Sunday, March 3, 2024
Sunday's Short Stack: Wintering with George by Mary Calmes
With George #2
George Hunt is certain that spending time with his boyfriend’s family over the holidays will be a disaster. How can it not? For starters, he knows nothing about families, never having had one, as for the rest…talk about pressure. What if he messes up, says the wrong thing, and ends up losing the most important person in his life? Dr. Kurt Butler is his miracle; George can’t afford any missteps. But if he’s careful and does everything right, perhaps they’ll see his good qualities instead of the lethal ones.
Sometimes, though, fate lets you put your best foot forward, and George gets to show off how handy he is to have around when bullets start flying. If he can keep everyone alive long enough to do some wintering, maybe he’ll discover that a family is something worth having after all.
George Hunt truly is the star of this holiday novella. Obviously he was the main focus of Just George as well but we also had Hannah Kage and as she is nearly as a big of a trouble magnet as her father, Jory Kage, she has an unwitting tendency to draw the readers attention away from anything else around her😉. That's not a bad thing, as a matter of fact it was a brilliant way for us to get sucked into George's journey.
I got sidetracked there. Let's talk George Hunt and the man who owns his heart, Dr. Kurt Butler in Wintering George . . .
George and Kurt are just as great together in their established relationship as they were when they first were thrown together in Just George. George is returning from an unexpected mission, who am I kidding😉, all his missions are unexpected that just comes with the territory but he does it so well and he has a routine to unwind, to readjust, to regroup his mind and body after the action. Unfortunately as there was the typical SNAFU that comes with his profession he is unable to have his routine and has to fly straight to Kurt's family holiday. Despite not being able to let his mind and body come down as needed he is still the gentleman with the family meets but he also has the presence of mind to spot trouble as they near the family's home.
That's all the details you're getting from me as I don't want to spoil any of the possible mayhem that ensues. I will say it's not the family holiday that Kurt's sister and family planned but in the end it's the holiday they probably all needed the most. I know it sounds cryptic but no spoilers from me so cryptic is what you are getting😉.
George may not be a trouble magnet like the earlier mentioned Jory and Hannah Kage are but he does seem to have a knack of being in the wrong place, wrong time or perhaps more accurately stated: right place, right time considering his expertise in the area of mayhem.
For those who are looking for a heartwarming Xmassy tale, then don't be put off by the mayhem label because Wintering George definitely leaves you full of all the loving holiday feels. For those(like me) who enjoy a little danger to combat all the happy happy, Wintering is perfect for you too because there is a perfect blend of sweet and salty in this novella. If you only like reading about Christmas in December(possibly July for Xmas in July) then be sure and bookmark this tale so it doesn't get lost in 2024's additions to you TBR list.
One last note: if wondering, you don't have to read Just George first, Mary Calmes does a lovely job referencing how George and Kurt met so you won't be lost but I know I'm glad I read it, I just think I have a deeper heartfelt connection to both men having read it but it's not a must.
ONE
It was a mistake.
From the jump, I should have said no.
The first year we were together, I wasn’t ready, and I had assured him, no worries. You go ahead with your plans for the holidays. Go see your sister and her family in Portland. Take the dogs. I would be fine. My little black cat and I could do Christmas alone. And it would be good. Beelzebub—Bubs, for short—and I would be just great.
Kurt Butler, the man I was crazy about, laughed at me, then took my face in his hands and kissed me until I couldn’t think about anything but getting him into bed. “No, baby. I would never leave you.”
I loved that he put me first. It said a lot.
It didn’t end up mattering, though, because right before Christmas, I was deployed. So he took the dogs and my cat to Portland with him because clearly, he was a glutton for punishment. I told him he could leave Bubs and I’d send Hannah, my minion, over to watch him, but he wasn’t having that. He took the demon with him because he loved my stupid cat too.
So this year, there was no question. Of course I would go. I had to go even if it was going to give me hives. I had to go even if just thinking about it was making me nauseous. I really hoped that whatever I did, or whatever way I acted, wouldn’t be the end of us.
That was what scared me the most. I didn’t want to push him away, but I feared that him seeing me through the lens of his family would only be bad for me.
Family.
The hell did I know about family? The closest I ever came were the guys in my unit. It was why I was still a reservist. I would not, could not, let them go into combat situations without me. And I wasn’t the best at my job, but I was better than others I currently knew would take my place if I took myself off the board. The difference being, the men I went into life-and-death situations with knew and trusted me. Kurt’s family didn’t know me, and the worst thing I could think of was that they’d find me lacking. The problem was, there were more things wrong with me than right, and I could own that.
I didn’t share easily. I had to trust you before I gave up anything remotely close to my heart. I could be stoically quiet for no good reason other than I had nothing substantive to add to a conversation, and I wasn’t great about change. Like, at all. And while those things didn’t sound so horrible in my head when I listed them, in real life, not talking, not sharing anecdotes or wanting to “go with the flow” were not great things to be. I was not an easy person to love, but Kurt hadn’t noticed yet. He didn’t see my many flaws. What if being with the people who loved him opened his eyes? Suddenly he’d realize I wasn’t much of a catch. I couldn’t have that. My only recourse was to make sure they adored me. The inherent problem there being that whatever the opposite of a people person was, that was me.
“Stop worrying,” Kurt told me over the phone. “My sister’s going to love you.”
I scoffed. “Why would I be worried?”
He chuckled, not buying it at all. “I adore you, and so will my family.”
The thing was, when he used that word—family—I wanted to be what he thought of first. And that was ridiculous. How was he supposed to know that when I’d never said anything like that to him? Ever.
This was what came from being a total shit at communication.
Kurt’s sister, Thomasin—a name I’d never heard before in my life—and her husband and two kids were the only real family Kurt had. Their mother had walked out on them when Kurt was seven and Thomasin five, leaving them with an abusive, alcoholic father. Now, as an adult, Kurt understood why she had to leave—or said he did—but at the time, the abandonment cut deep. He and his sister navigated violence and uncertainty for years until Kurt got a job at fifteen at a grocery store, stocking on the overnight shift. Thomasin was allowed to stay in the manager’s office while he worked. She got snacks, could sleep on the couch, and most importantly, it was warm and safe. When she was old enough, she got a job there as well, and the two of them got a miracle when Kurt was a junior and his boss helped him file paperwork to become an emancipated minor. Then at eighteen, Kurt received a full ride to Emerson College in Texas, and Thomasin got a scholarship to finish her high school at a boarding school in New York. It changed the lives of the two St. Paul, Minnesota, teenagers, and they both made the best of their opportunities.
In Texas, Kurt smoked a lot of weed, slept with a lot of girls, talked to his little sister every Saturday, and brought her to live with him each summer in the house he shared with his roommate. Along the way, after an unrequited crush on a friend opened his eyes to the fact that he was bisexual, Kurt got to sleep with even more people. He enjoyed that quite a bit. He always said he was an aimless whore in college, but he took care of his sister, so I always stuck up for his younger self. When Thomasin got a full ride to Brown, no one was prouder than Kurt.
Now, his sister was a celebrity life coach, had one of the top podcasts in the country, and had three bestselling books to her name that told people how to overcome demons. Not the fire-and-brimstone kind, but personal ones that stunted growth, triggered pain and depression, kept you from goals, and lied to you about your own value. I thought it was all stupid, and because I’d promised never to lie to Kurt, I said nothing. Better to keep my feelings to myself.
With Thomasin becoming wildly successful and Kurt himself an in-demand psychiatrist, both had enough money to fund their dream homes. For Kurt, it was an open-concept, airy-but-cozy, three-bedroom, two-bathroom house with lots of windows on a beautiful, secluded street in Chicago, where his backyard backed up to a nature preserve. For Thomasin, it was a mansion with spectacular mountain views down a private drive in Portland, Oregon. The place had five bedrooms and six bathrooms, so there was more than enough room for us to spend our holidays there. No Airbnb needed.
We had plans to fly out together on a chartered plane, with his two dogs and my cat—the jet being yet another perk their wealth afforded them. But then I was deployed after Thanksgiving.
Kurt was miserable, thinking we were having a repeat of the year prior. I had just gotten back in mid-October from a short stint, so the fact that I was going again so soon was a surprise.
“I do like my alone time,” he told me the night before as he watched me pack with hungry eyes, “but this is getting ridiculous.”
Having been briefed on the op, I assured him I would be home for the holidays.
He didn’t look convinced, and really, there was nothing I could say to convince him. The mission was classified. I couldn’t share that my unit was off to extract a Polish journalist working in Belarus, who’d been illegally detained. If I had told him, Kurt—who was a smart man—would’ve known we had no right to be in Minsk. He’d be terrified for me and rightly so. A Black Ops team was not supposed to be there, and if caught, we were all dead. It was one of those times where if we were captured, our government would deny any knowledge of us and claim we were mercenaries and acting on our own, perhaps hired by the family of the reporter we were there to save. If I had related a word of what I knew, Kurt would have begged me not to go. But I had no choice. My team needed me, and I would not, under any circumstances, have him worry while I was gone. So I did the only thing I could, which was assure him my op would be a quick one.
Technically, that part was true. On paper, it was a simple extraction. Pick up target, get target out of country. Snatch and grab that I could do in my sleep. Of course, our intel was for shit, everything from the maps to the checkpoints were compromised, and only because I had my own network and knew some good people in Lubelskie, which was where we crossed into Poland, did we make it out. The thing was, it took longer than it was supposed to, three weeks in total. Kurt ended up having to fly out without me.
But now, getting off the plane in Portland two days before Christmas, from how excited he was on the phone the night before, I knew I’d made him happy. It was all that mattered.
As Poznan, where I’d flown out of, was nine hours ahead, by the time I was walking through the terminal toward the arrival area, I was dead on my feet. The thing was, I’d had to get a military transport out of Poznan to New York, and when you flew that way, you caught whatever flight was available. It was their timetable, not yours. I really wanted to make a good impression on his family, but I was both sleep-deprived and starving, not at all a winning combination.
As I had no luggage, just my Army duffel, I headed toward where it said ground transport was and called Kurt.
“Hey,” he greeted me, answering on the second ring. “We parked, and we’re on the way to baggage claim to meet you.”
First off, we? I hadn’t slept in four days, I was bruised—nothing broken though it felt like it—and with no food, greeting others was a mistake. Of course, since this was the first time I’d spoken to him, other than the quick I’m on my way when I called earlier, there was no way for him to know I wasn’t ready for a meet-and-greet. But what annoyed me was that he knew better. He knew me. And he certainly understood that when I’d just gotten off a plane after a mission was not the time for introductions of any kind.
“Well, I’m headed to where all the taxis are because I don’t have anything but my duffel, so there’s no baggage to get.”
“Oh, that’s right,” he groaned. “Crap.”
Immediately, I felt bad because Kurt running himself down, for any reason, bothered me. He was such a kind man, and I told him that often. “It’s fine. I’ll wait inside. Just come back up the stairs; I’ll be right there.”
“Okay, perfect,” he said with a sigh. “I can’t wait to see you.”
I wished I looked a bit better, but I was in my ACUs, my Army Combat Uniform, and my field jacket that was not as clean as I would have liked it to be. Seemed like good first impressions were out the window, and I felt bad about that. I hoped they weren’t huggers either, because yes, I’d been medically cleared at the base in Poznan once the op was done, but I had fresh stitches and bruises. Being squeezed, by anyone but Kurt, could be uncomfortable.
Standing there, waiting, I thought of all the times no one had been there to get me, and reminded myself that this was a blessing, having someone like Kurt in my life, someone who showed up. I had to stop being a prick, being selfish, just thinking about myself. And I could. I would. Because he was worth it.
“George!”
Turning, I saw Kurt rushing through the crowd—or trying to, with so many people blocking his way. He stopped moving, lifted his finger to signal for me to wait a moment, and then finally threw up his arms in frustration. I couldn’t help smiling. The second there was an opening in the crowd, he bolted toward me.
It hurt a little when he collided with me, but it was worth it to feel his warm, muscular frame wedged close, his lips on the side of my neck, then my cheek, and finally, his mouth on mine as he kissed me once and then again.
“You missed me,” I whispered against his mouth when he leaned back with a whimper. Clearly, he wanted to go right on kissing me.
“I always miss you,” he replied hoarsely. “Are you hurt?”
“Do I look hurt?”
“It’s hard to tell,” he said before kissing me again.
“Let the man breathe, K,” a woman said with a laugh. She was a stunning blonde with the same gunmetal-gray eyes her brother had.
“Breathing isn’t necessary,” he assured her. “George, this is my sister, Thomasin, but you can call her Sin.”
Her smile was big as she stepped in close and offered me her hand. “Please don’t call me Sin. Thom is great, or Tommy as my friends do.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” I said softly, shaking her hand.
“This is my husband, Brad.” She let go of my hand so her handsome husband, who looked like the investment banker he was, leaned in to shake.
He was wearing a puffer vest, and so was she. They looked adorable, like they belonged in Town & Country Magazine, both crisp and polished, she in her brushed-leather Prada loafers, he in his Ferragamo driving ones. And as a rule, I didn’t know one pair of shoes from another, but Kurt was a brand-conscious guy and was slowly adding to my wardrobe from the shoes up. I now had both of those in my own closet and so recognized them. He liked me to have nice things, and I appreciated that. I’d been wary at first, thinking he needed a far richer partner than me, but it came down to him loving spoiling me, and that was all. But his sister and her husband were definitely in a different tax bracket than me, and it was more than evident in everything, from their shoes to his massive watch to her jewelry—an enormous diamond ring and several gold and precious-stone bracelets on her wrist. Neither was shopping at Target with me, that’s for sure. And that wasn’t a judgment, just an observation. And because of how those things would have sounded if I said them out loud, as a rule I made comments like that to very few people. Kurt and I weren’t there yet, even after two years. I didn’t want to lose him, so I was careful about everything I said.
But I shouldn’t have been, and I knew that. Beyond not saying anything unkind, I should have been able to speak my mind about anything I was thinking, especially since Kurt truly wanted to know. He wanted to learn everything about me.
“I worry about that,” I told him once.
“What?”
“Me telling you what’s in my head.”
“Why?”
Hard to explain that I worried about the fact that how I saw things wasn’t how other people did. And if Kurt and I weren’t aligned, was that it for us? Would he throw me away? “What if you disagree with me, or worse, think I’m psychotic or something?”
He chuckled. “I see.”
“Don’t laugh. I worry about this. I’m desensitized to some things, and I know that. I might not react how you think I should, and what if that’s a deal breaker?”
He nodded. “Maybe let’s wait and worry about that when the time comes.”
But what would happen if that time came?
Fears like that, and others, kept me from just blurting out my thoughts. I could, and did, with the guys in my unit. I never worried they’d think I was wired wrong. It was the same with my boss in the private sector where I worked now. I didn’t worry that if I responded differently than expected, I’d be ridiculed or second-guessed. It never occurred to me that a disagreement could lead to dismissal.
But with Kurt, I could mess up, and that might be the end of us. If I said something about his sister or her kids that he disagreed with, I had no safety net. The best thing, the smart thing, was to simply be better than myself. Be Stepford George. Just smile and be agreeable.
“George, you must be exhausted,” Thomasin said, smiling. “We should get you home and get some food in you, then let you rest before the festivities begin.”
I didn’t react, which I was very proud of myself for, since, again, no food plus no sleep normally equaled no filter.
“Let’s go,” Kurt said, lacing his fingers with mine, tugging gently to get me moving.
The car we walked to, a white Lexus SUV, had all the bells and whistles and was comfortable inside.
“Sin made her world-famous pot roast for you,” Kurt informed me, “which is much better than mine.”
“I dunno,” I said, grinning at him. “Yours is pretty good.”
“Oh dear God,” he groaned, leaning in close, his fingers brushing over the side of my neck. “You have bruises all over—”
“It’s fine,” I soothed him.
His sigh was heavy. “Do you have stitches?”
My gaze met his. “Don’t make a big—”
“It is a big deal,” he stated, and I saw Brad, who was driving, look at me in the rearview mirror before Thomasin turned around in her seat.
“My understanding is that you’re a sniper?”
“Yes.”
“I suspect, then, that my brother wonders how you got hurt.”
“No,” Kurt snapped at her, which surprised me. “I know how. He has to go in just like everyone else, and there’s always hand-to-hand combat at some—” He took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm himself. “I would just like to know how many new stitches.”
I grinned at him. “I dunno, honey, but you can count ’em later.”
Kurt’s breath caught, and those expressive eyes of his went dark and liquid, pupils blown that quickly with lust.
Thomasin’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, I wasn’t sure over what, but perhaps she wasn’t used to seeing her brother react physically to his partner.
Kurt watched me, eyes locked on my face as I lifted his hand, kissed the back of his knuckles, then lowered it back down to the seat, never once letting go of him.
“Everything is going to be fine,” I promised him.
From the way he was looking at me, he believed me.
Matter of Time
Sunday Short Stack
Marshals
Saturday Series Spotlight
Mary Calmes lives in Lexington, Kentucky, with her husband and two children and loves all the seasons except summer. She graduated from the University of the Pacific in Stockton, California, with a bachelor's degree in English literature. Due to the fact that it is English lit and not English grammar, do not ask her to point out a clause for you, as it will so not happen. She loves writing, becoming immersed in the process, and falling into the work. She can even tell you what her characters smell like. She loves buying books and going to conventions to meet her fans.
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