Chasing the Fall (Naughty and Spice)

Twelve

Twiggy

The entire cabin smells like sex and sin, and it’s getting close to the dinner hour before Bran finally lets me leave the bed. I look back at him, sprawled out and dozing, and am stricken by how peaceful he looks. The harsh lines usually carved into his face are absent, replaced by an almost boyish laxness.

Frowning, I close the bedroom door behind me. I know those lines are probably there because of me. Not for the first time, I wish I had never gone to the cabin in Lucy Falls. It gained me nothing.

Well. I tilt my head, considering, as I wander over to the picture window and peer outside. That’s not entirely accurate. It gained me Bran. I can be thankful for that, at least.

I don’t know exactly what this is that’s happening between us, but I like it. I even like how he calls me Tallulah, in that deep rumbling voice of his…

What I don’t like is being here in the sticks, with no computer or WiFi or—

My rambling train of thought halts, my attention snagged by a bag sitting beside the door. That looks like the bag I use to haul my laptop when I have to carry it with me.

Curious, I unzip the bag. A squeal leaves me when I see that it is indeed my laptop, and I pull it out.

I have no idea when it arrived, and I’m okay with that.

But why didn’t Bran tell me he had it? I could’ve been on it all day…which, now that I think about it, is probably why he didn’t say anything.

“Neanderthal,” I mutter.

The date shown at the bottom of the screen makes me pause after powering up the laptop.

Thanksgiving Day. I had lost track of the days. An odd emotion seizes my throat, a blend of sadness and resentment. If I was home, I’d be sharing a feast with all of the other only-lonelies—Jack, his deputy, and a few others. It was a tradition we had fallen into over the last several years after my mother had died, when I realized I wasn’t the only one with no family over the holidays.

Another realization seizes me. Tomorrow is Black Friday. I’m supposed to show up at a toy shop in downtown Lucy Falls and play Santa’s helper for local kids. The owner had asked me to do it years ago because I was short and thin and looked like an elf, and I’d been doing it ever since.

I loved the look of awe and joy on the kids’ faces when they saw Santa.

Damnit. I need to talk to Bran. Maybe he’ll let me return, just for that.

My fingers fly across the keyboard as I locate a WiFi network and begin the process of hijacking it. I need to check on the state of things in Lucy Falls.

“Why am I a Neanderthal?”

Bran’s voice in my ear makes me jump and squeal again. How long had he been standing there? “Jeezus, wear a bell.”

He grins and kisses my neck. “Why am I a Neanderthal, baby? I got your computer for you.”

I send him a mock glare. “And then failed to tell me about it because you were too busy screwing my brains out.”

“You loved every minute of it.”

I make a face. “And that’s the only reason you’re forgiven. Be happy you have a good dick.”

His smile is more of a leer now. “I have a fecking great dick.” He rounds the back of the sofa to sit next to me. “What are you doing?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I just needed to do something, you know? Check on things in Lucy Falls. Did you realize what day it is?”

Very gently, he closes the laptop. “I do know. I also know what day it is. Let’s go for a drive, get some Thanksgiving dinner. I know a restaurant that serves a great one.”

I eye him dubiously. “And I can log back on later?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, then. That sounds nice. Just let me get some clothes on.” I stand and move toward the bedroom.

“I don’t know; I kinda like the T-shirt.”

“Cretin.”

“Do you really go to the bar on Christmas?”

The small family restaurant Bran took us to is dim and quiet, the wine is tart, and I am mellow. The question slips out before I think about it, and too late I clap a hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry. If you’re in a bar on Christmas, you probably don’t want to talk about why.”

Bran shakes his head. “It’s all good. It’s like I said—the Irish are my family now. With my parents gone, it’s just another day.”

I nod and continue eating, already full but determined to eat until my fat pants—i.e., Bran’s sweatpants—pop.

“What are your Christmases like?” He asks.

I chew slowly, considering what to tell him. There are things he likely already knows, just from his association with my cousin.

“You know my father died when I was young, right?”

“Yes…heart attack?”

“Yes. He died on Christmas Day.” I wave away the words of sympathy forming on his lips. “It was a long time ago. The thing was, my mother insisted that his death not ruin the holidays for me. She made sure it was the most special time of the year.”

I don’t see the restaurant around me as I speak; rather, I’m back in my childhood home, helping toss icicles on the tree after decorating it, baking sugar cookies and decorating them, and wrapping a rock for my mom in layer on layer of wrapping paper.

“She did it all,” I say. “She cut pine boughs and gathered holly. Hung mistletoe. Wrapped presents exclusively from Santa. Made Christmas cookies…there was no tradition she didn’t adopt and make her own.” My voice drops to a whisper. “It was truly special.”

“I’m sorry, Tally. I know you miss her.”

A tear gathers in the corner of one eye, and I blink it away. Mom died a couple of years ago, victim of an aneurysm that took everyone around her by surprise. “I do,” I whisper.

“I have an idea,” Bran says. “Let’s get a tree.”

“What?”

“A Christmas tree. With all the bells and whistles, naturally. Let’s get one for the cabin.”

I hesitate. I need to tell him about the elf job. “Can we get one for my house, instead?”

“We need to stay here—”

“We can come back if you think we need to; I promise. I need to go back, though. Just for a day or two.”

“Why?”

“Because I gave my word that I’d play one of Santa’s helper elves at this toy store downtown, and I realized earlier that it’s tomorrow. Black Friday. I can’t leave them hanging.”

“Santa’s helper, huh.” I nod. “Like…for kids?”

I roll my eyes. “No, for fucking grownups. Of course, it’s for kids. I’ve been doing it for years. I can’t let them down.”

He heaves a resigned sigh. “I’m going to say yes, but only because kids are involved. Not because I can’t tell you no.”

I tuck my head so he won’t see my grin. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He looks at his watch. “We’d better get on the road, though, if we’re going to make the drive back.” He looks around for the waitress. “Check, please.”