Loss was never easy, but after seeing them together and recognizing how their relationship made him who he was, I couldn’t imagine the pain he felt. I hated it for him. I wanted to do something to make it easier, but how could I? We were people who passed each other in the elevator or in the little room or, on occasion, getting hot cocoa. We weren’t friends and hadn’t even said hello.
I figured he’d get better, that he would be happier with time. And within six months, to an outsider, he probably looked like he was, but it never reached his eyes. And the next year as Christmas approached, it got worse again. It broke my heart.
“Hey, what are you thinking about?” Hudson put his hand on my shoulder, bringing me back to where I was supposed to be, which wasn’t thinking about someone who was basically a stranger.
“Oh, sorry.” I grabbed the cocoas off the counter. “Let’s go.”
We drove to Scottie’s in silence and it was no surprise to me that after I parked, Hudson started back with his questions. He was a good friend and meant well, but I wasn’t sure this was a conversation we should be having. It wasn’t exactly like I had permission from Vaughn to share my observations.
“No. Seriously, Gunner, what’s up?”
“If you knew that there was someone who was really sad because it was the holidays, and holidays weren’t good for them, and you wanted to do something to make them happy, what would you do?” There. Generic and benign.
“Well, that depends. What do you guys normally do together?”
“Hudson, this is a hypothetical.” Or at least I was pretending it was.
“Yeah, whatever. Just tell me to mind my business.”
“Fine. I’ve never met them. I just see them at work.” It was a half-truth. “He had a traumatic Christmas a couple of Christmases ago. Last year, I could see it was rough, and this year, it’s looking that way again.”
“Well, that’s simple, then. Be his Secret Santa.”
“You think?” I could do that. It was easy peasy to give someone little bits of holiday cheer.
“Yeah, of course! Everybody likes a Secret Santa.”
Scottie was at the door waiting for us in his monster-truck jams.
“Cocoa!” he squeed and bounded into the kitchen.
“I guess we are drinking our cocoa before going up to play,” Hudson teased, and the two of us went in to join him.
Scottie had pulled out some “little” mugs and, after I devoured my whipped cream, I poured my cocoa into a Lego one. Everything tasted better wrapped in fun.
“Why do you look so serious, Gunner? It’s a playdate.”
If I’d thought I’d get past Scottie, I was wrong. He was just as observant as Hudson when he was big. When he was little? He noticed nothing then.
“He’s trying to win some guy’s heart.”
“I’m not trying to win Vaughn’s heart. I’m just—” I stopped midsentence. Crap. Vaughn knew Bridger, I’d seen them together numerous times and I’d already mentioned something happened to him. There was no way of avoiding him connecting the dots now.
“No way!” Hudson looked far too pleased with himself. “Well, that changes everything. We need to make a plan.”
Santa, help me.
Chapter Three
Vaughn
It’s not really a Christmas event.
Bridger had been very insistent on the topic when he told me about the fundraiser for fosters aging out of the system. A member of Chained was a founder of the group, and it was an opportunity to help out some of society’s most vulnerable members. Sure, it was being held in December and the place would no doubt be decked to the very rafters of the halls, but the reason for the event was not to celebrate the holidays or get toys for kids or anything. It was bigger than that. Funds raised would be used to help the organization get young people who aged out of the system on their feet.
“Can’t I just make a donation?” I asked my friend who had lured me out for a lunch at my favorite ramen place with the ulterior motive of convincing me to go to the club for a particular fundraiser.
“I suppose you could,” Bridger said. “And it would be appreciated, but we are hoping to get a big turnout, especially among our professional members. Didn’t you contribute hours to that organization last year?”
