"Yeah."
"Three days is too long."
Fuck. There it is, that feeling again."Yeah."
We lie in silence, the sounds from the movie downstairs filtering up through the floorboards. Someone's laughing too loudly and then getting shushed. The world continues as if we didn't completely wreck each other.
"I should clean up," he says eventually, making no move to actually do so.
"In a minute."
His arms tighten around me. "Yeah. In a minute."
We stay like that, tangled together. I don't want to be the first to let go. Because tomorrow he leaves, and I'll be here, and three days suddenly sounds like fucking forever.
"I should go back to packing," he murmurs after a while, making no move to leave.
"Don't." My arms tighten around him. "One more minute."
He falls asleep before that minute is up, his breathing evening out as his body relaxes completely against mine. I stay awake, watching him sleep, memorizing how his eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks and how his usual guarded expression disappears when he sleeps.
The thought of him leaving tomorrow lodges like a stone low in my gut. It's only three days, I remind myself. Not even a whole week. Nothing to worry about.
So why does it feel like something bad is going to happen?
Because it probably is. Everyone leaves…
I push the thought away, focusing instead on the present, his weight in my arms, the rhythm of his breathing. Whatever comes next, we'll figure it out together. Even if we haven't said exactly what it will be, this thing between us is stronger than a few days apart.
It is… Shut the fuck up, brain…
Chapter 23
Santa Baby, Slip a Bribe Under the Tree
JAMES
Afeeling of being watched drags me awake. One of my eyes opens slowly. Caleb is already dressed in pressed slacks and a button-down, sitting upright and staring more intensely than usual.
"Morning?" my voice still rough with sleep.
"Don't go to Rainbow House today," he says abruptly.
Sit up on my elbows, more awake now. "What?"
"Come with me." His voice is steady, but there's something underneath it, something almost like fear. "To my parents' house."
The words don't make sense. "You want me to come to your family's house for Christmas Day?"
"My brothers bring their girlfriends or wives every year. Why can't I bring you?" There's a defensiveness to his tone that tells me he's been thinking about this for a while.
"Because you gave me zero notice?" My fingers rake through my hair. "Because I have nothing to wear to what I assume is a formal Huntington family Christmas?"
"Your clothes are great, and we can pack you quickly enough." He reaches for my hand, his fingers curling aroundmine with surprising urgency. "Please, James. I don't want to face them alone this year."
And there it is, the vulnerability he rarely shows. I've never seen Caleb ask for help like this or admit he needs someone. The thought hits me hard: he's scared of going home.
"Okay," before I can overthink it. "But if your mother closes the door in my face, I'm blaming you entirely."
