Snow crunchesunderfoot as we walk, the lights and Christmas decorations outside the small farmhouse like a beacon up ahead. Hendrix and I tossed the bodies into the back of the Escalade for Drako’s men to get rid of. By morning, you wouldn’t know anything had happened. His crew is thorough and will even dig up the blood-stained dirt and incinerate it along with everything else.
“I want Andie in on this,” Syn says.
I like Andie and her guys, Keane especially. After the gala when Syn burned the compound to the ground, we’ve kept in touch. Our personalities are similar, so it’s been easy to become friends with him.
“Michael is mine.”
She glances up at me, snowflakes clinging to her hair. “He killed Katalina. I promised her that if she ever needed me, I would be there. I owe her.”
Syn’s big, beautiful heart is a force to be reckoned with. Michael just came afterher. Tried to killher. But her first thought is for a woman she barely knew, who used to be her somewhat rival for Tristan.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You’re pregnant.”
She full-belly laughs. “Being pregnant doesn’t make me an invalid.”
I look at Hendrix for help.
“I don’t want to be sleeping on the couch for the next month if I agree with you.”
She punches him in the arm. “Hey!”
Changing the subject because I’m not going to let her anywhere near Michael, no matter what she says, I ask, “What is your favorite memory of Christmas here?”
There is so much of her life I don’t know but am eager to get a glimpse of. Aoife and Syn are complete opposites in many ways, even though their foundations, the core of their souls and their hearts, are the same. It’s weird thinking about her as two different people, but that’s exactly what happened. When she lost her memories, she woke up as someone else. She’s been trying to reconcile the two ever since her memories came back.
Syn’s face lights up at my question. “Honestly? I wouldn’t be able to pick a favorite. Alana made every Christmas special for me. We’d bake, make crafts, take long walks, roast marshmallows under the stars, sing carols, and camp out in the living room on Christmas Eve while we watched cheesy Hallmark movies until we fell asleep. She’d pile presents under the tree for me to unwrap on Christmas morning, always saying they were from Santa, even though I was too old to believe in him anymore. We’d make Christmas tacos for dinner and write Christmas wishes on paper stars and hang them on the tree. Simple things, really, but they meant the world to me. How about you? Do you have a favorite Christmas memory?”
Snuggling with Mama while we watchedIt’s a Wonderful Life.
I shake off the melancholy. “Not really.”
Her smile disappears, the corners of her mouth curving down. “Then we’ll have to make sure to make this one special.”
I’m here with her. It’s already special—not counting the dead bodies.
Syn rubs her hands together to ward off the cold because she forgot to grab a coat or gloves when she left the house. I start to slip off my jacket for her to wear, but Hendrix’s possessive ass sees my intention and quickly wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to his side. She tucks her right hand into his jacket pocket, then hooks her left hand under my arm and reels me in.
“Hot guy sandwich,” she says.
Hendrix side-eyes me with a glare, but keeps his mouth shut, for once.
The farmhouse is lit up in a multicolored chaos of string lights that wrap around the roofline, the porch, and every tree in the front yard. I chuckle when I see the five-foot tall inflatable Santa rooster.
“Home sweet home,” Syn says, not letting go of my arm as we squeeze up the porch steps.
A Christmas wreath made of pine boughs and decorated with red and gold ornaments and candy canes hangs from the dark-blue painted door, and an old-fashioned porch swing creaks lazily on its chains as the wind blows snow flurries onto the veranda.
Syn opens the door, and I’m immediately hit with warmth infused with the delicious aromas of cinnamon and chocolate.
“This is where I grew up,” she says for my benefit as I get my first glimpse of the interior. There’s nothing grandiose or fancy about this place. It’s simple and rustic.Home. This is a home, well-lived in and well-loved.
As soon as we cross the threshold, I’m pounced on by an exuberant Dierdre. “Merry Christmas Eve! I’m going to be a grandma!” she exclaims and attempts to plop a Santa hat on top of my head, but I’m too tall for her to reach.
Hendrix takes it and slips it over Syn’s head. “I’ll go make you some hot cocoa.” He kisses her lips, then kisses the tips of his fingers and touches her stomach. “Does my baby girl want extra marshmallows?”
