A man. Christian. The only man I’d ever slept with, if I were being honest. Not that I hadn’t had chances to have sex with guys. I did, lots of them, but they weren’t quite what I was looking for in a man. They weren’t Christian.
For a long time, I wondered if there was something off with me and my libido. I wanted sex. I enjoyed sex, I even yearned for it at times, but when the opportunity presented itself, I would balk. As when I’d been in Aruba with the guys for Xander’s thirtieth birthday. One of the hotel bellhops had come onto me big time, making it really clear he would bring me whatever I wanted. He was cute in a blond twink sort of way, and no one would have known.
Being gay wasn’t the issue. It was me. After a long time spent reading and dwelling on my sexuality, I came to the conclusion that I was gay and demiromantic. Having casual sex just didn’t do it for me. I had to have a romantic connection first. And since I traveled all the time, and was on the ice when I wasn’t in the air, that left little time for romance. Seeing as how I had to have that connection to a person before I could sleep with them…
Yeah. I spent a lot of time jerking off while fantasizing about the way Christian kissed or the way he would call my name in a heated rush as he came.
But Christian was a thing from the past, and he’d moved on when I’d moved away. He was in Manitoba ‘being fabulous’ according to my parents. Working in the Gauthier family store, part-timing as a search and rescue volunteer, and coaching the Eagle Ridge Eaglets junior hockey team. And here I was in Boston, playing on an NHL team and being… well, not fabulous.
“Do you want help packing?” Austin asked as I lugged a suitcase out of my closet, then tossed it to my bed. He was hovering, being sweet and solicitous, as I bumbled around with my arm in a sling.
“No thanks. I can do it.” I gave him a forced smile. It felt odd to be getting ready to go home with presents in red and green wrapping paper to take to my parents. Generally, it was the summer whenever I managed short trips home but I mostly stayed in Boston and invited my parents visit me. I cited my need to be here as business. Which was partly true. I did own half of a whale watching/ deep-sea fishing charter business that operated out of the harbor. So, I spent a lot of time on the sea, which was something I’d grown to love as a kid being raised beside Hudson Bay. But a lot of my reticence about going home was because Christian was there. I think Mom suspected that, but she never said it. “I’m going to miss traveling with you guys.”
“I’m sorry,” Austin whispered. I knew he was.
“It’s okay. Really, I needed to go home and recharge.” That was a lie. I did not need to go back to Manitoba and see Christian. “This will be a nice break! I’ll do my rehab at home, eat lots of great food, and come back in time for the playoff run.”
He tried to smile, but failed. “Yeah, sure. Let me carry that to the curb when you’re ready to go, okay?”
“I’m not leaving for another two days,” I reminded him. Two days. Shit. Maybe I should actually tell my parents I was coming home. My last call with them was all about rehab and how Christmas would be quiet, but there was something in Mom’s tone, a deep sadness that slapped me around the face and told me I needed to man the fuck up and get my weary ass home— if only for a few days. Best-case scenario I would roll up to their house and surprise them, see their excited faces, and we would have the best Christmas ever— I could even see Christian. But my alternative best-case scenario was that something would happen to keep me in Boston, and maybe I paid for them to come here instead. Maybe I should do that? Then I wouldn’t have to see Christian at all. Or Eagle Ridge. Or the resignation in my parents’ eyes because I hardly ever went home.
“Yeah, I know,” Austin continued and yanked me out of my thoughts. “I just want to help. You should keep an eye on the weather. Carl the weatherman on WCBV said something about a winter storm they’re keeping an eye on.”
“I’m from Manitoba. A tiny blizzard don’t bother us none.” I said it just to razz him a little since he was from Toronto. It was a thing we did. Saying Manitoba was colder and snowier than Toronto and vice versa. Just posturing a little as friends did. “But thanks for the heads up. You can go see Robbie now. I’ll be fine.”
“Sure, yeah, of course you will be.” He blushed, then muttered something before backing out of my room. I dropped down on the bed, shoulder aching, and nudged the little wooden goalie paddle back under the bed with my heel. I hoped I wouldn’t need it back home. Sometimes the unseen was stronger around my parents for some bizarre reason. And this time, I couldn’t rely on Christian to hold onto when the nightmares came for me because I doubted he’d even talk to me.
He Sees You when You're Sleeping by Sara Dobie Bauer
He went by Kris, although little children knew him by another name. When December 24 arrived, so did the woman in black, her face always hidden by a hood. Together, they would spend a night of toil that felt much longer than only one night. They had spent Christmas Eve together for decades, maybe more. Kris wasn’t clear on time. The only thing clear was his annual duty: walk the world every Christmas Eve, protect children, and leave gifts for the ones who believed.
There weren’t as many believers anymore; several houses didn’t glow as Kris walked a poor street on the outskirts of New York City. Sadly, most of the small houses were dark, which meant the children who lived there no longer awaited the entity known as “Father Christmas.” That meant Kris could pass by those homes. He and the woman in black had no time for unbelievers.
They stopped in front of one house, though, and Kris tilted his head to the side, curious. The house was ramshackle, probably built in the 1970s or early 80s. Bright white snow sat heavily on the roof—at least six inches—and Kris wouldn’t have been surprised if the roof caved in. He was impressed the house still stood at all with its decrepit, cracked siding; one broken window, covered in thick paper and tape; and not a single Christmas light.
Yet, the house …
It didn’t glow, per se. It flickered. Kris couldn’t remember seeing anything like it, and although his ageless memory was vast, he knew it couldn’t be trusted. There was a big, empty space in his life before he became “Kris.” He remembered nothing before that one Christmas Eve when he woke up and started walking with the woman in black, visiting all the houses that glowed—so many back then. So few now.
Why did this house flicker, like an aged light bulb about to go out?
He didn’t bother asking his companion for answers. In all their time together, the woman in black never spoke. When Kris approached the front door, made of scraped and weatherworn wood, she followed. Kris took them to The Other Place where they couldn’t be seen. Then, they walked through the front door.
As soon as they entered the cramped foyer, Kris smelled cigarettes and heard shouting. A child cried, “Run! Go!” followed by the sound of furniture being knocked over.
An adult voice joined the hubbub: “You little shit.”
Kris actually startled at the vicious smack of flesh hitting flesh. Then, the echo of a body hitting the floor. The misleading quiet swish of bodies in an altercation. The child cried out again just as Kris turned a corner, and the woman in black lingered behind, as usual.
Kris entered a living room with a threadbare couch, cheap TV, and dark fireplace. An overflowing ashtray was knocked over, spilled beside a three-legged coffee table held up by a stack of phone books.
Invisible to all present, Kris ground his teeth at the scene as a father knelt above his son, who couldn’t have been older than ten, and smacked him repeatedly, while the child flailed his skinny arms to no avail.
The father kept cussing, mumbling to himself, and Kris smelled alcohol from where he stood. A soft whimper caught his attention. In the back corner, beneath a kitchen table, two children—smaller than the one being attacked—stared in horror but remained hiding. Apparently, this was a usual occurrence, their bigger brother defending them by accepting the brunt of their father’s ire.
Kris’s heart ached.
After one more solid whack, the drunken dad pointed in the boy’s face.
The boy bled from his mouth but didn’t shed a tear.
“That’s what you get for asking for a goddamn fire because it’s Christmas.” The word came as a taunt. “Christmas ain’t even real, you fucking halfwit. It’s just another useless day.” Then, the father pushed to his feet and wove across the room unsteadily before disappearing down a dark hall.
It took a moment for the child on the floor to sit up, but he did eventually, dark hair a mess. He wiped his bleeding face on the sleeve of an oversized flannel shirt with a hole in the elbow. Kris recognized the boy, although on previous Christmas Eves, he had never looked so malnourished, so sick.
After a silent moment, the two other children exited their hiding spot and joined their brother in the center of the room.
The little girl, hair in a messy ponytail, said, “Told you,” and poked her brother in the knee.
He didn’t acknowledge her, just stared into the empty fireplace.
“Yeah,” the other child said. Although probably no older than six or seven, he had a rough appearance as though he’d spent several years living on the street.
The smaller children recovered fast and left, probably off to their bedrooms to play. Kris hated how fast they recovered, because it meant this third child—the elder child who had protected them—received beatings often. And no one cared.
Kris observed as the bleeding boy continued staring into the fire with his arms wrapped around his bent knees. That was when he noticed.
It was this boy who flickered. This boy had called Kris into the house.
With a snap, Kris produced a fire in the fireplace, and the child skidded backwards across the warped wooden floor. Then, Kris wrapped the boy safely in The Other Place and sat at his side. Kris might have expected some kind of reaction—a scream, perhaps, which was why he’d wrapped them in the place where no one could see or hear them until Kris allowed.
But the child didn’t scream. He looked at Kris, at the fire, and glanced over his shoulder down the hall.
“No one will bother us,” Kris said quietly.
The kid wrinkled his nose. “Shit, he must have hit me really hard this time.” The profanity sounded extra ugly coming from the mouth of someone so young.
“Does your father hit you a lot?” Kris asked. He felt huge next to someone so small and frail. He wondered when the child had last eaten.
The boy winced. “That’s not my father.” He shrugged. “I don’t know my father. Frank is just my foster asshole.” He wiped a drop of blood from the side of his mouth with his thumb. “Who are you anyway?” Reflected flames danced in his wide eyes, green as a freshly cut pine tree.
“Father Christmas.”
The child’s head whipped toward him. “What? Like, Santa?”
“Yes.” Kris nodded. “And you believe in me.”
You're the One by Davidson King
CHAPTER ONE
Noah
“You need to calm down, Miss Thing.” I narrowed my gaze at the blond bombshell standing in front of me who thought she was getting in to see Thomas.
“He’s expecting me.” She tried to push past security, toward me, thinking we’d roll over because she was Chantel Morrison, a box-office draw.
“No…no, he is not. Shoo.” I made a sweeping motion with my fingers, and her ivory skin flushed red.
“Listen, you little gnat—”
“Nope.” I covered my ears. “Bye.” I spun on my heel and went into the room she was desperately trying to enter.
When I shut the door, Thomas was sitting on the couch, a small smile on his face as he looked at me. “She’s relentless.”
“Why, Thomas? Why did you have to take her to the Oscars with you? Now she thinks you’re going to have babies with her.” After locking the door, I went and sat beside him.
“I didn’t know she’d turn into a face-hugger, Noah. She was actually quite relaxed and calm at the show. Then the next day it was bam, let’s get married.”
Thomas Vale was everything in Hollywood, and I was his personal assistant. I’d been by his side since the days he could only get a minor role on a soap opera. When he skyrocketed to fame, he’d made sure I was holding on. We were friends…and I was madly in love with him. Not that he knew that—no, he could never. The trust Thomas had in me was worth never telling him that little fact.
“Might I suggest going solo to the next award show?”
He chuckled. “Noted.” His phone buzzed and he sighed.
“What’s wrong? Did she get your number? I will go out there right now and—”
“No, she didn’t, and if she had, I’d have blocked her. No reason to summon your inner Bruce Lee on my account.”
Yeah, I was only five foot seven, and the only exercise I got on the daily was swimming laps at night…well, when I could. Sure, a swift wind could blow me over. But I was spunky. I had defensive skills, thanks to many bullies while growing up.
“Fine. Explain the frown and sigh and dejected body language?” I eyed him, then his phone, which he was scowling hard at.
“Christmas is next month.”
“Oookaaay? I’ve never known you to be a scrooge, Thomas. You’re actually a festive fella.” I laughed when he rolled his eyes.
“I love Christmas. You know I always go home. Spend it with my family in the mountains. It’s the only time all of us are together for the year.”
“And, what, it was canceled?” Getting him to tell me things sometimes was like pulling teeth.
He turned his body slightly, folding his leg so he was now sitting on his foot, staring at me. “My grandfather—”
“Victor or—”
“William.”
“Okay, continue.”
“He’s dying.” Thomas’s shoulders slumped, and as if his pain were mine, I gasped.
“Thomas, why didn’t you tell me?” I knew his family as if they were my own. Sure, I’d never met them because Thomas barely even had time to see them himself. But I’d practically memorized everything about them. Birthdays, anniversaries, where they lived, the pets they owned…all of it.
“I was well aware you’d do this thing you’re doing right now, had I told you.” He waved a hand at me.
“I’m concerned; how is that a thing?” He shrugged. “Just is. You’re dramatic.”
“Says the actor,” I huffed.
“I know my grandfather is old…like really old. It was going to happen eventually.”
“Yes. Life is funny that way.” He slapped my leg. “What? I’m agreeing with you.”
“Anyway. Last Christmas, he knew he was sick. Lung cancer.”
“Seriously, Thomas, why did you never tell me any of this? You said your grandfather had the flu. I sent flowers from you saying get well soon…to him…and he had lung cancer.”
“I didn’t want anyone to know. I’m sorry.”
Here I was making him feel bad for not telling me when his grandfather was dying… I suck. “No, forget it. I’m a brat. Go on. I assume the cancer is back?”
He nodded. “Thing is, last year he and I were sitting outside, watching my nieces play in the snow. He took my hand, Noah, and pleaded with me that before he died, he wanted me to fall in love. Of course I swore to him I was fine, but as his dying wish…he made me promise to try and let someone in.”
My eyes widened. “He made you promise to fall in love with someone?”
“No. He just said it would be his dying wish. And I really thought he was going to be okay, and I’d have time but…” He sighed again.
“But time is running out.”
He nodded. “I wish I could give him that. Show him I have someone in my life to love and I’ll be fine.”
“Thomas, you can’t force yourself to love someone to appease a dying man’s last wish, even if it’s your grandfather. Don’t you think it would hurt him even more if he found out you were putting on a show on his account?”
Thomas’s eyes widened and a huge smile graced his handsome face. I knew that look. “Noah, you’re a genius.”
“Um, Thomas, whatever you’re thinking, no. It can’t be good.”
“Because I’m happy?”
“No. Because something you clearly heard made you grin like the Grinch, and nothing I said was a good idea.”
He tilted his head back and laughed so hard his body shook. Carefree Thomas was the best.
“Hear me out.” He giggled like a child, excited and quite animated.
“As if I have a choice.”
My sarcasm was completely lost on Thomas, or he was ignoring it. More likely it was the latter.
“The doctor gave him three months. If I can bring someone home for the holidays, and it’s massively convincing that we’re in love, it will make his final time peaceful.”
All I could do was stare at him, waiting for the “Just kidding.” It never came. Sweet Mother Mercy.
“Thomas, that’s a disaster waiting to happen.”
“I don’t think so. If I find the right person to—”
“Lie to? Thomas, you’re going to grab someone and be all, ‘Hey, I love you, meet my family?’ ”
Thomas huffed. “No, but I’m in an industry full of actors. I’m sure I could find someone willing to do this.”
I had to pinch the bridge of my nose to release the pressure. “And you don’t think, at the slightest convenience, they won’t sell this story to the tabloids? Thomas, why are you acting dumb? It’s not who you are. You’re above average in the smarts department.”
He snickered and sat back. “It has to be the right person. Someone trustworthy but who could pull it off. We can have them sign an NDA.”
“We…oh, I’m helping?”
“Who else would be able to find the perfect person for me other than the person who knows me best?” He beamed and fucking fluttered his eyelashes…the asshole.
“One day I will quit.”
He stood and went over to the vanity. He was about to go on The Tonight Show in fifteen minutes, right before Chantel Morrison, which explained why she was there.
“You’ll never leave me, Noah.”
He looked at me through the mirror and I pouted, knowing he was right. Was it just because I loved him? No, Thomas needed protecting, and I’d never let anything happen to him.
“Fine, let me see what my brain can come up with. Operation Fool Grandpa is in full effect.”
They knocked and told him it was time, and with one last titter, he left the dressing room. I sat on the couch for a few moments wondering how in the hell I’d help him pull this off.
Davidson King, always had a hope that someday her daydreams would become real-life stories. As a child, you would often find her in her own world, thinking up the most insane situations. It may have taken her awhile, but she made her dream come true with her first published work, Snow Falling.
When she's not writing you can find her blogging away on Diverse Reader, her review and promotional site. She managed to wrangle herself a husband who matched her crazy and they hatched three wonderful children.
If you were to ask her what gave her the courage to finally publish, she'd tell you it was her amazing family and friends. Support is vital in all things and when you're afraid of your dreams, it will be your cheering section that will lift you up.
Eighteen years ago, AG Meiers came to the US for adventure and stayed for love. Currently, she lives in New England with her husband and two awesome kids—balancing work, friends and family, and writing.
When she has some free time, her favorite thing to do is travel and visit new places. Her past trips have already brought her to a variety of countries on four continents. She never passes up an opportunity to experience different cultures, diverse people and amazing locations.
Even though she has been dreaming up stories all her life, she has only recently started to write them down and share them with the world. As a writer she loves to put her characters through a lot of challenges, conflict and heartbreak, before she allows them to find their happy-ever-after.
Writing love stories with a happy ever after – cowboys, heroes, family, hockey, single dads, bodyguards
USA Today bestselling author RJ Scott has written over one hundred romance books. Emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, single dads, hockey players, millionaires, princes, bodyguards, Navy SEALs, soldiers, doctors, paramedics, firefighters, cops, and the men who get mixed up in their lives, always with a happy ever after.
She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing. The last time she had a week’s break from writing, she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a box of chocolates she couldn’t defeat.
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, walking, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee.
(Not necessarily in that order.)
She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a flock of assorted domestic fowl, and two Jersey steers.
When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand.
Sara Dobie Bauer is a bestselling author, model, and mental health / LGBTQ advocate with a creative writing degree from Ohio University. She lives with her hottie husband and two precious pups in Northeast Ohio, although she’d really like to live in a Tim Burton film.
Davidson King
EMAIL: davidsonkingauthor@yahoo.com
AG Meiers
They Call Him Levity by Davidson King
Too Thankful for You by AG Meiers
Snowed by RJ Scott & VL Locey
He Sees You When You're Sleeping by Sara Dobie Bauer
