Silent Night (Twisted Holidays)

10. Hayley

TEN

HAYLEY

Saint gets strangely quiet after I finish talking, his stare locked on the tree instead of me. I feel him pulling away and try to remind myself this is positive because my stranger in the night can’t be permanent. Not when I’m returning to school in two days and he’s going…somewhere.

“Even though I can’t keep you, you’re mine now, and I protect what little I can call mine.”

As messed-up as it may be, I have become his in the past twenty-four hours. A part of me will always belong to my dark thief. He was the Christmas miracle I didn’t realize I was waiting on.

“If anyone , your stepbrother or otherwise, even considers harming you, I’ll hunt them the fuck down, Hayley. I don’t care if I have to travel from one end of the country to you, I’ll always protect you. Even though I can’t keep you, you’re mine now, and I protect what little I can call mine.”

Those aren’t words from someone who doesn’t care.

Abruptly, Saint stands, pulling on his jeans and then his shirt before silently walking away from me. Tears prick my eyes, but I bite my tongue and gather my clothes, redressing in case Bentley returns from wherever he disappeared to. I won’t cry yet. Won’t allow myself to feel any of this .

Saint returns after a couple of minutes to find me partially dressed and staring glumly at the tree, the memory of what we did in front of it replaying in my head. This really has been the best Christmas I’ve had in a long time, and while I’m sure a psychologist would love nothing more than to pick that tidbit apart—that my happiest holiday is with a criminal over my family—it doesn’t make it any less the truth.

He scans me once, frowns, and then comes for me, one arm beneath my legs, the other around my back and he lifts me, carrying me from the living room. Silently and swiftly, he carries me up the stairs, but instead of going to my bedroom, he stops at the first door in the hallway: the bathroom. The light’s already on, and soapy water fills the tub.

He prepared a bath for me.

While I’m finding the words, Saint peels off what little clothing I managed to put back on and lowers me into the tub. The water is hot, but doesn’t burn, and immediately muscles I hadn’t realized were tense unknot. My head falls back against the wall while my eyes fight to stay open.

Saint takes a seat on the edge of the tub and walks his fingers from my chest to my neck. He bends and presses a kiss to my lips, and then my forehead, sighing before pulling away, his dark eyes a shadow of themselves.

“This is it, isn’t it?”

He nods, pressing his lips together. “I didn’t expect this job to go anything like how it had, but I have no regrets. Anyway, you’re going back to school soon and I don’t like to hang around one place too long.”

Suddenly, being naked around him feels too much, and thankful for the bubbles he’s filled the tub with, I pull them close to me, shielding myself from his gaze.

He watches me, frowning but not stopping me. “I’m sorry for ruining your holiday.”

“You didn’t.”

His next smile doesn’t meet his eyes, like he doesn’t believe me. “ You’re still too innocent. Don’t feed the next strange man who tries to rob from you.”

Only you.

He stands, moving to the doorway. “Goodbye, my sweet girl. Remember what I said.”

With that, he’s gone.

Again.

A few minutes later, I hear the front door shut.

I wonder what else he took from beneath the tree.

And decide I don’t care.

It’s hours later when I finally get out of the bath, long after the water has cooled and when I realize it’s now nine at night, and Bentley could be back soon. I dry off and head to my room, dressing in the first pyjamas I find in my suitcase and then sliding into bed, doing my hardest not to look out the window and wonder where Saint is. No doubt, off on his adventures, getting far away from here. At the last second, I part the curtains, needing to feel that much closer to him.

I try not to let it hurt. Try not to cry on Christmas. Try not to feel anything about the stranger who snuck into this house and into my life and gave me a taste of what I’d been missing. How he saw me in ways few others have, even after only a day.

The door thumps from way down below and I turn over to face the window in case Bentley decides to check if I’m awake or not. Wherever he’s been and whatever he has to say about my surprise boyfriend can shove it.

Heavy, threatening steps tread up the stairs, and I think about exactly how heavy he’s walking for me to hear them over the staircase’s carpet and behind my shut door. They approach my door before disappearing into the one across, and with a sigh, I shut my eyes, thankful I won’t have to deal with him tonight. Or for much longer. One more day and then I’ll be heading home and he can return to the fancy condo he crawled out of.

I’m dozing off to the thoughts of Christmas lights and a particular wicked boy in the nighttime when my door abruptly slams open, the knob hitting the wall hard enough it probably left a dent.

A light switches on, blinding me, and I’m barely upright, a shout of, “What the fuck , Bentley?” scarcely out of my mouth before he’s beside me, bearing down, his arms on either side of my body.

I recline on the bed to get away from him, realizing my mistake a second too late because I’m exactly where he wants me. He crowds me even more, ensuring I have no way of escaping.

“Who the fuck is he really?” The scent of stale beer wafts off him, his crazed eyes narrowed. He staggers slightly, like even the grip he has on my sheets isn’t enough to stabilize him. “He’s not your boyfriend, so don’t give me that bullshit.”

“Bentley!” I push into his chest, but he doesn’t budge. “Get the hell off me, you maniac!”

“Who. Is. He?” His teeth bare beneath his curled lip.

“Believe me or don’t, but it’s none of your business either way.”

It must have been the wrong thing to say because he rips the blanket off me, but I don’t give him the chance to do anything before kicking a leg into him and rolling to the other side of the bed. Another mistake, since now I’m farther from the door. He might have strength and size on his side, but he’s wasted and unfocused, so hopefully that works to my benefit.

I run around the bed only for him to move so much quicker than expected. His arm bands around my waist, shoving me backwards.

“Bentley! What the fuck is wrong with?—”

Smack!

The sting registers on my cheek seconds before my back hits the window, the cold glass would otherwise be a bother if it wasn’t for the situation. He lunges at me, one hand clamping around my neck, squeezing tightly.

“You lied to me tonight, you little whore.”

I tip my chin forward, trying to give him the least space as possible while my hands claw at his arm, seeking freedom. His fingers pinch my throat, cutting off my airways, and my hits are doing little to distract him.

“Bentley…let me?—”

He snarls, his eyes narrowing while his other hand slips beneath the edge of my tank. “I’d like to see what all the fuss is about first.”

My heart hammers as sweat breaks out on my brow and fear consumes me, threatening to lock my muscles. I can’t fight him, not completely, not like this. He’s too strong and his grip is making my vision blurry, my blood rushing through my ears until it’s all I can hear. My focus remains on the meager sucks of breath I’m able to take.

“S-stop…Let…go…”

Then he does. He’s ripped off me with a loud bang. A crash of fury. Of fists.

By a man who says things like, “ I protect what little I can call mine.”