“It’s ugly as sin. One thing’s for sure, neither of those fuckheads would’ve been interior decorators.”
“I want to know how they inflated the damn Snoopy.”
Voices come from outside, and I peek out the window. “Fuck me sideways.”
“What?”
“They cut down a tree.” I laugh so hard, I cough. Never expected this is what they’d be up to, nor did I think I’d see them struggle to drag the Eastern Hemlock. “Let’s go take care of the deer, pretend we didn’t see this.”
We sneak out the back door and cut what we can from the carcasses. After we’re done, we head back in, not caring if the two knuckleheads are done with theirsurprise. Of course, they’re arguing ‘bout something.
“What the hell happened to my house?” I feign surprise, and Rex does his damndest to act shocked. Luckily, we have a reprieve since the boys are in the other room.
Making our way into the living room, we lose it at the lopsided tree about to fall right out of the stand.
“Told you it wasn’t straight.” Cal punches Devon in the shoulder, who just sniggers and plops down on the couch.
“You made me cut the thing, not my fault I’m seeing funny.” He yawns, and while he does so dramatically, he can’t fool me. He’s clearly beat from all the work.
Cal rolls his eyes and throws his hands up. “Get over it. I told you to wear gloves so you wouldn’t get blisters. But you don’t want to listen.”
Rex groans and sits next to Devon, inspecting his hands. I walk over and help Cal fix the tree. “Wasn’t expecting this, but . . . I’m glad you two did it.”
Cal smiles wide, his cheeks turning red. I’d seen him in the past decorate his house a little when he was alone. Broke my heart a little.
Wonder if his family used to go all out like this? And if it makes him happy . . . I don’t care if my damn house turns into Christmas vomit, I’ll help set it up like this every year.
But the two shoot each other a look, and I get the feeling whatever they planned isn’t done.
Devon gets up first, followed by Cal, and they disappear upstairs, returning a moment later with goddamn gifts.
Rex looks at me, his face as void of blood as mine feels. Yeah, can’t remember the last time we celebrated a real Christmas.Most of the time we were deployed so forget the decorations and gifts, we were just lucky to be alive.
But seeing them carry—and drop—boxes that are wrapped feels weird. And it also makes me feel like shit because neither of us got them anything. Well, scavenged anything for them.
Rex leans closer. “What the fuck did they wrap?”
“Not sure I want to know.”
“Is it even Christmas?”
I shrug. “No fuckin’ clue. Think we can convince them it’s still early, so we don’t look like a bag of dicks.”
“They found a way to punish us.” Rex slumps lower. “He’s going to make me die early. I’m telling you.”
“Blah, blah, and fucking blah, old man.” Devon drops three boxes by the tree that are wrapped in what looks like chart paper.
Cal places his boxes nicely, then comes to sit on my lap. “It’s the first time I have someone to celebrate with other than myself in four years. Hope it’s okay.”
I pull him closer and kiss him. “It’s fine. We’re only teasing. Give us a few days to find you two something.”
“What are you gonna find that we haven’t already combed through?” Devon’s brow arches.
Little shit has to ruin everything.
Rex flicks his ear. “Don’t think you know everything, smart ass.”
The rest of the day is spent decorating the tree, and Rex and I come up with the bright—well, not so bright—idea of giving the two their own guns.
