I look down at the pile of presents I just pulled from the taxi and have to blink hard to keep from crying all over again. I was told Christmas would be tomorrow…the day after Christmas…because everyone would be exhausted from the fundraiser and needed a day to clean up and breathe.
My plan was simple. Drop off the gifts today so I wouldn’t have to worry about it tomorrow.
Instead, here I stand with my arms full of presents…and there they are, already celebrating.
“Hey, Abby-girl,” Mike says from the gate’s security box. “You’re late.”
“I came to drop these off so I didn’t have to carry them, plus the food. I thought we weren’t doing this until tomorrow?” I ask, gesturing to the group.
Mike is… Mike. He doesn’t always think before he speaks, which is usually how he ends up on gate duty.
“They changed their minds,” he says with a frown. “Maverick has to leave tonight to go do whatever shit the leader of an Italian mafia does on Christmas, and they didn’t want him to miss this. Didn’t you get the message last night?”
“I must’ve overlooked it,” I lie smoothly. “I’ve been so busy I hardly ever check my phone.”
I shift the bags in my arms and place them on the ground next to the others. “Listen, I need to head back to the shop. Can you give these to everyone? Yours is in there somewhere, too.”
“Abby, wait,” he says. “Are you okay?”
“Never better,” I lie again, climbing back into the waiting taxi. “Merry Christmas, Mikey.”
I shut the door, the car pulls away, and I will myself not to cry as a stranger drives me back to my apartment, where I spend Christmas exactly the way I’ve been living lately.
Alone.
Chapter Four
Tank
“This one is from us,” Lila says, handing me a neatly wrapped box.
“Thanks,” I mutter, adding it to my pile. They all know I’ll open everything later. Christmas was never really my favorite holiday. No real reason…it just never meant much to me until this family came along.
“This is from me,” Bree says proudly. “It’s a rock I painted.”
I smile and open it right away so she can see. Bree claps her hands and launches herself at me, slamming into my chest with a hug way too fucking strong for such a tiny girl.
“I love it,” I tell her honestly, turning the painted rock over in my hands. “I’ll add it to my collection.”
Yep. Collection.
Bree keeps bringing me painted rocks, and every single one matters because she spent her time making them for me.
I look around at my family as gifts are handed out and torn open. It takes nearly three hours before everything is done, and it’s finally time to clean up.
I’m fucking exhausted.
Maverick announced late last night that he’d be leaving after the fundraiser, and Riley lost her damn mind. She didn’t want him missing Christmas, so Spike made the call last minute that we’d celebrate today, no matter how wiped out we all were.
The fundraiser had been for Harvest for the Hungry. They pour thousands into feeding families every year, especially around the holidays. Foster’s idea to host a carnival inside the compound turned out to be a massive success.
Still.
I’m beat.
“I’m heading to bed,” I announce once the trash is cleared. “Might not wake up for a couple days. Don’t freak out.”
“Wait,” someone calls.
