Chloe
"Is it weird that I feel bad about Hartleigh?" I asked Jack as we sat in his penthouse. I was curled up on his couch, rubbing my wrists. They still felt a little tingly. Also, my stockings were ruined from running on the street.
"Head injuries are bad," Jonathan said. "They make you crazy."
"Hartleigh was already crazy," Jack added. "Now she's hopefully going to jail when she's released from the hospital."
"I feel bad for her parents," I said. "That must be awful, to have your daughter arrested so close to Christmas."
"They knew she had mental problems," Jack said. "And they did nothing."
The TV was on, and a football game showed on the screen. Owen and Jonathan were watching the game, but Oliver and Matt were arguing in a corner.
Jack’s two youngest brothers were in sweatshirts and jeans. They were still baby-faced teenagers, but I could see the angles of their faces slowly coming into relief. In another couple of years, they would be as handsome and broad shouldered as Jack and the other two older Frost brothers.
Matt and Oliver stood up, pushing and shoving each other as they got near me.
"Stop it," Owen snapped.
"You ask her!" Oliver said to Matt.
"Are you making Christmas?" he asked.
"What kind of idiotic question is that?" Owen said.
"Leave her alone," Jack yelled at them. "She's been through a lot today."
I fiddled with my hair. It felt frizzy.
"Of course we're having Christmas," I told them. "Jack is just being a Grinch."
"I’m not," he said, glowering. His brothers snickered.
"Before I can do that, I need to go back to the Airbnb. All my cooking stuff is there, along with my fancy pens."
"Why do you need fancy pens?" Jonathan asked.
"To write out what's in each dish," I told him. "Honestly, I don't know how you all function."
"I'll drive you to Brooklyn and help you gather your things," Jack said, standing up and grabbing his keys and wallet.
The boots he had bought me, along with my other presents, were still in his closet. It was nice to see the fur coat and dress hanging up next to his suits.
I tugged on my boots and followed Jack to his car. He kept his arm wrapped around me in the elevator.
"So no more Brooklyn restaurant job since your boss was your stalker, I take it?" he said once we were on the road.
"I don't think it's going to work out," I said sadly.
"Huh," he said. "Well, I—" He seemed about to ask me something, but then his phone rang.
He seemed irritated as he answered. "Yes, I know, I know, you're hungry. I don't know if she's cooking tonight. How can you be finished with the food Owen brought already?"
I smiled. "My brothers are starving," Jack explained.
"They're teenagers," I said. "Of course they're hungry."
"They want you to cook. I told them to order more takeout."
