A Very Badd Christmas (The Badd Brothers #19)

4. Hayden

CHAPTER 4

hayden

I sat at my computer for three days straight, cranking away at a giant project my boss dumped on me. Fueled by energy drinks, coffee, and microwaveable mini pizzas, I barely left my desk for seventy-two hours, only grabbing a handful of power naps in that time.

I was so hyperfocused—my superpower as well as my greatest flaw—that I never looked at my phone.

Once I finished the project, I crashed for twelve hours, sleeping like the dead. I woke up at eight the next morning and sat bolt upright, on the verge of a blind panic for what felt like no reason at all.

I checked my phone—the usual missed calls from Mom, but no voicemails; if she needed something important, she left a message. She never texts, nor does Dad. I tried showing them how, but even using the voice-to-text, they just didn't want to do it.

I tried to go back to sleep, but once I was up, I was up. So I had some coffee, changed, hit the gym for a quick burnout session, and came home. No calls, no messages; I still had the churning in my gut, the sense of something wrong, a feeling of impending doom.

I tried to work, but the feeling was so bad I couldn't shake it. I picked up my phone to call Mom but opted to just swing by.

On the way, my phone rang. I answered it halfway through the first ring. "Mom? Is everything alright? I've had—"

"Hayden." Her voice was…broken. Barely a whisper, shaking, tiny.

"Mom? What—what's wrong?" I put it on speaker and set it on my thigh as I made the turn onto their street. "I'm about to pull in."

"Hayden, your father…" she trailed off, shattering into sobs, unable to finish.

I floored it, the tires of my vintage Wagoneer squealing. "I'm here, Mom. I'm pulling in."

"I'm…I'm at the hospital." I could barely hear her.

"What happened?" I asked, hauling ass past our house and making a right to head back to the main road.

"His heart." Not even a whisper—a breath. "He had a heart attack."

My throat was tight and hot. My eyes burned. "He's…Dad, he's not—”

"He's gone, baby."

I remember screaming, but I don't remember driving to the hospital. I remember parking illegally and not caring. I remember running up the steps to the cardiac floor, too much in a hurry to wait for the elevator, as if I could do something to change the facts if I got there sooner.

I remember stumbling to a halt in the doorway, gasping for breath. Mom was a tiny, motionless lump on the bed beside Dad. A nurse was quietly and unobtrusively disconnecting leads and unhooking machines, and another was tidying up the crash cart. The monitor was off—no flatline tone.

The room was silent.

I stood there for a very long time, staring almost without seeing. Eventually, I made my feet propel me forward to the bed. Dad was…smaller, somehow as if the lack of his animating spirit had somehow shrunk his physical form. His eyes were closed. Had I ever noticed how his veins stood out so prominently on his forearms? That scar on his temple?

Mom was barely breathing. Snuggled up against him, her hand on his chest, over his hand.

"Mom."

She just shook her head.

I didn’t know what to say. What to do. I was too shocked, too stunned to feel anything.

A doctor came in and pulled me out, explaining that he'd suffered a massive cardiac arrest while grading papers in his office. A student had found him slumped over, gasping, and had called 911, performing CPR until they got there. He had been kept alive for almost half an hour, but in the end, there just wasn't anything to be done.

I handled the necessary arrangements. Eventually, it was time for the hospital to take him. Which meant I had to get Mom to let him go.

I went around the bed to where Mom was. Touched her shoulder—she was shivering. "Mom. It's time to say goodbye." My voice cracked on the last word.

"I can't."

I tucked her hair away from her eyes and behind her ear. "I know. But we gotta."

"It hurts, Hayden. What do I do without him?"

I scooped her up, and she put her face into my chest and shook. My eyes burned, but I knew I couldn't let go. I had to be strong for Mom.

She peeked up over my shoulder. "Wait, wait. Put me down. I have to say goodbye. I have to—I have to say goodbye."

I set her on her feet, holding her shoulders. She pulled away, leaned over the bed, cradled Dad's cheeks in her hands, and kissed his lips. Whispered something that was none of my business.

She straightened, inhaled deeply, held it, and let it out slowly. Squared her shoulders. Turned to me. "Your turn." Her voice was shockingly firm.

I didn't know what to do, what to say. I moved beside Mom and touched Dad's hand—it was cold, dry, papery. Wrong. Empty.

"Dad, I…" my voice gave out. The burn in my eyes turned to a hazy blur that I blinked away frantically. I bent over his body and held an image in my mind of him alive, grinning at me after telling a horrible dad joke. "I love you. I'll miss you."

It seemed so inadequate, so paltry. Pathetic. But what words could capture my feelings in this moment?

There weren't any. Especially because I was still in shock, not fully comprehending the reality of what had happened.

Mom's hand rested on my back. Rubbed in circles.

I straightened, blinked away tears. How did you just…walk away? How were you supposed to do that?

In the end, it was Mom who pulled me away. She tucked her hand around my bicep and gently guided me out of the room. Down the hall. Down the elevator. To the parking lot. She'd driven here but rode home with me.

When we got there, she walked in and set her purse on the narrow table by the front door, laden with mail and decorated with a little pumpkin and a cross-stitched "Give Thanks" sign. Just stood there for a moment.

"Mom, can I…what can I do?" I jingled my keys in my pocket.

She shook her head. "I just…I need to be alone, sweetheart. But will you…will you stay here tonight?"

"Yeah, Mom, of course."

"You don't need to work?"

"That doesn't matter. I'll call my boss later."

She just nodded without looking at me. Shuffled for the stairs. I followed her up. Halfway from the stairs to their room, her legs gave out, and I caught her. She pushed to her feet, one hand on the wall.

I helped her to her room, where she crawled onto her side of the bed. "I'll be downstairs."

She nodded.

"Is there anything I can do?"

A shake of her head. "I just need to be alone."

"Mom, I…" Words failed me.

"I know, Hayden."

Thanksgiving was weird.

For the first time in my entire life, there was no turkey or stuffing or any of that. Mom and I went to a local Chinese restaurant and shared Kung Pao and Sweet and Sour Chicken.

Midway through the meal, Mom looked at me. "I don't know what to do about the…trip."

She couldn't even say the word "cruise,” associating it with Dad.

"You already paid for it, didn't you?" I asked.

She nodded, scooping up a peapod with her chopsticks. "Yes, it's all paid for."

"I guess you probably don't want to just…go anyway."

Her laugh was bitter. "No, Hayden, I do not want to go on my fiftieth-anniversary cruise by myself."

"But you can't get a refund."

"No."

"I'll go with you. We can get the room switched to two adjoining rooms."

I hate boats. I get seasick. But for Mom? No question.

She looked at me for a long time. "I don't know, Hayden. I know how you feel about being on the water. I hate to waste that much money, but…it just seems so stupid to go by myself. What would I do?"

I reached across the table and took her hands in mine. "Mom, I want to go with you. I need to get away, too. Our first Christmas together without…" I had to stop and clear my throat. "Without him…I don't know if I can do it here in that house. You know? And a cruise ship is barely like being on a boat at all, from what I hear. They have all sorts of stabilizers, so unless the weather is awful, you barely feel it roll."

She just rolled a shoulder. "You don't have to do that for me, Hayden. It's okay. I'll just gift it to one of the ladies in my book club. I know Barbara Reynolds and her husband have a big anniversary coming up."

I squeezed her hand. "I'm not doing it for you, Mom. We both need it, now more than ever. It'll be fun. We can go on all the excursions you want."

She blinked hard. "You hate boats, Hayden."

"But I love you .”

"You're sure?" The hope in her eyes was physically painful to see—she needed a getaway more than anything.

She was just existing right now. Dragging herself out of bed, drifting to work.

"I…I know it won't be the same. But…yeah, I'm absolutely sure. I may have to hang by the pool and do some work now and then, but I'll get as much time off as I can. I've got a lot coming since I work so much. I'd love to go with you, if you'll have me."

She laughed. "Oh, you're diabolical, you are. Turning it around like I'm doing you a favor."

It was good to see her laugh. "You are! I don't think I've ever taken a vacation."

She frowned thoughtfully. "You haven't, have you? You do work too much, I've always said that. You don't have any friends, let alone—"

I laughed and cut her off. "Okay, okay. Let's not go down that road. Yes, I might meet a girl on the boat. We'll see. But I'm doing it to spend time with you, not meet women."

She rolled her eyes. “You can do both, you know."

I sighed a laugh. "Yes, Mother." I ate a piece of chicken and a peanut slathered in Kung Pao sauce, with one of those tiny corn things. "When do we leave?"

Good god, that's a big damn boat.

I stood next to Mom as we waited in line to board. The thing was a floating skyscraper. I'd done plenty of research in the weeks between agreeing to go and now. I knew about the morgue they have for the inevitable deaths, the statistics on safety, how the stabilizers worked, how many crewmembers there were, the captain’s credentials, the itinerary, which excursions Mom wanted to do, and which ones sounded interesting to me…I'm a nerd, okay? Facts and stats make me feel more comfortable.

I'm not gonna say I was excited, but I wasn't dreading it, either. I was ready to get out of West Lafayette, Indiana for the first time in my life—other than that one family vacation to Disney World when I was in fourth grade, courtesy of a raffle Dad won at work. I grew up in Indiana, went to Purdue because Dad got a killer discount on tuition and I lived at home, did a virtual interview, and got hired by a startup without ever setting foot in California, where the company I work for is located.

So yeah, I was a little excited, I guess. Not about the actual cruise, per se, so much as getting out of Indiana and seeing new places. New people? Not as much. I was socially awkward around people, and was about to be stuck on a boat with a few thousand new people.

But in the end, this is about Mom.

Turns out it was actually pretty fun. Lounging by the pool with Mom, sipping a drink, swimming, and yes, working. The days were long and filled with things to do together, and I never got sick as long as I didn't stand by the railing and look at the water. I made that mistake once and nearly chunked over the railing. Mom just laughed and told me not to look down and then went back to reading her Agatha Christie novel.

Ketchikan itself was amazing. It was easily the most beautiful place I've ever seen—not that the list is hard to beat. West Lafayette is nice and all, and Disney World is cool, but Ketchikan, Alaska?

Mind. Blown.

Mom and I did a flightseeing and kayaking tour of the Misty Fjords, and I've never enjoyed anything more in my life. I didn't think about work or my laptop once. Mom was so happy she kept saying, "This is so much fun I could cry." I think she did cry, actually. That alone made the whole trip worth it.

The day after the kayaking trip, Mom decided to stay by the pool and read again, claiming to be wiped out from the day before, and encouraged me to go do something on my own.

I hugged her, locked my laptop in the room, grabbed my wallet and phone, and headed for shore. For a while, I just wandered around town on foot, popped into touristy places, and bought a hat for myself and a sweatshirt for Mom. By then, I was hungry. Wasn't much around except bars, so I figured fuck it, why not?

I picked one at random and wandered into a place called Badd Kitty.

It was a pub sort of place, dimly lit with a lot of dark, aged wood and metal, with TVs in the corners playing sports replays and Atmosphere streams, loud rock music blaring from hidden speakers, and deep booths with red velvet cushions along the wall. Opposite the booths was the bar, which was the pièce de résistance of the whole place. Hewn from what had to be a single gigantic tree, the facing live edge wove in a long sine wave, the top polished and lacquered, the whole thing extending a good hundred feet from end to end. The service bar occupied the far end by the entrance to the kitchen, and a Keno machine sat at the end by the door. The high-backed stools were solid and had cushions of the same red velvet as the booths, with a railing running around the bottom of the bar for the feet and a high back on the stools. Despite being midday, it was pretty busy, which wasn’t entirely surprising considering the number of cruise ships in port.

I found a spot at the bar near the service station and waited for the bartender to come by. She was a gorgeous girl with dark red hair, stunning blue eyes, and a figure I had trouble keeping my eyes off of.

She shot me a friendly grin. "Hey, welcome in. I'm Delia. What can I get you?"

“An amber. Something local?" I said, grinning back.

"Sure thing. Want a menu?" She tossed a napkin in front of me and pulled the beer.

"Yeah. Well, no, actually—what's good?"

"Everything. But if you like a burger, ours has been voted best in Ketchikan six years running."

"Sign me up. Thanks."

She winked at me and went to punch in my order. My beer was fantastic, malty and smooth. I nursed my beer and watched sports replays, even though I didn't know the first thing about sports.

When the replay program ended, a re-run of the women's national finals for college soccer came on. I never watch sports of any kind, but I found myself enjoying it. The U-W goalie was the hero of the game, stopping everything that came at her with incredible feats of athletic prowess, not to mention some serious panache.

My food came, and I dug in. Halfway through, I felt a tap on my shoulder. "Mind if I sit?"

I answered without looking, not wanting to miss the play that was happening—an excellent drive by the other team since I was rooting for UW based on the goalie alone. "Sure, all yours."

"Oh god, really?" The voice was a little raspy, not like a sore throat— it seemed natural, maybe from yelling a lot; why didn't matter, it was hot, so I looked.

Fuck me.

Bright, curly red hair—true ginger—loose around a heart-shaped face and shocking, mesmerizing green eyes. Her skin was…shit, I don't know. Ice cream? Butter pecan ice cream, with freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks.

She was the most heart-stoppingly beautiful human being I'd ever seen. I couldn't speak.

I cleared my throat and forced words out. "Oh god, really what?"

She was dressed in dark gray leggings, fuzzy, fluffy, calf-height boots, and an ivory V-neck sweater that hugged her ample bust like a second skin. She set a worn leather purse on the bar and then grabbed a cocktail napkin from the bar, wadded it up, and tossed it at the bartender.

"Hey, wench, gimme a beer!" She shouted.

The bartender didn't turn away from the point-of-sale computer as she flipped the bird.

"You know her, I take it?" I asked.

The siren beside me just cackled. "She’s basically my sister." She pointed at the game I was watching. "The game. That's what I said ‘oh god really’ about."

I glanced at her as I dragged a fry through ranch dressing. "Not a soccer fan?"

She stared at me, blinked twice. "Are you?"

I shrugged. "Never watched a game in my life." I pointed at the TV. "This is a hell of a game, though. The U-W goalie is a rockstar."

She cackled at this, for some reason. "You don’t say?" She leaned forward. "Delia! This guy here says the U-W goalie is a rock star."

Delia threw he head back and laughed uproariously. "Dude, are you for real?"

I frowned, looking from one gorgeous girl to the other. "Um, yes? Did I say something stupid?"

The bombshell beside me leaned close. She smelled like lavender, which, for reasons I could not begin to explain, had the effect of making me hard as a rock.

"Look closer at the keeper," she said. "And then look at me."

Gulp.

At that precise moment, the cameraman zoomed in on the goalie. Curly ginger hair pulled back in a tight braid with a headband to keep the flyaways out of her face. Same heart-shaped face. Same eyes.

Yup.

It was her—the girl next to me.

I turned to her and grinned sheepishly. "Uh, hi. Nice to meet you—I'm Hayden McCaffery." I held out my hand.

She slid her hand into mine and squeezed—firm, but not trying to prove anything. Her hands were soft and small. "Nice to meet you, Hayden McCaffery. I'm Emerson Day, goalkeeper for the University of Washington women's soccer team." She still had my hand in hers, and her eyes twinkled. For real, they glittered in the low light, and my breath caught in my throat. "Spoiler alert—U-W wins."

"No kidding? So you're a national champion." I didn't want to look away, didn't want to let go of her hand.

I wanted to lean close and inhale her scent. I wanted to see if the rest of her creamy, milky skin was as soft as her hands.

She pulled her hand from mine and huffed on her fingernails, then buffed them on her shirtfront. "What can I say, I'm a rockstar." She grinned at me. "I have it on excellent authority, you know."

Her smile set fire to my nerve endings. I groped the recesses of my suddenly vacant mind for something intelligent to say.

"So, um. Come here often?" As soon as the words exited my big dumb mouth, I groaned and slapped my forehead. "Can you maybe forget I said that?"

She snickered. "Sure. Try again, hotshot."

Okay, brain: smart time. You were valedictorian of your class at Purdue. You can do better than that.

I took a breath. “Are you from the area or just visiting?" Okay, that wasn't too bad.

She eyed Delia, who was at the service bar with a ticket and a cocktail shaker, then leaned up and over the bar and reached way down the other side—incidentally providing me a long look at her butt, which was, in a word, glorious: generous, firm, and heart-shaped. I swallowed hard. She came back down to her seat with a bottle of whiskey; another quick reach brought a pair of rocks glasses.

I watched with a raised eyebrow as she poured a finger of whiskey into each glass and replaced the bottle. Sliding one glass to me, she lifted hers in a toast.

"To rockstar goalies and no dumb questions." She said this with a wry, teasing smirk.

I clinked my glass against hers. "I'll drink to the first part, but I'm pretty sure I proved there are in fact some dumb questions."

We tossed back the shots—I hissed and winced as the whiskey burned its way down my throat. "Jesus. What is that? Turpentine?"

"The bottomest of bottom-shelf," Delia said, collecting our glasses and setting them in the wash sink. "I only keep that bottle in stock for giving out free shots. Why do you think I let her do that?"

Emerson rapped her knuckles on the bar. "Delia, bestest bestie, may I please have a beer and something horribly unhealthy to eat?"

Delia pulled a beer—Something yellowish-orange with a thick cap of white foam and then punched something in the POS. "Food's on me, beer's on you."

Emerson took a sip, coming away with a foam mustache. "Thanks, sweet tits. You're the best." She didn't seem to notice the mustache as she looked at me. "To answer your second question first, I am proudly Ketchikan born and raised. To answer your first question second, yes, I do come here often. Mainly because she— ” she gestured at Delia, “manages the place and happens to be a workaholic, so it's the only place I can get quality time with her." Another sip, adding to the foam-stache. "And by manages, I mean her family owns it—and all the other Badd’s Bar establishments."

Come to think of it, Badd's was listed on a brochure I'd leafed through when we arrived in port as a local favorite hang-out spot, along with two other spots bearing the Badd name.

I grabbed a napkin from the stack and reached toward her, stopping short of making contact. "You have, um…" I gestured at my upper lip with my other hand. "May I?"

She lifted her chin and pushed her face toward me. "Please do."

I swiped the napkin across her lip, folded it, and swiped again. There was still a bit of foam, so I brushed my thumb over her lip.

My heart pounded, and an electric shock sizzled through me at the skin-to-skin contact.

She looked at me from a few inches away, eyes searching mine, looking for something. "Thanks." Her voice was soft. Intimate.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah." More conversational brilliance from the one and only Hayden McCaffrey, everyone. Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week.

"So." She leaned back in her chair and took another swig, this time wiping her lip with the back of her hand. "Cruise?"

I laughed. "Yeah. Is it that obvious?"

"I mean, yeah, but when you grow up around here, tourists are easy to spot. Mainly because the rest of the year, Ketchikan is actually a pretty small town, so we mostly know everyone."

"Gotcha. You have a beautiful place, here. It's incredible." I'd forgotten my food and went back to it.

"There's nowhere like it," she said. "Seattle is cool and all, but there's nowhere like Ketchikan."

Delia brought her the same thing she'd brought me, and Emerson and I spent a few minutes eating in silence.

"What'd you think of the cruise? Fun?"

I shrugged. "I wasn't sure if I'd like it, to be honest. I don't like boats much. But I’ve had fun. More so being here than the actual cruise part, though."

She gave me a puzzled frown, laughing. "If you don't like boats and weren't sure you'd like it, why go?"

I sighed. "Long story."

She snorted. “You know, I’ve noticed people tend to say that when it's not actually all that long , just personal or hard to explain."

"More the former," I said.

"Well then, forget I asked."

I shook my head. "Nah, it's okay." I took a long drink for fortification. "So, my parents had been saving for a Christmas cruise to Alaska for their fiftieth anniversary. They'd been planning it for at least a decade."

Emerson's eyes widened as she abruptly pulled her pint glass away from her mouth mid-sip. " Fifty years? Holy shit. That's amazing."

I nodded. "Yeah, they…yeah. But, um, anyway. My dad…" I trailed off, throat going hot and tight, eyes burning. I worked like hell to push past the emotion. "He, uh, died. Heart attack. A few weeks before Thanksgiving. My mom didn't want to go alone, but the whole thing was already paid for, no refunds. So I went with her." I swallowed hard. "She's had a lot of fun. It's been really great to see her smiling again."

Emerson didn't answer, didn't look at me for a moment. "Shit, Hayden. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…stir anything up." Her eyes went to mine, full of sympathy and sorrow. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

I had to look away and shove the emotions back down. This girl was incredible and I wasn't about to start bawling in front of her. That would be super cool and amazing and attractive.

When I felt less on the edge of a meltdown, I shrugged and shook my head. "Thanks. I…except for telling my boss why I needed last-minute vacation time, I haven't talked about it."

"I mean, it's only been, what, a couple months? Not even? It's gotta still be fresh."

I nodded. "Yeah, it is, I guess."

She glanced at me after a moment. "You know, I think it's really amazing, you going on the cruise with your mom. Especially if you don't like boats."

"I get seasick. But the thing is more like a floating hotel than a boat. So as long as I stay away from the railing, I’m fine." I pushed my empty plate away.

"You and your mom are close then?"

I nodded. "Oh yeah. Maybe a little too close, some people would say." I laughed. “Nah, I’m just kidding. But yeah, we're close."

The look in her eyes, then, is…shuttered, unreadable. "I don't think you can be too close to someone you love. Especially a mom. One who cares, anyway."

I searched her face. "I stepped in something, didn't I?"

A shake of her head, red curls bouncing to and fro. "No, it's fine."

"You know, the only woman I'm close to is Mom, but it seems to me when a woman says something is fine, it's usually not."

She rolled her eyes at me. "Oh shut up." Her smile took the sting out of the words. "But you're right. I have a…let's just say a difficult relationship with my mother. My actual mother, at least." She pointed at Delia with a fry. "Her mom is more my mom, and Mama Dru is the best."

Delia, half-listening as she worked, thrust a credit card in the air overhead. "Hear, hear!"

"Well, I'm glad you have her, then," I said.

"Me too," she answered. "More than I can say." A beat. "So, if it's a Christmas cruise, what are you and your mom doing about actual Christmas, like on the day?"

I shrugged. "I think there's a whole thing happening on the boat. It's our first one without Dad so we're skipping all the usual traditions. We'll probably just exchange presents in one of the cabins and spend time in the saloon or whatever they call it."

Emerson frowned. "That doesn’t sound…" she hesitated. "Very Christmassy. I mean, I get avoiding the traditions, but…" she sighed and shrugged.

"Yeah, I know what you mean,” I said. “Thanksgiving was weird. We went to a Chinese place. Didn't feel like a holiday. But how can it, you know?"

Emerson gave me a long, speculative look and then glanced at Delia. “Yeah, I get that," was all she said.

My phone buzzed, face down on the bar beside my beer.

Mom: There's a formal dinner and dancing tonight. Did you remember to bring a suit?

My eyes widened as I realized I had not, in fact, remembered to bring formalwear. I meant to, and I'd had a niggling I'd forgotten something the whole cruise.

"Shit." I scraped my hand through my hair, glancing at Emerson. "I don't suppose you know where I can get a suit…like right now?"

She grinned. "Actually, I do."