The holidays are always a perfect storm—an open window into how other people live, loving their families and celebrating together. I watch it all while an icy wind whips around me, a constant reminder that my own family will never be like this.
It’s early evening as we walk up to the house, Braxton’s arm hooked around mine, and my phone a heavy,silentweight in my pocket.
“You okay, baby?” he murmurs as we reach the front step. His concern is palpable, but I don’t look at him, not wanting him to realize how badly my parents’ treatment still gets to me.
“I’m fine.” I squeeze his arm. “Not sure I can eat another bite after the feast your mother put on, but I’m good.” I glance up just as he frowns, unconvinced, but the door swings open before he can press me.
“Braxton, Gracie,” Esther greets with a wide, welcoming smile. “I’m so glad the two of you could make it!”
Braxton bounces up the three steps, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Of course we came,” he declares. “Don’t tellmy mother, but you make the best pumpkin pie. There’s no way I’d give that up.”
Esther laughs, swatting at his shoulder, turning to me as I come up to Braxton’s side. She drags me in for a hug before I realize what she’s doing, and I stiffen, fighting the urge to pull away as floral perfume swamps me. She doesn’t let go straight away, waiting, and something warm settles in me as I finally hug her back.
The same thing happens every time Raewyn, Braxton’s mom, hugs me. The longer I’m with him, the easier the physical affection comes to me, but I’m not sure it’ll ever feel “normal.”
“Thank you for inviting us, Esther.”
She gives me a final squeeze before pulling back, her expression warm. “Braxton has been inviting himself to these things since he was a kid,” she jokes. “The invite this year was purely for your benefit. Come in. Everyone else is here, and the food’s almost ready.” She shoots a narrow-eyed look at my boyfriend. “Stay away from the pies, or you’ll get a smack with my wooden spoon.”
Braxton groans dramatically. “You invite me just to get to Gracie, and now you’re threatening me with bodily harm?” He pushes his lip out in a comical pout. “I’m starving. Are you really gonna deprive me of pie?”
Esther shakes her head, unmoved. “You forget that I know the kind of spread your family puts on, so you can take your begging somewhere else.”
I giggle and follow her as she turns and sashays inside, leaving Braxton to close the door. He snags my wrist before I can get too far, dragging me back.
“Why’re you laughing?” he growls playfully. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
I widen my eyes innocently. “I don’t remember agreeing to that.”
His mouth quirks. “It was in the fine print.” His voice lowers to a husky whisper. “And you already signed on the dotted line.” He presses a hard kiss to my lips. When I gasp, his tongue pushes into my mouth, sending heat curling through me before I yank away from him. He’s not put off, burying his face into my neck and nibbling at my skin.
“Maybe we should skip dinner,” he suggests huskily.
“What about your pie?”
“You taste better than any pie.” The memory of our tryst in the kitchen just days ago makes me shiver, and he chuckles wickedly.
“Brax!” Nick calls from the living room. “I know you’re out there. Get your ass in here!”
Braxton freezes, his arms around me and his forehead resting against my shoulder. “Fucking cockblocker,” he mutters.
“We can pick this up later.”
“I’m holding you to that, Rumpel.” Braxton straightens, adjusting his dick in his pants. I roll my lips inward, trying to hide my laughter when he grimaces, but he sees it, shooting me a baleful look.
“This is your fault,” he grumbles.
“You’re not victim-blaming, are you?” I ask. “Because we don’t do that.”
He snorts. “You’re no victim.” Braxton waits until I turn away and then slaps me soundly on the ass, making me yelp.
“Hey!”
He grins devilishly. “Don’t worry,” he assures me coyly. “There’ll be more of that later.” Nick yells for him again, and Braxton rolls his eyes, calling back, “I’mcoming. Hold your horses!”
“I know what you’re doing,” Nick replies just as Braxton drags me to the living room. “And you need tostop doing it under my mother’s roof. This is a PG-13 home.”
I quickly smooth my hair down, panicking that they know what we were doing, but Nick and his dad are fully focused on the television.
