Christmas Beau (Christmas Falls: Season 2)

Chapter 14

Chapter

Fourteen

S cott closed up the concession stand as the afternoon’s youth hockey game was wrapping up. Carmelle had told him that he only needed to keep it open for half an hour after the game started, but in Scott’s experience as a hockey dad, the munchies could hit at any time—and often did. More than once he’d wandered over from the skating arena to buy a chocolate bar, only for the stand to be closed.

Clearly, he was the only one who got the random munchies, because he hadn’t had a single customer since the game had begun.

“I’m not paying you to stand around and do nothing,” Carmelle had said when she’d popped by a few minutes ago, startling Scott from his Instagram doom scrolling. “Go home, Scott.”

So he’d done the reconciliation and locked cabinets and cleaned out the popcorn machine—which one of the other part-timers had shown him how to use—and he skipped out the automatic doors with plenty of time to spare before his date with Hank.

The second in two days.

Tonight, they were heading to carol-oke at Frosty’s, one of the pubs in town. Carol-oke was a brand-new festival season event this year, and was essentially karaoke, but with holiday songs. Scott was dying to belt out a horrible rendition of “Santa Baby” to the crowd.

Fallon greeted him at the door when he got home, and he almost stepped on her when she twined around his legs, distracted as he was reading a text from his mom about his sales at the fair this afternoon. “Not bad” was her less than informative summation, which could mean anything from you sold a few quilts to a few people asked about commissions or a combination thereof.

“Teddy?” he called once he’d removed his boots and coat.

When there wasn’t any answer, Scott followed the sound of Teddy’s and Sean’s voices to the kitchen.

“This is so cool,” Teddy was saying, the excitement clear in his voice. “Did you tell them I want to be in the same group as Liam?”

“Yeah, but that’s not guaranteed,” Sean said. “We can make the request?—”

“But I might not end up with him,” Teddy finished. “I remember.”

They sat at the island, their backs to Scott, heads buried over Sean’s tablet.

From behind, they almost looked related by blood. Teddy’s white-blond hair was only a couple of shades lighter than Sean’s, which itself was only a couple of shades lighter than Scott’s. Scott’s heart softened at the sight of his son and his brother shoulder-to-shoulder.

He hadn’t expected Sean to still be here almost two weeks after he’d arrived. Was, in fact, dreading the day he disappeared without a word. He had to hand it to Sean, though—even though he’d flaked the one time Scott had asked him to work his table at the fair, he’d made plans to hang out with Teddy on the weekends while Scott was at the fair and had kept them.

Secretly, Scott was looking forward to the end of the fair so he could spend time with his brother too.

“Hey,” he said, coming around the island. “What’s going on?”

“Oh my god. Dad, look!” Teddy turned the tablet to face him, turning it back around again just as quickly, making the text on the screen nothing but a blur. “Uncle Sean signed me up for camp.”

“What camp?” Scott asked, head in the fridge. Surely, there had to be something in here that could be cobbled together to make a dinner meal.

“The one I got invited to.”

Freezing in place, Scott replayed Teddy’s words in his head.

Sean had paid for Teddy’s spot in the AAA Youth Hockey Camp?

He clenched his fingers on the fridge handle and inhaled a slow breath.

Didn’t help.

“Did he?”

“Yeah!” Teddy exclaimed, missing the tightness in Scott’s voice. “Can I call Liam and tell him I’m going?”

Letting the fridge fall gently closed, Scott forced a smile for him. “Sure.”

“Woo-hoo!” Teddy scrambled out of his chair and up the stairs, Fallon following after him.

Grinding his teeth, Scott counted to ten.

Tried to count to ten. Sean’s intuitive “You’re mad at me” interrupted Scott at six.

A muscle in Scott’s jaw ticked. “You can’t just... do things like that, Sean.”

“Why not?” Sean asked, sounding so goddamn reasonable that Scott wanted to tear his hair out.

“Because you didn’t even ask me.”

One eyebrow went up. “Would you have accepted?”

“That’s not the point.” Fisting both hands, Scott pressed them into the countertop. “The point is that you registered my son for an overnight camp without talking to me about it first.”

“But...” Sean’s brow scrunched and he looked toward the stairs. “Teddy said that you said he could go. But you weren’t sure if you could afford it.”

Forcing patience into his voice, Scott said, “Teddy is twelve. He’s responsible and trustworthy, but that doesn’t mean you can take what he says at face value when it comes to something like this. I’m the parent. I get to decide if he’s going to attend, and I get to figure out how I’m going to pay for it. If I wanted your help, I’d ask.”

Rising from his barstool, Sean snorted derisively. “No, you wouldn’t. You’d throw yourself on your sword before you asked me for anything.”

“Because I don’t need your help,” Scott flung back, digging his knuckles into the granite. “I haven’t needed it in years.” How was Sean supposed to help from thousands of miles away? Scott had stopped relying on him years ago. “You don’t get to swoop in here and start paying for things to try to win Teddy’s affection.”

“Oh, please.” Sean scoffed, the sound ugly in the space between them. “I don’t need to win Teddy’s affection. He already loves me.”

“Which seems to matter not at all to you,” Scott countered, anger burning up his throat. “Seeing as you flit in and out of his life with no warning like he doesn’t matter.”

“Ah.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Sean smirked. “I see. You’re jealous.”

Scott goggled at him. “Of what?”

“You’re jealous that I get to flit , as you called it, while you’re stuck here with a house and a kid and a dog and nothing to do except make quilts and apply for jobs you don’t even want.”

Hurt struck Scott in the chest, heavy and thick, resonating outward until it bounced off the walls and back into his heart tenfold. He let out an involuntary sound, as though he’d been whacked in the sternum, and took a step back.

“Shit.” Sean pressed the base of his palm between his eyes. “Fuck. I’m so?—”

“Make sure Teddy eats, will you?” Scott said woodenly. “I need to get some air.”

And he left.

He ended up, quite accidentally, at Hank’s.

Or maybe less accidentally and more subconsciously.

Hank opened the door with a smile, sending warmth through Scott’s belly. “Hey. Are you really early for our date or am I just running be— Shit, Scott. Where’s your winter coat? It’s twenty degrees out here.”

Yes. Yes, it is , Scott thought but didn’t say. Couldn’t say through his chattering teeth.

He’d maybe, possibly, left in such a huff that he’d forgotten his outerwear, and he’d walked to Hank’s in jeans and a sweater. It was fucking cold out, and he was freezing from head to toe, but the worst of it was his ears. They stung like a motherfucker.

Hank grabbed him by the biceps and yanked him inside.

The dogs sniffed around him as Hank rubbed his arms in an attempt to warm him up.

“Did you get locked out of your house?” Hank asked.

“N-n-no.” Feeling utterly pathetic, Scott dropped his forehead onto Hank’s shoulder. “Just had to get out of there.”

Hank pulled him close, his strong arms like steel around him. “Did you have a fight with Teddy?”

Scott shook his head. “With Sean.”

“That makes more sense, given what you’ve told me of your relationship,” Hank murmured in his ear, his voice rumbly and soft. “Your clothes are wet. Is it snowing?”

Scott grunted and burrowed closer, the cold finally beginning to seep from his bones.

Hank squeezed his waist. “Why don’t you grab clothes out of my dresser and change into something warm and dry?”

That sounded amazing, but so did staying right here in the circle of Hank’s arms.

In the end, Hank made the decision for him. “Go on,” he said, stepping back. “I’ll make us some coffee while you do that.”

In Hank’s bedroom, Scott did more than change into a pair of Hank’s coziest sweatpants and a thick hoodie. He crawled onto Hank’s ginormous bed and buried his head in a pillow. It smelled like Hank, all manly and delicious, instantly calming Scott’s lingering anger.

He passed a hand over the bedspread, smoothing tiny wrinkles with his palm, and imagined Hank sleeping on this pillow, all bedheaded and sleep-creased. What would it be like to spend the night with Hank and watch him open his eyes in the morning? Was he a morning person who’d smile sleepily at Scott and snuggle in for cuddles? Or would he groan with the first rays of sunshine peeking through the blinds before rolling over and going back to sleep?

Scott wanted the chance to find out.

A low chuckle had him turning his head to track Hank’s entrance into the room. He brought the scent of coffee with him.

“I wondered what was taking you so long.” Hank set two mugs on the nightstand, then joined Scott on the bed. “You didn’t even get under the covers.”

“Couldn’t be bothered.”

There they lay, on their fronts, gazing at each other from only a few inches away, and even though Hank wasn’t touching him, Scott nevertheless felt cared for in a way he hadn’t experienced in... ever. He had people in his life who cared about him, of course, but the way Hank was looking at him...

Scott gulped.

Slow. They were taking things slow .

“Christ, you’re sexy,” Scott blurted.

A corner of Hank’s mouth lifted, and his whiskey eyes glinted with both amusement and affection. “Ditto.” The smile fell off his face, and he traced a thumb at the corner of Scott’s eye. “Want to talk about it?”

Blowing out a breath, Scott rolled onto his side. “I think... maybe I overreacted?”

Again.

Except . . . Sean had stepped on his toes in a massive way, so . . .

“Actually, maybe not.”

Hank raised an eyebrow. “Care to explain?”

Scott did, and by the time he was finished, he was surprised to find that he was no longer angry. He was just... tired. Tired of fighting with Sean over every little fucking thing.

“Do you think I’m overreacting?” Scott asked quietly, not sure he wanted the answer.

“No,” Hank said instantly, and the tenseness in Scott’s shoulders eased. “If he’d paid for, I don’t know, a new pair of winter boots or a new backpack, that’s different. That’s him treating his nephew. But this...”

Scott flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Did Sean think he was incompetent? A bad parent? Sean paying for Teddy’s camp made Scott feel like Sean didn’t think he was capable of giving his son what he needed.

But worse than that . . .

“I don’t know why he bothers. Teddy’s going to go to this great camp. He’s going to have a blast, I know he is, and he’s going to learn tons of cool shit. And Sean won’t be around to see the results of that, so what’s the point?”

“Is it possible...” Hank cleared his throat, and Scott shifted his head on the pillow to look at him. “Don’t hate me for this question, but... is it possible you’re upset not on Teddy’s behalf, but on yours?”

Scott narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“You said Sean won’t be around to see the results of his... well, investment, I guess? For lack of a better word. He won’t see Teddy grow. Won’t see him use his new skills to improve. But... what if what you’re actually upset about is that Sean hasn’t been around for the past however-many years... for you.” Hank ran a knuckle down Scott’s cheek. “He hasn’t been here to share ups and downs or provide emotional support or even to be a shoulder to vent on.”

Scott opened his mouth to respond— obviously Hank had it all wrong—but the words wouldn’t come.

Was Hank right? Was Scott dealing with a decade’s worth of pent-up anger over the fact that Sean had basically abandoned him to travel the world?

Damn. And he’d thought he was so well-adjusted.

Sean hadn’t abandoned him, of course. He’d left Christmas Falls for bigger opportunities and to chase his dreams of seeing the world—Scott knew that.

But he only came back to town when he felt like it, breezing through until something better took him away again, making Scott feel like he didn’t matter to his brother.

“Well, shit,” he muttered, his eyes burning.

“You’re welcome?”

Snorting a wet laugh, Scott rolled onto his side again. Hank’s eyes were so kind, so understanding, that it gave him the courage to explore his feelings out loud. “Ever since Sean’s arrived, I’ve been meaning to spend more time with him. But I keep putting it off, using the fair as an excuse.” Or quilting or spending time with Teddy, or hell—even dates with Hank. But in his defense, Sean was out a lot too. They hardly ever saw each other at home. “And I think that’s because I know he’s going to leave again—maybe for longer this time. And what’s the point of trying to get to know him again when he clearly doesn’t care about me?”

“I doubt that’s true. He landed on your doorstep, didn’t he? He invited himself to stay with you instead of with your parents or at any of the B&Bs in town.”

Scott smacked his lips together and rotated onto his back again. “I guess that’s a valid point,” he said reluctantly. “I should probably talk to him, huh?”

“It might be worth a chat, yes,” Hank said, and Scott didn’t miss the amusement in his voice.

“How about you?”

Hank raised an eyebrow. “How about me?”

“Will you talk to your brothers? Because that thing with the blog post was really mean. I know you said they’re just teasing, but it can’t make you feel good.”

“No.” Hank kissed Scott’s shoulder, then laid his chin there. “It doesn’t. When they teased me when I was younger, I let it happen because it made me feel part of their group, even if they were laughing at my expense. I let it go on because...” He blew out a breath, and it tickled Scott’s ear. “Honestly? It’s just easier than rocking the boat. Which is probably why my marriages went on as long as they did when they should’ve ended much sooner. Neither of us wanted to have the difficult conversations, so we kept going through the motions until we couldn’t anymore.”

Scott squirmed an arm underneath Hank’s shoulders and splayed his fingers in his soft hair. “Is that what you meant the other day when you said you’d made bad choices?”

Grunting an assent, Hank leaned into his touch like a dog wanting to be pet. “I’m trying to live more honestly.”

“And what about your remark about playing bad hockey?”

Hank gave him a look . “Have you seen me play?”

“I’ll admit that I did watch some clips on YouTube. You were good.”

“I was passable.”

“No passable player makes it to a professional sports league, even a minor one.”

“I suppose.” Rolling onto his back, Hank stretched his big body.

Scott’s mouth watered.

“I was fine,” Hank continued, oblivious to Scott’s drooling. “My hockey career was blah. Just like my marriages. Blah. Boring. Unimpressive. I kept trying to be better—a better player, a better husband. But I never quite made it there.”

He sounded matter-of-fact, but Scott didn’t buy it for a second. “Maybe it wasn’t what you were meant to be doing. In either case. And besides...” Scott scooted halfway on top of him and kissed his chin. “If you hadn’t gone through all that, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Hm.” Hank swept one hand down Scott’s back, eliciting goosebumps. “You’re right.”

Scott kissed his collarbone, then nodded at a pile of Christmas decorations he’d noticed but hadn’t fully registered. “Finally going to decorate?”

“I suppose I have to,” Hank said with a laugh. “They were on my doorstep this morning with a note from Secret Santa. That’s not you, is it?”

“Nope.”

“If not you, then who? I don’t know anyone in this town well enough for them to gift me all that. It’s enough decorations to fill two houses.”

Scott shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’ve heard whisperings of Secret Santa in town. They’re some kind of local philanthropist anonymously doing kind things for people—organizing free tutoring to struggling kids or ensuring someone’s driveway is clear of snow.” He thought for a moment, then said, “I was talking to Anna about your lack of holiday décor at the fair earlier this week. Someone must’ve overheard us and spread the word to our philanthropist.”

“That’s really nice of this Secret Santa, whoever they are,” Hank said. “Want to help me put them up?”

Groaning, Scott dropped his forehead on Hank’s collarbone. “I should probably go home and talk to Sean.”

His phone pinged in his pocket, and he dug it out. Finding a text from Sean, Scott tapped it open.

Sean

Is it okay if I take Teddy to The Snowflake Shack for dinner, then skating at the park?

Scott

Sure. Sounds fun. Have a good time.

Nice of him to ask first. That was an improvement. A small one, but it was a step in the right direction.

Sean

Want to join us?

Scott

You guys go ahead. Have some uncle/nephew time.

Okay, yes, it was an excuse to delay having the conversation they needed to have, but at the same time, it wasn’t like they’d have it in front of Teddy anyway.

“Never mind,” he told Hank as Kinsey padded silently into the room and curled up in a corner. “Sean’s taking Teddy to dinner. If I’m going to decorate with you, I need sustenance. Do you have a frozen pizza or something we can throw in the oven?”

“Sure. But before we do that, do you want to see this funny video of a dog playing with a water hose that I found?”

“Uh, yeah .”

So they watched dog videos until they couldn’t breathe from laughing so hard.