Until he’sgone, and I’m alone on Cosmic Avenue with my metaphorical dick in my hand.
My actual dick stays in my hand all night long. I don’t come, but I’m so hard I think I might shatter if I mess with it too much. So I close my eyes and think of Galen until the sun comes up, and by the time dawn rolls around, I look like I’ve spent the night on the sniff.
Red eyes.
Sallow skin.
Restless energy coursing through me that has me pacing Tam’s kitchen, thankful he’s out and Bhodi has to deal with me instead.
My brother’s husband is the sweetest soul on earth. He doesn’t accuse me of relapsing after half a decade of sobriety.
He makes me breakfast while I dance to Noir Désir with Esme, and stops Rudy mauling my shoes.
Bhodi cooks like an Englishman.
Bacon and bread.
Red sauce that belongs in the bin.
It’s not the ham-and-cheese croissants I can sink by the half dozen, but I’m not complaining. How can I when Bhodi is the best Christmas gift we’ve ever got?
I share my sandwich with Esme. She’s a little weirdo who likes the crusts. The cutest little weirdo with ketchup on her face. “You have strong teeth, my sweet girl.”
She laughs and babbles something closer to gibberish than the mishmash of languages she’s picked up from me and Tam. Then she wipes ketchup on my face and I guess that’s what I get for not putting her down since I rocked up an hour ago and interrupted cartoon time with Uncle Bhodi.
I set her on the floor to chase Rudy around while I dash upstairs to wash my face. Should be an in-and-out job, but like so many things recently, I find my attention diverted before I’m done.
Tam used to be a hooligan biker, but he’s a calligrapher these days. Fancy writing turned into the kind of art that has Christmas paying the mortgage all year round. He’s so fucking good, it’s hard to believe his tatted hands used to be more at home in petrol and grime. So hard, I’m caught off guard by his work on a regular basis. By his skill and the sheer quantity he churns out at this time of year. Boxes and boxes of hand-drawn greetings cards fill the landing.
I poke around in a few.
Get nosy and sniff around his studio.
His order list is wild.
I snap a picture and go back to Bhodi in time to help him rescue Rudy from Esme. “Thought we’d agreed Tam wasn’t going to work himself into a coma this year?”
Bhodi glances at my phone screen and purses his lips.
I arch a brow. “What? You have nothing to say about it?”
“I have plenty to say about it. And I’ve said it. Tohim.”
“Aw, Bhodi. I thought we were partners in this?”
As in, stopping my brother collapsing with exhaustion every Christmas. And me and Bhodi, we have our tag-team system down. I’m so annoying Tam gives it up to get rid of me, and Bhodi…actually, I don’t want to think about what Bhodi does to distract Tam from working himself into the ground. I’ve got into trouble for that before.
Withmyself, not Tam.
And not because I have dirty thoughts about Bhodi.
Anymore.
My brain runs away from me again, rerouting to the dirty thoughts Ihavehad recently. Fantasies without a face until I met Galen. Until I felt his body heat and smelled his skin. Until I kissed him.
Untilhekissedme.
I can still feel his hand on my jaw. I rub my fingers through the thickening scruff there, regarding Bhodi while I claw back what I’m trying to say to him about my workaholic big brother. “He overdid it last year.”
