Christmas Criminal

20. Nick

20

NICK

Monday, December 23rd

N oelle is going to be gone for hours, so I head to the town square for the Shop Til You Drop event, and search for some little things that I can bring her family. I don't know them well, so I search for nonspecific, Christmas-themed things, because I do know they're big fans of the holiday.

I end up with a few stuffed animals and some generic ornaments. The town has themed ones every year, so I get one of those for Christina, since she'll be moving back, and a pretty silver snowflake for her mom.

And yes, when I see a Grinch-themed ornament, I get that for Noelle, too. It seems only right.

And when I can consider my shopping for the year done, I head back to my car, passing Hank's booth along the way. He's chatting jovially with someone, his laugh full and boisterous, and I get the distinct feeling that Hank would make a wonderful Santa. When he waves the person off, wishing them a merry Christmas, I stop by to say the same to him.

"Ah, done your shopping for the year?" he asks, rounding the table and clapping me on the back. He grins at me, hands on his hips.

"I am," I say, and it feels really nice to say that. To have people around me to get things for.

"Good, good." He gets a knowing glint in his eye as he eyes my bag. "Got a little something for Noelle in there?"

Heat rushes into my cheeks, and Hank only grins wider. "Yeah, I got her a little something."

He nods. "Good. I have a feeling in my bones that she needs somebody like you, just like you need somebody like her."

I can't help the laugh that escapes me. "Yeah? I feel like I can hardly handle her."

He waves me off. "She's not a difficult one. There's a lot of love underneath a hell of a lot of armor. The really difficult ones–they don't have love under there. Only needles. Noelle had it tough, but she came out on top. I have a lot of respect for that girl. For her mom and her sister, too. Great people, all three of them, who have been dealt a shitty hand."

"You really hate her dad too, huh?"

He lowers his voice, leaning toward me. "Look, don't tell anybody, but Noelle's mom called me when she saw her daughter taking off with a carton of eggs. She thought it might teach her a lesson to get caught, so she sent me over there to pick her up." He holds his hands out in front of him, as if to say, well what was I supposed to do? "When I got there, she was staring at his house, glaring. Seemed like she wanted to throw the eggs but she didn't have the nerve."

"What made her throw them?"

Hank shrugs. "Time, I guess."

I narrow my eyes. "You waited for her to throw the eggs?"

He shrugs. "Look, you didn't hear this story from me. But I sat there watching that girl fume for a good twenty minutes, working herself up to that point. And I swear, the whole time I was–pardon the pun–egging her on." He lets out a quick breath. "I honestly can't believe the amount of time I sat there, whispering to myself, 'Come on, Noelle. Throw the damn egg already.'"

I let out a disbelieving breath. "But why did you give her community service then?"

He shakes his head. "That was Helen's request. I would have picked her up and taken her right home, but Helen wanted to end the anger. She thought that might do it." He shrugs. "And hey, maybe I had a little trick up my sleeve that night that I wanted to see through."

"A trick?"

Hank winks at me, rounding the table between us. "Merry Christmas, Nick."

"What trick?"

He only gives me a look, and as if he planned the interruption, a man walks up to the booth to shake Hank's hand and wish him a happy holiday season. They must know each other well, because they quickly fall into an easy conversation, all happy laughter and questions about how the other is spending the holiday.

I wait for a moment, wondering if Hank is going to give me any clue whatsoever, until he turns to me and nods pointedly as if to confirm that he will not, in fact, be offering any further explanation.

Noelle normally comes to visit her mom on Christmas Eve and Christmas, but otherwise opts to hang out in the city for the holidays.

Except this year, she'll be visiting me.

She comes back late at night after dropping her sister off at her mom's, and nearly bowls me over as she rushes into the house, her arms loaded heavy with two duffel bags and a Santa sack.

She'll be staying through the new year, and that is the best Christmas present I could have asked for.

I take her bags and a quick kiss from cold lips, and follow her into the living room, where she promptly dumps out the Santa sack onto the ground and arranges the presents beneath the tree. I drop her duffel bags at the bottom of the stairs to worry about later.

"Noelle, what is all this?"

"Don't worry, it's not for you."

I laugh. "I wasn't worried. I thought it was cute. The Christmas elf strikes again."

She's on her hands and knees in front of the tree, stuffing presents underneath it, and she turns to shoot me a glare. "I am not a Christmas elf. But I hate the thought of Christmas presents being stuffed in a bag until the day of, you know? They should be able to breathe. Absorb the feeling of Christmas before doing their duty on the day of and being torn to shreds."

I grin, kneeling down next to her and helping her stuff them all underneath. They're mostly presents for her mom and sister, and a couple small ones for me, but I catch a few that surprise me. Mrs. Nguyen, the librarian who was nice to her in high school. Mrs. Singh, her friend's mom who ran the coffee hut. Naomi, her half-sister, and Cassidy who I can only assume is the other half-sister, considering the similar size and weight of the presents. I smile as I see that she even has one for Hank.

"Noelle," I say, that warming sensation spreading through my chest again. "You are a little Christmas elf."

"Can you please stop saying that?" she groans.

"You love Christmas."

"No, I don't!"

I gesture to all the presents underneath the tree. "You're sweet ."

"I am not!"

I wrap my arms around her, pulling her into my chest and smothering her with every ounce of love I can give her because–like Hank said–she's got a whole lot of love under that prickly exterior of hers.

She's resistant at first, pushing against my chest and groaning. "I am not sweet!"

I kiss her forehead and her cheeks and her lips, and it doesn't take long for her to melt, to tug me closer and kiss me and start pulling at my clothes.

"Do you taste as sweet as you act?" I ask, as I trail my lips down her neck.

"I guess you'll have to find out," she says coyly, pressing away from me with a slick little grin on her face.

On my living room floor in front of the Christmas tree–a place we keep managing to end up naked–I eat my very favorite dessert to the tune of her pleasure ringing out around us. I tease her for being so sweet, and she threatens to throw my presents out and replace them with coal.

I don't have the heart to tell her the only real present I care about is her .

Although she refuses to admit she enjoys it, we spend the night listening to Christmas music, drinking wine, and making cookies that she decorates with curse words and penises, the perfect contrast to my lopsided trees and wreaths. I take her in the kitchen while she's chomping on chocolate-covered berries, and as I'm trying to clean up the mess of chocolate pieces on the counter beneath her, she sinks to her knees and cleans me right out.

We fall into bed tangled up with one another, and I wake in the morning to a smiling girl next to me. She claims it's not because of Christmas, but she grins when I ask her if she wants a special Christmas Eve breakfast.

As we cook in my kitchen, her prancing around in one of my I heart math T-shirts and her bare feet, I get lost watching her. I've wanted something like this for so long that I almost don't believe it. Someone who's a little goofy and a little prickly sometimes, but loves with unequaled ferocity.

She catches me grinning stupidly at her and eyes me, a piece of bacon halfway into her mouth. "What?"

I shake my head. "Just happy you're here."

Her eyes narrow. "And you call me sweet."

I shrug. "We can both be sweet. There's room for both of us to hold the title."

She laughs, shuffling over to me and leaving a kiss on my jaw that sends a shiver all the way down my spine and right back up. She isn't wearing anything under that damn T-shirt, and I can feel her breasts pressing against my chest through the thin fabric.

I thought I might calm down by now. That the frequency with which we've been fucking would let me go half an hour without popping a boner around her.

Apparently not.

So I bend her over my kitchen counter again.

Apparently I really am coming for Christmas.

After a lazy day of food and fucking, we drag ourselves into the shower to get ready for Christmas Eve dinner at Noelle's mom's house. It's a low-key affair, according to Noelle, but she wears a pair of leggings and a sweater so soft that I have trouble keeping my hands off her.

We stuff the presents back into the Santa sack to bring them over for Christmas morning, but I let Noelle arrange them under her mom's tree. She glares at everyone, but I'm confident that inside, my little Christmas elf is enjoying herself.

Helen does a stripped-down version of seven fishes–she gets a pre-packed plate from the grocery store, so all she really has to do is throw it in the oven–and the girls ooh and ahh over the Christmas cookies I decorated, and roll their eyes at the ones Noelle very obviously did. She only grins at their reactions.

Christmas music plays in the background, and I'm just content to be a part of a Christmas Eve like this.

I feel like a kid again, when these traditions were just something I had to get through in order to get to the presents portion of Christmas morning. Except now I have a new appreciation for them. Noelle's family isn't flashy about the holiday, but they are together. And mostly happy about it.

In the years since my mom died, I've joined other families for Christmas. Friends or girlfriends whose families took pity on the kid without one of his own. I've had amazing Christmases and I've had so-so ones, but it feels like there's something more to this one.

It feels a little bit like home.

And that feeling hits me again. The one that tells me I shouldn't get used to this.

I rub the tightness out of my chest as Noelle refills my wine and returns to the couch, a grin on her face as she leaves a kiss on my cheek and takes the spot on the floor at my feet, resting her own glass on the coffee table in front of us. Her mom is next to me, still picking at her dinner because apparently that's how she eats, according to her girls–all the time and everything, but in bird-sized bites. Christina is on the couch adjacent to us, her cast propped on the arm and her phone in her hand.

"Dad says he's excited to see us tomorrow," Christina says, a smile on her face as she glances up at everyone.

Noelle's scoff carries enough weight for the both of us. "I bet he is."

Christina gives her a look. "He's only going to stop by for a little bit, so you can go hide in your bedroom if you're really that opposed to seeing him."

"Thank you. I'll definitely take you up on that offer."

Christina rolls her eyes. Helen sighs. "We're all going to have a very nice holiday. Whether or not your father shows."

Christina's eyes lock on Noelle's. "At least Father Christmas will be coming."

"Christina!" Noelle snaps, reaching over and slapping her on the cast.

"You realize I have a cast there, right? That felt like a light breeze lifting my hair."

"Well, I don't want to actually hurt you on a holiday. That's Dad's job."

Christina's nostrils flare.

"Girls!" Helen says. She turns to me, shaking her head. "Every year, it's the same thing. I swear, their relationship hasn't changed since they were five and nine."

Both girls turn to her, grinning proudly.

"Consistency is key," Noelle says, mock seriously, and I get the feeling they've had this conversation before, too.

Christina nods in agreement. "You can't always rely on motivation, but as long as you've got consistency, you'll see success."

Helen rolls her eyes. "Motivational posters from a science teacher they both had."

I nod. "Mrs. Larson. She still has them up."

"Oh, really? That's too funny."

"To be fair, now that I've gotten to know her a bit, I think those posters are sarcastic."

Noelle raises her eyebrows. "You're kidding."

I shake my head. "She's a wild woman. Definitely the coolest teacher at school, but she has a dry sense of humor that I think goes right over most students' heads."

Noelle nods. "Well, I think I like her even more now. She was always one of my favorites."

"I'm surprised you didn't get her a Christmas present," I say, knocking her shoulder with my knee.

Noelle's face flushes, and Christina's eyes narrow in on her. "Did you buy a teacher a present?"

Noelle takes a quick sip of her wine. "Well, I had to get Nick something."

"And Mrs. Nguyen."

It takes Christina a second to recognize the name. "You did ? You're such a nerd, buying the librarian a gift!"

Noelle points at her. "You should be thanking her because the love for reading she gave me is what eventually led you to those spicy cowboy novels you love so much."

Christina flushes. "Noelle!"

Helen sighs. "Oh, Christmas."

Noelle twists to face me. "You better be careful or I'm going to rescind next year's invitation."

"I was already given an invitation for next year?"

She shrugs sheepishly. "I mean, you know, it's implied, if..."

I rest my wine on the coffee table and reach down to tug her up into my lap, audience be damned, and give her an indulgent kiss on the cheek. "This is my favorite Christmas."

She raises her eyebrows, one elbow propped on the couch next to my head. "Yeah?"

I nod. "You're going to have to fight me off next year. But don't worry, I'll come armed with an array of things to roast you over."

"Yes!" Christina shouts. "I knew I liked him!"

Noelle rolls her eyes at her sister but gives me a small smile. "I think this is my favorite Christmas, too."

And then she kisses me, and there's a part of me that's aware her mom is grumbling and looking away, and her sister is saying, 'Eww,' repeatedly and telling us to get a room, but I can't get over how nice it feels to hold her in my arms and know that I'll see her grumpy, smiling face all throughout my holiday.

On Christmas morning, I wake up to Noelle scooting her butt back into me. I give it a nice squeeze, groaning at the way it feels in my hand because it fits just right . When she notices I'm awake, she twists around and kisses me, hitching one leg around my waist and tugging me close.

"Merry Christmas," I say, as her lips brush against mine.

She hums. "MerryChristmas," she murmurs, her hand dragging along my dick. My arms tighten around her, and she takes the opportunity to straddle me, to tug my underwear down and have her way with me.

And I realize very quickly that this was the Christmas morning I always wanted.

I know her body now, how she likes to be touched and what makes her cry out for me. I know the pinched look that overtakes her face as her movements become more languid means she's about to come.

I know she's going to whimper as I grab hold of her hips and tug her down underneath me. The feeling of her nails digging into my back and the way her legs will wrap around my waist and urge me deeper until I spill inside her.

And afterward, she's going to leave kisses all along my chest and my neck. She's going to make it to the coffeemaker first and somehow make it better than I ever do, despite using the same simple formula. She's going to smile as she opens her presents and laugh when she sees what I got her, and so help me god, I don't know if I can go back to Christmas without her after this.

Before we get out of bed, I hold her close, selfishly savoring this moment. I brush my lips over every part of her, hoping that one of these kisses might be the reason she stays.

When we get downstairs, we sit with our coffee in front of the Christmas tree. She unwraps her favorite I heart math T-shirt–the one that she keeps gravitating toward because it's a little old and worn out and very, very pink–as well as the Grinch ornament, a candle that smelled like something she'd like, and a crocheted egg that I found at the market a few days ago, because if it weren't for a damn egg, we wouldn't know each other.

She nearly falls over herself laughing as she realizes what it is, and then crawls toward me, giving me one big long kiss in thanks.

And then I tear open my presents. A red and white striped blanket not unlike the one I saw in her mom's house last night. Christmas-themed cookie cutters. A mug that says I heart math and a Rubik's cube that spells out NERDNERDNERD around the four sides when you solve it correctly.

Just like she did, I dissolve into a pile of laughter.

It's not an overindulgent Christmas–it's probably a lot for the short time we've known each other–but it's ours.

It's everything.

We whip up some scrambled eggs before heading over to her mom's house for Christmas breakfast and presents–Noelle said she usually makes a big spread, and I will not be the type of guest who shows up empty-handed. Eggs were the only truly breakfast-y thing Helen said she could use help with.

So, eggs it is. To our absolute delight. We can't stop laughing the entire time they're on the stove.

When we get there, large container of scrambled eggs in hand, Noelle transfers the dish to the counter where an array of breakfast food is already laid out. Bacon, sausage, various pastries, donuts, and plenty of fruit.

"Thank you for taking care of the eggs, that's so sweet of you. And now I have eggs for the week! No need to go grocery shopping tomorrow," Helen says to me, giving me a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you."

"Of course."

"I helped," Noelle insists.

"Sure, sweetie," Helen says, patting her hand. Noelle throws her hands out in front of her. Without another glance, Helen gestures to the counter. "We have so much food so please, eat up. It's not Christmas unless you've got a tummy ache."

So we fill our plates and move into the living room, where Christina is already propped up on the couch with one leg on a pillow. She waves hello as she spears a bite of sausage on her fork and pops it in her mouth. She's wearing Christmas jammies embroidered with her initials.

Helen follows us in a moment later, taking a spot on the floor with her plate to distribute the presents from underneath the tree.

"Can we wait until Dad is here?" Christina asks, her nose in her phone.

Even I balk at this question. Helen pauses and exchanges a look with Noelle.

"Honey, we don't usually wait for your dad to get here," Helen says, continuing to distribute the presents.

"I know. But he said specifically that he'd come in the morning. And I know he's flaky, but I feel like we can give him the benefit of the doubt. It's Christmas, after all. And we don't want to teach him that even when he does show up, we don't believe in him."

I press my lips together, suddenly insanely curious how this family handles Christina on Christmas.

Noelle raises her eyebrows and, with a pointed look at Christina, rips open her first present. "Oh, shoot. Looks like we already started without him. Too bad."

Helen rolls her eyes. "Okay, no need for that, Noelle," she says, and turns to Christina. "I have a little something special planned this year. So while we don't need to start right now, I would like to start sooner rather than later."

Noelle's brow furrows. "You have something special planned? What is it?"

"It's a surprise."

"Right, but what is it?" Noelle asks again.

Helen gives her a look. "Noelle, I'm not going to tell you if it's a surprise."

Noelle gestures to Christina. "Well, she's the Christmas one. I assume the surprise is for her, right?"

Helen shrugs. "It's for everyone. I just... don't want it waiting too long, you know?"

Noelle narrows her eyes. "Did you get a dog? Is it wrapped in one of these presents and you're worried about the air holes?"

Helen rolls her eyes. "No, honey. I wouldn't do that. It's dangerous."

"Okay," Noelle says, leaning over to take a bite of the scrambled eggs on her plate. "Then I guess we wait? Just a little?"

Helen nods, doling out the last of the presents right at my feet. "Just a little," she agrees.

I stare at the pile in front of me, feeling a little winded that it's nearly as big as the girls' piles. "I didn't get you enough," I blurt.

The girls laugh. Noelle pats my knee. "Half the fun of presents at Christmas is the unwrapping. My guess is there's a whole lot of fruit in there. Maybe a cookie or two if my mom was feeling a little whimsy last night. And I would bet good money there's at least one charging cable whose real home is a mystery."

Helen rolls her eyes. "That only happened one year."

"Old kitchen utensils," Christina contributes.

"DVD cases without the DVDs in them," Noelle says.

"Oh! Water bottles. Fresh from the fridge so the wrapping paper was wet."

The girls dissolve into laughter as Noelle finishes unwrapping the one that she started and holds it up for the group to see, hardly able to speak through her laughter. "A single roll of toilet paper," she says, wiping tears from underneath her eyes. "I think this one takes the cake."

"Just making sure you're Christmas isn't shitty," Helen says, and their laughter doubles. Noelle presses her face into my arm, the roll of toilet paper shaking in her hand.

"Thank you, Mom. I love you," she says, crawling forward to leave a quick kiss on her mom's cheek.

"Love you too, sweetie."

And then a booming voice cuts through the noise. "HO HO HO!"

Noelle jumps, Helen grimaces, and Christina twists on the couch with a look of delight on her face that drops when she realizes the voice is not, in fact, her dad's.

It's Hank’s.

"MERRY CHRISTMAS!" he bellows, emerging from the hallway dressed in a full Santa suit with a sack thrown over his shoulder. He has a fake white beard attached to his face and waves at us like he's royalty.

"Hank," Helen groans, dropping her face into her hands.

"I COME BEARING PRESENTS FOR THE CHILDREN!"

Noelle's face is pure joy as she grins up at him.

"Hank, you were supposed to wait until I said the word!"

He pauses, shaking his head. "Helen, what was the word? I heard everybody laughing and I didn't feel like hiding out anymore. It's been hours ."

Christina cocks her head to the side. "When did you get here?"

He clears his throat. Helen looks away.

"Were you here all night?" Christina asks, eyes wide as she looks from Hank to her mom. "Mom, was he here all night?"

She shrugs. "Yes."

"Oh!" Christina says. "And in the room right next to mine? Mom!"

Helen shakes her head. "Christina, I'm a grown woman with needs. Just like the two of you. And I'm happy, so you're welcome to go stay at your new apartment if it makes you uncomfortable."

She looks at Hank again, and he only shrugs in response.

"This is the best Christmas ever," Noelle mutters, and I can't help wrapping my arms around her and leaving a big kiss on her cheek. When she turns to me, she still has that big grin on her face, and she winds her arms around my neck to pull me close and kiss me. When she speaks again, her voice is lower. " Now, it's the best Christmas ever."

"Alright, so we've got a bunch of presents to hand out to the kids," Hank says, putting on his Santa voice again and kneeling in front of the tree. He reaches into the Santa bag and pulls out the first present, noting the name on it and passing it to Noelle.

"Thanks, Hanky Panky," she says.

He pauses, narrowing his eyes before giving her a quick wink. "Only your mother's allowed to call me that."

Noelle's nose crinkles. "Ew."

He grins. "Yeah, that's what I thought." He turns back to his Santa sack. "Christina!" He throws a present over his shoulder that she just barely catches.

"Hank, I'm broken!"

"You're as broken as your sister is a criminal."

Christina raises her eyebrows, her gaze catching mine for a second as she lets out a puff of laughter.

"Helen, dear," Hank says, handing a present back to her. I catch Noelle smiling to herself at the interaction.

We eat, and we accept presents from Santa, and we laugh hard enough that my cheeks hurt. Noelle leans against me and gives me surreptitious kisses every once in a while, a contented look on her face until she sees her sister frowning at her phone.

Noelle crumples up her discarded wrapping paper and chucks it at her, hitting her square on the nose. Christina flips her off in response.

"Pay attention to Christmas," Noelle says.

Christina huffs. "Dad isn't answering me back, and it isn't going to be morning for much longer."

"He's probably just busy, honey," Helen says, rubbing her knee.

"He said he'd be here."

Noelle sighs, reluctantly digging her phone out of her pocket to see if he texted her.

Her brow furrows as she taps and scrolls. "Naomi texted me."

Christina leans forward. "What did she say?"

Noelle starts typing back. "She said she hopes we're having a nice Christmas with Dad." She frowns. "She asked if we'd ever consider doing Christmas together so they could see him too."

Christina holds her hand over her heart. "Okay, that hit me where it hurts."

Noelle shakes her head. "I'm asking her to explain further."

With that, Christmas takes a more somber tone. Noelle sends her text, and then we wait, each of us picking at the ends of our food. Helen thumbs the edge of a piece of wrapping paper sticking out from one of her boxes. Christina purses her lips, staring at her phone. Hank sits on the ground in front of the tree, tugging his fake beard down around his neck.

And all I can do is suppress my anger that someone has all of this –has two of this–yet has the audacity to blow off people who love him. Who are so ready to look past all of his faults and accept him anyway.

I would give everything for a fraction of this.

And he can't even fucking show up.

When Noelle's phone lights up again, we collectively lean forward.

"She said Dad told her he'd be spending Christmas with us this year. That after all the time he's spent with them–" Noelle pauses. "That after all the time he's spent with them, now that her parents are separated, he needs to split his time better." She looks up at her mom. "They separated?"

Helen shrugs. "I don't talk to him. How would I know?"

Christina blinks. "So he told them he'd be spending Christmas with us. And he told us he'd stop by for a few minutes . Where the fuck is he, then?"

Noelle starts texting rapid fire again, leaving her phone unlocked on the coffee table since Naomi seems to be at hers.

I rub my chest where heartburn is threatening to take me down. How dare he, how dare he, how dare he.

A minute later, another text comes in, and Noelle summarizes it for the group, starting with a sigh and a, "This poor girl." She shakes her head. "She says Dad's been living at the Goldmans' old place. That he's been flaking out on them for a while now and she had a feeling he was lying about seeing his family this Christmas. That's why she looked me up and found my phone number. Because she wanted proof that he's the jackass she thinks he is."

Noelle taps her fingers along the side of her phone, glancing up at her mom. "Can I invite them here?"

Helen's eyes go wide. "You want to invite them here ?"

Noelle shrugs. "They are technically family , right? And it sounds like they're having a rough day."

Helen swallows and nods. "Of course. The more, the merrier."