And so far, no one has found the missing federal agent, Dorian Chase. If they had, there would have been a lot of chatter in our small town. Jackal and Shade drive by the abandoned warehouses occasionally, and it’s never been cordoned off.
Eventually, the smell will give him away.
If the FBI knows one of their own is missing, it hasn’t become a newsworthy event.
And Wren has spent their time recuperating and removing every last trace of themself off the internet. With Calista and some of their friends’ help, Wren has been wiped off the Most Wanted and all travel advisory lists.
“You planning to sleep through Christmas?” I ask, rubbing circles on their back.
They crack one eye open and look up at me. “Sucking on you wore me out.”
I chuckle at that. “Good. I liked it. Feel free to do it again.”
The silence that follows isn’t awkward. It’s heavy with contentment. That somehow, in spite of everything, we’ve earned the quiet.
Eventually, I make a move, disentangling myself from Wren’s hold, my limbs reluctant to leave them behind. “Christmas is my favorite holiday, so you better get that firm ass moving before I bite it.”
“Not sure I want to move yet,” they grunt into the pillow, but eventually they roll to the edge of the bed. “I’ll go make coffee while you clean up.”
“Fine.” I take their hand and help them stand. “Go make coffee. But don’t open any presents until I get there.”
They pull one of my Iron Outlaw hoodies over their head and pad barefoot to the kitchen. I watch their ass sway until they disappear down the stairs, and then I deal with cleanup.
I’m gonna need a shower before we collect Mom and then head over to Willa and the kids’ house for Christmas dinner, but for now, I just tug on some jeans and a clean Henley.
When I reach the kitchen, there’s an odd-looking dome-shaped gift on the counter.
“Ta-da!” Wren says as the coffee pot gurgles and bubbles.
“What’s that?”
“Your first gift.” Wren is grinning, like, genuinely smiling, and it does my heart good. The bags are much reduced from beneath their eyes.
I tear the paper off and inside is a cake case. I lift the plastic lid off and?—
“Is that red velvet?”
It’s awkwardly frosted, slightly off center, and unmistakably homemade.
“When I said I was going to hang out with Jackal and Shade yesterday, I lied. I snuck into Quinn’s, and with her help, I made it for you.”
I blink. Twice. “You…baked for me?”
They shrug. “Don’t sound so shocked. And don’t get used to it. I’m not a natural, as you can see.”
My heart nearly beats out of my chest. I don’t even care what’s in the gifts Wren placed under the tree two days ago. “You baked?”
Wren hands me a knife and plate. “Are you going to keep repeating that, or do you want to cut a slice and try it?”
I take the knife and cut a slice before putting the plate between us. “This is amazing, sweetheart.”
Wren looks nervous, suddenly. “I hope so. But I apologize in advance if it tastes like crap or makes you sick. Quinn’s was so perfectly round and smoothly iced. This looks like a toddler did it.”
I chuckle at that. “I’m sure it’s gonna taste great.”
I grab a fork out of the drawer and take a bite. It’s sweet, rich, a little messy. “Best damn cake I ever had.”
Wren takes a small forkful and puts it into their mouth like it’s poison. Then, their face changes. “Oh my God. It might look like a train wreck, but it doesn’t taste like one.”
