Silent Night (Twisted Holidays)

Epilogue

SAINT

One and a Half Months Later

My innocent, sweet girl left me a note when I returned to her room. I waited until all the cops cleared out before sneaking inside, using the shadows of the moon to get inside and leave the gift I spent hours that day picking out.

It’s the only thing I’d ever gifted to another person, and the only one I’d ever. That much I already knew.

In the very place I left it was an unaddressed note, but I knew it was for me.

Hayley Ellison.

With her phone number scribbled on the bottom.

I tucked the paper away, hoping I’d get the chance to use it one day, when I returned to stake out the police station, holding my breath until Hayley exited the building with her mother. She wasn’t imprisoned, so it was with a final longing look, I disappeared for good, her contact information now the most valuable thing I’ve ever gotten .

After two weeks of pretending she didn’t consume my every thought, I looked her up. With her last name and the help of free computer usage at a public library, she was too easy to find. Apparently, she’s one of those people who posts so much of her life online.

If I wasn’t already obsessed, I became so then. For hours, I poured over every detail of her that I dug up. Old pictures on social media of her friends at high school parties and sporting events. More recent photos of her apartment and of the landscapes surrounding it. Landscapes with a location marked, making it all too easy to travel to.

Hayley once asked me if I’d ever find a place to remain in for good.

Now I have. Settled into a real job at a factory and am renting an apartment that isn’t run-down and everything. Got the brand-new stolen phone activated and imputed her number into it, the only one other than my new boss’s number that’s listed in the contacts app.

For the month since arriving, I’ve stalked her from afar. At first, holding back to remain out of her life before intruding where I didn’t belong. Now that the holidays passed, and our time together, she’s free to pretend what happened didn’t.

Then one day, I was inside the university’s library, watching her study at a table from my place hidden behind shelves, and she pulled out the journal, and with it, signed herself to me in every other way she had yet to.

So now, I’m on the rickety metal balcony attached to her apartment after using the others around hers to climb to this point. The lock keeping her door shut is weak, and exactly as the clock strikes midnight on February fourteenth, Valentine’s Day, I break inside her apartment, tucking the package of chocolate hearts beneath my arm.

The place smells like her. Sweet and addicting, like sugar cookies on Christmas morning—a scent I’m only familiar with from sneaking into homes after they’ve been baked, but also a scent I vow to recreate with her next Christmas. I pace through the living room, past the small couch and moderate-sized TV, stepping over stacks of textbooks I’ve seen her lugging throughout campus, and toward the bedroom.

Her door is cracked a couple inches and I take that as an invite, slipping inside and keeping my steps quiet while crossing the room. Like the room in her stepfather’s place—ex-stepdad now, I suppose, since I saw the reports of their divorce online when the news outlets asked for an interview on the one-month anniversary of his son’s death—her bed is in line with the window, the curtain drawn. The streetlights beyond the window light my path to her side.

She’s sleeping facing it, her expression calm and peaceful. Curls fall over her forehead and I brush them away from her face, letting my fingers linger on her skin before dipping to stroke her lips, craving the taste of them. It’s been entirely too long, and a length of time I’ll never allow to pass again.

I continue touching her, tugging the blanket down as I bare more of her body, exactly like I did on Christmas Eve. Goosebumps sprout over her arms, her thighs, but I continue, dipping low to trail my lips down the same path.

She mumbles, rolling over in her sleep, which only makes it all the better. With a smile, I trace over the front of her tank, watching her nipples bud. I follow the path to the patch of skin above her hip, and still, she doesn’t wake.

My sweet girl’s ready for me. She’s not wearing pants, like she hoped I’d eventually come for her. I’m too greedy to wait—a notion I now completely and utterly embrace—and slot myself between her thighs. After a final peek at her face, I draw her panties to the side and cover her core with my mouth.

She jolts awake, her legs kicking naturally at the intrusion, but with a heavy hand on each one, I keep her still and climb up her body, letting her panicked, sleepy state process the sight of me.

After three blinks, her limbs go limp. She dabs her tongue against her bottom lip and my cock jumps to life .

“S-Saint?”

“Yeah, sweet girl. I’m here. I couldn’t stay away.”

Her eyes dart to her window and back. “How’d you get in?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“You never contacted me. I hoped you’d borrow a phone or something. Call me.” Red tinges her cheeks, reminding me of the first night with her. “I mean, I guess, you were busy roaming cities.” Her brows dip with that last comment, gaze going to another place. “How’d you find me?”

“You post a lot on social media,” I answer her last question before sliding the cell from my pocket.

Her gaze lights up as comprehension settles. “You kept it?”

“Somehow, I knew I’d need it one day. I decided to skip the texting and come myself. I’ve missed you, Hayley. Once I figured out which city you live in, I booked a flight here. Got settled into a place. Got a job—a legal one. Figured I’d stick around for a bit.”

“A bit” being as long as Hayley is here too, and I know she understands the meaning behind my statement.

“How long have you been here?”

“A month.”

More realization dawns. “You’ve been stalking me.”

“Yep,” I answer, crawling farther up the bed as this conversation, while necessary, grows tiresome. “I wanted to see you in your life. I wanted to ensure you were still mine, that there wasn’t any assholes hovering around what I’ve claimed. Hayley, before you, I despised the concept of greed. Probably ‘cause I never got the chance to experience it for myself. And Christmas is the worst time of year for people’s greediness. Kids demanding one present after the next. Adults wanting the latest tech to replace what they only got last year. Meanwhile, December twenty-fifth has always been a shitty day for me. It’s my birthday, and no day before meeting you has ever been truly worth living. ”

Her mouth slips open. “You mean, this whole time, it was your birthday too? You never said anything!”

“Didn’t have to. My wishes already came true.” I give her a meaningful look before finishing my story. “Christmas is also the day I was tossed out as a kid, forced to figure out the streets for myself. My greatest desire was food and shelter. It’s why I stole. The people I robbed didn’t need the extras; they had enough. But then, my sweet girl, you found me—twice. Once, you helped me. The second time, you fed me, handed me the very items I was about to steal, hid me, and then robbed from me.”

“Robbed fr?—”

I push a finger against her lips to stop her from talking. “You reached your little, innocent hand into my chest, twisted, and ripped my heart out, keeping it for yourself. It’s been almost two months, and I’ve decided, between the two of us, you’re the greedy one because you never gave it back. But that doesn’t mean I’m not greedy for yours in return. You own me, Hayley. You have the power to send me to prison, to destroy what little happiness I want, but I’d think of no better owner.”

When I finish talking, my breaths come out heavier, and Hayley looks seconds from exploding with emotion. Her hands come up to my chest before cupping my face and she inches down on the bed, wrapping herself around me.

“That was some speech, Saint.”

“The fuckin’ truth.” Fisting her hair, I yank her head back and drag her onto my lap, right over my cock. “I’ll never be the man you deserve, but I’m done running from what I want. I’m claiming it instead. Claiming you . I got a place, a job, now I just need the girl, and my happy-ever-after is complete.”

“I haven’t been the same since you walked into my life, and I don’t want to start now.” Her hands drop to my waist and she begins unzipping me, reaching her hand in for my cock. After a few strokes, I’m hard, and she shifts her panties to the side to open herself up for me. “You stole Christmas that night. You stole me . Now, you’ll have to keep me. ”

“I can think of no better path forward. I plan on spending every holiday spoiling you. Making you as greedy as every other asshole out there because I get it now. People are spoiled when they have something to be indulgent for.” I reach down for the heart-shaped pink box and rest it on the bed beside her, smiling crookedly. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Hayley.

She stares at the box, emotion filling her eyes as she faces me again, holding my cheek. “I plan on giving you Christmases— and birthdays—worth coming home for, Saint. You’ll never be walking the streets alone. We’ll get a tree, and I’ll teach you how to bake sugar cookies, and we’ll pack our place with all the silly, bright holiday decorations. We’ll have birthday cake and presents to celebrate both holidays.”

Our place. She truly has no idea how much she’s giving me with that promise. I’ll never be stalking affluent neighbourhoods again, jealous of their holiday cheer because I have mine right here with me.

I sweep her beneath me, covering her with my body.

“Ho, Ho, Ho, and to quote my idol, the Grinch: I’m all toasty inside. I love you, Hayley.”

“My thief in the night, I love you too. But it’s been too long. Fuck me, Saint.”

So I do, proving to her, I’m no saint.

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