“European soccer,” she groaned, as if referring to her number one enemy in life. “Don’t ask.”
“Right.”
“Scissors,” his dad blurted. “I need scissors. And an extension cord,” he gulped.
“Mom, where did you put your book?” Cara smiled patiently.
“I uhm… I think I… Oh yes, on the shelf underneath the coffee table,” she said, nodding.
“Will you grab it, Finnie?” Cara smiled in a manner that was sure to make her cheeks hurt. Leaning forward, bringing Fenn with him, Finn reached and grabbed the only book on the shelf. Leaning back against the couch, he turned the paperback in his hands, taking in the cover, picturing a young man and woman in old-fashioned, possibly Victorian, clothing.Pantaloons and Petticoats,the title said. Definitely one of his mom’s romance books.
“Who’s Ellie Thomas?” he asked as he turned the book over and started reading on the back.
“No! Don’t get her started!” Cara yelled while his dad elicited a sound similar to a small rodent being squished a little too hard. With something like fatigue and… horror, perhaps, paintedacross their faces, they both seemed to map out the fastest escape route.
“What?” Finn chuckled, looking between the two of them, before his eyes landed on his mother, who looked just oneoaway from swooning. “Who is she?” he asked.
“Ellie Thomas?!” His mother beamed, a crimson red creeping across her cheeks that Finn suspected didn’t just stem from post-Christmas Light Gateexcitement. “Well, only the best Regency Romance novelist of our time!”
“Huh.” Finn nodded as if that made him any wiser as he continued reading from the back of the book. “What are pantaloons?” He frowned. A deep, tortured groan slipped from his father’s mouth as he clung to the flashlight for dear life.
“Really, Finn? Really?!” Cara shot daggers at him. “You suddenly have an all-consuming urge to know what goddamn pantaloons are?” she hissed between her teeth. “Just hand me the book.” She held out her right hand, wiggling her fingers in the universal gesture forgimme.
“Ohhh, it’s about two dudes?” Finn grinned stupidly because he hadn’t seen that coming, but suddenly the book got a lot more interesting.
“Finnie, for the love of…” Cara continued to wiggle her fingers between them. “Just hand me the mother—” A rapid succession of loud knocks sounded from the front door, then a short pause, and then an additional knock.
“Santa!” Fenn yelled from Finn’s lap, jumping up, his son’s penetrating voice throwing Harry wide awake. Looking slightly confused, Harry frowned at Cara, because only this morning they’d all agreed that he was going to be Santa. “It’s Santa, Daddy!” the child's shrill voice rang through the house like a thousand rodents on crack. “He’s early. I didn’t even get the milk and cookies yet.”
Chapter Forty-One
Hank
Now
“You’re not Santa.”
Nope, he was definitely not Santa. He’d been referred to as many things in life, but never as Santa. Hank tilted his head, looking at the house number on the polished brass plate next to the front door, but he was in the right place. No doubt about it.
“Hi there,” Hank offered in his mostI’m-not-a-creepy-old-guy-just-an-old-guyvoice. The kid, who looked mean despite rocking PJs covered with pigs, threw him a critical look, scrunching his nose, like he wasn’t at all convinced that Hank wasn’t about to do a home invasion of some sort.
“Fenn, sweetheart, didn’t I tell you not to open the door when you don’t know who it is?” A middle-aged woman with near-black hair appeared at the boy’s side, patting his dark head of curls fondly. No question the two of them were related; their eyes were the same shade of blue as well.
“But how can I know who it is before I open the door?” The kid sighed overbearingly, his logic leaving a tired expression on the older woman’s face. Then she decided on the path that generations of adults had chosen before her when unable to meet a child’s logic with a satisfactory reply. Crouching in front of the child, she smiled knowingly,deflectwritten all over her face.
“Weren’t you and Granddad supposed to get cookies and milk for Santa?”
“Oh yeah, I totally forgot.” The kid looked bewildered for a second before turning on his heel, testing his lungs as far as they would go. “Granddaaaddd?! Granddaaaddd?!” As he sprinted off, the woman rose with a wince, her smile to Hank curious yet friendly.
“Hi,” she spoke softly. “Can I help you?” Hank swallowed because, of course, it had been highly unlikely that it would be Finn answering the door. And even though he’d rehearsed how this was going to go down several times today, no one could really prepare you for standing in front of a stranger who was probably Finn’s mother. And—if he was going to take a wild guess—around his own age.Shit.No, they didn’t hand out manuals for this kind of scenario at the Home Depot.
“Yes, sorry for the intrusion, ma’am,” he forced out, hoping his voice didn’t fail him now. Shifting on his feet, the brutal ocean wind biting at his neck, he slowly counted to three internally, willing his senses to work with him on this. “I was wondering if Finn was here?”
“Finn?” the woman repeated, a frown appearing between her dark brows. Then something seemed to dawn on her, recognition flashing in her eyes as she blushed slightly. “Oh, yes, Finn,” she repeated, the smile returning, even brighter this time. “Of course. Of course.” She held up a finger. “Just a second. I’ll get him for you.” She turned on her heel, then stopped short, looking over her shoulder. “Don’t go anywhere.” She sent Hank a look that could only be described as a polite warning.
“Thank you,” Hank murmured at her retreating figure. So, Finn must’ve told her something for her to react this way.Oh shit.Rubbing his glove-covered hands together, he started pacing the wooden deck, nearly stumbling over a large cardboard box overspilling with Christmas lights. Looking around, taking in his surroundings in the weak, early afternoon sun, he noticed that the entire front of the house screamed Christmas and seasonal spirit.Damnit.What was he thinking? He wasn’t, and that was the problem, wasn’t it? Here he was, walking in on a strange family the day before Christmas with no plan, no nothing. Then his eyes started swimming, Finn’s words washing over him, reminding him once again why he was here. Why he needed to be here.
‘We aren’t selfish people, Hank, although, at times, I wish we were. Our love—because itislove—is not a selfish one.’ He was here for Finn. Because Finn had asked him to come. Well, that was part of it. He realized he was here for himself, too. Because for once in a very long time, he, too, felt like being selfish. Doing something that was just for him and no one else. And, although at first, because it had felt like a betrayal to Eugene, Hank had hesitated until he, too, had recognized it for what it was. This thing between them. This feeling dwelling in his heart at all hours of the day, lingering on his lips before he would even fully wake in the morning, accompanying him long into the evening as the world grew dark and quiet.Tooquiet.
