Christmas Criminal

22. Nick

22

NICK

Wednesday, December 25th

I stare at the Goldmans' old house, fixated on the first floor window with the light on. Every once in a while, the shadow of a man passes in front of it, a beer in one hand.

It makes my blood boil. My hair stand on end. My fists clench.

It makes me feel all sorts of emotions that Noelle picks up on so clearly.

When she said that to me, it was a lightbulb moment in my head. This whole time, I've been worried that my emotions wouldn't be enough for her. That she'd leave just like Emily left, all the while telling me she wants more passion from me. That she wants me to fight for her.

Well, here's my fight.

Turns out it's easy when someone slights the one you love.

He's home alone, as far as I can tell, drinking by himself on Christmas instead of hanging out with the amazing group of women who are so willing to forgive him despite his shortcomings.

I'd be so lucky to have what he has.

And because I don't want to waste another moment away from them, I open the carton of eggs in my hand and take one out, throwing it gently into the air and catching it without breaking it.

This is the path Noelle took when she was angry.

Today, we're going to see if it truly is as cathartic as she said it was.

I chuck it at the house, feeling an immense rush of pleasure at the light cracking noise it makes against the front door.

The silhouette in the window pauses, and then takes a step closer. I can only imagine he's peering out, trying to determine what that noise was.

I chuck another egg, this time at that exact window, and see the figure rear back.

I throw another one at the front door before he storms through the house, flinging it open and screaming out at me.

"Hey man, I don't know what the fuck you're doing but you can knock it right off!"

I take another egg out, throwing it gently into the air again, and lob it at one of the second floor windows.

Good luck cleaning that, jackass.

"Hey, what the fuck?" he says, storming out further.

When he's only a few feet away from me, beer bottle dangling from between his fingers, he pauses. "Wait, are you the guy who's dating my daughter? I fucking knew you were bad news."

I scoff, taking another egg out and throwing it at the front door. "Yeah, I'm bad news. I'm a fucking math teacher, dude."

He points at me, his beer bottle sloshing as he does. "Get the fuck off my property."

"Not until I've thrown all dozen eggs."

He shakes his head as he rushes toward me, but I hold them out of reach before he can grab them.

As I take another and attempt to throw it at the front door, he moves in just the right way that, instead, it hits him right on the forehead.

His eyes are wild when he fixes them on me.

And for the first time, I wonder if I made the wrong decision.

He charges at me, and in my state of surprise, I don't manage to move out of the way before his fist connects with my eye.

I see stars as I stumble backward, holding the eggs to my chest.

And then I realize it's not stars I'm seeing, but the red and blue lights of a police cruiser. It lets out a whoop whoop as it pulls gently out from behind an oversized van parked along the curb.

"Fuuuuuuck," Noelle's dad shouts, chugging the rest of his beer as the cruiser slowly moves toward us, turning at the last second so we have a clear view of Hank pushing the door open and stepping out, Santa suit and all.

"Back of the fucking car, Tom," Hank barks, opening it for him.

He throws the empty bottle onto the ground with a dramatic shatter and trudges over, tucking himself into the backseat while cursing both of us out.

Hank stalks toward me, hands on his hips. "Are you gonna go ahead and finish off those eggs? Or are you going to take that punch for nothing?"

I don't hesitate. One by one, I hit each of his windows and the door a couple more times, too.

Hank sighs when I'm done and claps a hand on my shoulder. "Come on, let's get you back to the girls. Noelle is worried about you. And it's probably best to get you back there before that eye of yours gets any worse."

My hand flies up to my face, and as my fingers brush over the skin below my eye, I flinch.

"Yeah, you're gonna be looking real pretty for a couple weeks."

I swallow. "So I'm not in trouble?"

He sighs. "Look, I'll deal with you later. For now, let's get you back to Christmas."

Back to Christmas. Back to Noelle.

I can feel my eye swelling as I turn toward my car, and when I try to open it and pinch it closed again, my contact pops right out of my eye and falls to the ground.

Probably for the best, if it's only going to get worse.

But driving with one eye when it's starting to get dark out feels like a recipe for disaster.

"Uh, Hank? Could I possibly get a ride? I don't think I can see well enough to drive."

He lets out a long sigh. "Yeah. Hop in."

I get in the passenger side and spend an incredibly awkward ten minutes of silence with Hank and Noelle's dad until we finally reach the police station and Hank walks him inside. They're only gone for a few minutes before Hank comes out again, a certain lightness in his step.

He grins when he gets back in the car.

"What's got you so happy?"

He shrugs. "My girl Shelly is working the front desk, and if there's one thing she hates more than crime, it's crime committed on a holiday. Tom is gonna be in for a long night, I can promise you that."

I can't help the laugh that escapes me.

"Alright, let's get you back to the girls," Hank says, turning the car on and directing us back to Helen's.

When I initially left with a carton of eggs in my hand, I felt it was my duty to tell Noelle's dad to fuck right off.

But now that I'm on my way back, I feel silly.

I left Christmas to enact my revenge on somebody who didn't even do me wrong.

But maybe that's the catharsis Noelle was talking about, big emotions evaporating with every egg thrown.

By the time Hank pulls in the driveway, I decide to ditch my second contact too, because I already have a headache. Whether it's from getting punched or being visually impaired, I'll never know.

I lean my head back against the headrest, trying to build up the courage to go in there and explain what the fuck happened that has me showing up with a black eye.

"Come on, Nick. Rip the Band-Aid off," Hank says, sensing my discomfort.

"This is going to be terrible."

"Only gets worse the longer you push it off." He pushes his door open and steps out. "Let's go!"

I begrudgingly follow him up the path to the front door. He pushes inside comfortably, like this is something he does all the time, and leaves his keys on the rack by the door. I follow him back into the living room, where six smiling faces drop at the sight of my eye.

"Nick!" Noelle's voice cuts through everyone else's. She's up in an instant, climbing over ripped open presents and her mom in between us. "What happened?" Her hands are on my chin, turning my face back and forth with strong fingers. Her brow is furrowed, her eyes wide with concern.

And I wrap my arms around her, squeezing her tight and breathing in that chocolate rose scent of hers that's become my favorite scent.

She squeezes me back, sensing my need for it.

"I'm sorry," I whisper into the skin of her neck, as everyone follows her over, face pinched in concern as they spread in a semicircle around us.

"For what?"

I swallow, lifting my head to look at her. She shakes her head, almost imperceptibly as she waits for me to answer.

Hank, apparently, is sick of waiting for the story to come out. "I picked up your boyfriend with a carton of eggs outside your dad's house."

I watch her expression carefully. She blinks, a grin slowly spreading across her face as she turns to Hank. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Apparently you're a bad influence," Hank tells her. "Here I was hoping it would work the other way around."

Noelle presses her lips together, trying her hardest to contain her laughter. She turns to me, her thumb brushing across my cheek lightly so she doesn't hurt me. "Why were you throwing eggs at my dad's house?"

I bite my lip before speaking. "Because he pissed me off. He's got a room full of good women who are willing to forgive him for any slight. To accept him for the sake of having family around at Christmas, and that asshole was in his shitty old house, drinking alone. When he could have this , just by showing up."

"Aw, Nick," Noelle says, wrapping an arm around my waist and pressing a light kiss to my cheek.

I shake my head. "I know that what I did was wrong and stupid and ridiculous, but how dare he? How dare he see this and not recognize how lucky he is? I would have killed for this growing up. Especially after my mom died. And he can't even fucking show up. Fuck that guy. I hate him." And then I realize I'm in a room with people who love him, regardless. "I'm sorry. I know he's family and that things are complicated. I'm sure he's still a good dad sometimes. But today, he wasn't. And I will stand by that."

And then I tell myself that I need to stop talking .

Because everyone is staring at me. I have to squint to see their expressions and I probably look like a psychopath with my rapidly swelling eye. Christina has a slight smile on her face, and Naomi is grinning like the Cheshire cat. Noelle presses herself into me, her hands running soothingly across my back.

And apparently I can't shut up. "And I hate that he's part of the reason you hate this town. It's not fair that he's the one who fucked up but I'm the one who suffers for it."

" You're the one who suffers for it?"

I look at the ceiling through blurry eyes. "You don't want to be here. And that's my loss. Not his."

"Nick," she says. "I'll find a way to be here."

"What does that even mean? We'll take turns visiting each other on weekends? Every other Friday you'll work remotely and come an extra day? That's not good enough for me. I want more and I hate that it's on the tip of my fingers and I can't reach out and take it." My fingers dig into her skin like the harder I hold on, the more likely it is she'll stay.

She rests a hand on my chest. "I will be here," she says, her voice sure. "I promise you, right now, I'll be here. I'll figure out how to work remotely more often. I'll give up my apartment and move closer." She stands on her toes to kiss me, and it's all I can do to hold on to her.

She lowers her voice when she speaks again, her words only for me. "I want more, too. I want you. And I promise you that I will always let my love for you guide me rather than my hatred for him."

She's not saying she loves me, but she is saying that she's open to it. That I matter more than her experience here.

And I think there was a part of me that really needed to hear that, because my breath comes whooshing out of my chest like I've been holding onto it for the last few weeks.

"Noelle," I breathe, wrapping her tight in my arms and closing my eyes, my cheek pressed against her head.

"It's a Christmas miracle," Hank says, breaking the silence around us.

"Gross," Naomi mutters, as she turns on her heel and heads back to the couch.

Noelle leans away from me, running her thumb along my cheek again. "Who woulda thunk, a month ago when I started my community service, that we'd end up here?"

I see movement over her shoulder and squint in that direction.

And if I'm not mistaken, Hank winks at me.

Santa, indeed.