Under the Mistle-Foe (Christmas Falls: Season 2)

Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

REMY

Tuesdays were the diner’s one day off. Dad and I hung on the couch, Dad with his leg propped up as he tried to scratch an itch on his broken leg. I glared at him anytime he picked something thin enough to stuff inside the cast.

I tried to focus on the TV that played in the background, but Dad’s loud groaning was far too distracting. He picked up the remote and tried to shove the thing underneath his cast. He obviously didn’t understand girth, if he thought it’d fit.

“Okay, that’s it. We need to do something to take your mind off your leg,” I said, snatching the remote before he broke the thing.

Dad let out the loudest frustrated sigh in the history of sighs as he sank into the couch. “Take me to Rob’s. He’s having the boys over for cards tonight. I’ll head over early and bug him.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said and helped my dad with his crutches. Since Uncle Rob only lived a few houses down, Dad stubbornly insisted on walking there. I kept my eyes firmly on him in case he took a tumble, while he kept grumbling that he was fine.

Once I had him at Uncle Rob’s, it would be his turn to fuss over Dad, and I’d be free to do whatever the hell I wanted the rest of the day…Except, I couldn’t really think of anything I wanted to do.

My thoughts roamed to Jett, wondering where he was working today since The Shack was closed. I’d been so used to seeing him every day that it was almost jarring to not catch a glimpse of that crooked smile.

“You should stop by Jett’s today,” Dad suddenly piped up. I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering if he somehow knew I was thinking about the man.

“And why would I do that?”

“The boy was telling me he was putting up the Christmas lights for the light tour. That’s a lot of work for one person,” Dad commented, sounding casual, but I felt his gaze watching me.

“Where are his parents? Isn’t his mom the one who’s enthusiastic about putting up the lights?”

“Stuck at work and can’t make it back. Heard he’s spending the festival alone this year.”

Something about that didn’t sit right with me. Jett Davis was always surrounded by people. He was loved by all. He wasn’t meant to be…alone.

But we weren’t close enough to talk about stuff like that—we’d only just become friends. So I shrugged. “I’ll see if I have the time.”

Dad didn’t say anything, but his gaze on me was loud as hell. Thankfully, the scrutiny didn’t last long before arriving at Uncle Rob’s house. “Can’t keep off your leg, can ya?” he said in greeting and helped Dad to the couch before heading to the kitchen .

Uncle Rob was a couple of years younger than Dad, but where Dad was able to keep his graying hair, Uncle Rob joked about Dad driving him to lose all his in the seventies.

“As they say, no rest for the wicked!” Dad retorted and accepted the hot drink Uncle Rob brought out for us.

“More like the stupid,” Uncle Rob grumbled under his breath, which earned him a glare from Dad.

“Hey! Don’t think you’re not still on my shit list for going behind my back and telling Remy when he just got a promotion!”

I didn’t correct him in that I had been in the middle of getting a promotion and it hadn’t been official yet. Last I heard, someone else on my team had gotten it instead. But I wasn’t going to tell him that.

“Stubborn old fool,” Uncle Rob scoffed, then turned to me. “Don’t listen to him. He’s actually glad you’re back. Been all he’s blabbering about around me. He’s just too shy to admit it.”

“Now you shut your jabbering mouth,” Dad yelled from his seat. He wrapped his arms across his chest, and what looked like a faint blush crept up his neck as he muttered, “Doesn’t anyone know how to keep a goddam secret around here…”

I chuckled, took the spot next to Dad, then wrapped an arm around him. “I missed you too.” Then in a tone so soft that I wondered if I said it for him or for myself, “I’m glad to be back here with you.”

Because that was the truth. Regardless of how I felt about everything else in Christmas Falls, being back home with Dad—even with all his grumbling—made me realize just how much I’d missed him all these years I was away.

Dad’s suspiciously wet eyes told me he’d been missing me too, maybe a little more than I’d realized. And that was like a hard punch in the stomach because I was the one who’d left and rarely came back. I was the cause of our separation…and now it was making me question if running away from the pain was only bringing more hurt than good for not just me, but my loved ones too.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Dad broke the silence and pushed me off. “Now get out of here so I can enjoy myself without my warden.” Uncle Rob snorted, which earned another glare from Dad.

“Call me when you want to head home,” I said, then ruffled his hair just to annoy him. As expected, Dad smacked my hand away and flattened his gray strands as he glared at me.

I said my goodbyes and gave Uncle Rob a hug. While walking out, Dad called just as the door closed, “Remember what I said on the way here!”

The door shut behind me before I could reply, so I pretended I hadn’t heard anything at all. I had the rest of the day to myself, and I fully planned to use it to rest and maybe contemplate my choices. From my visit back to Christmas Falls this time, it was clear to me that I couldn’t keep running away. I was not only hurting myself but my dad as well.

Five years .

That was how much time I’d stolen away from us by only visiting him two or three times a year. And hell if that didn’t make the guilt well up even more.

I’d fully planned on hiding back at home, maybe moping a bit before reevaluating my priorities. But instead of making the short walk back to my childhood house, my feet led me out of my neighborhood and into the more ritzy part of town, where the houses were twice as large as the other neighborhoods.

Jett’s family lived in a large two-story brick house that might as well be a mansion with how big it was. How anyone needed this much space was beyond me, though it wasn’t like I’d ever been inside his house, considering Jett and I weren’t particularly on good terms during high school. But every year, his mom would decorate the place to the nines for the light tour, so even though I’d never been inside, there was still a sense of familiarity with the house from seeing it on the tours. Up close, the house looked completely different without all the decorations.

I rang the doorbell, and some festive melody rang from inside the house because, of course, they would have some fancy doorbell tone instead of the generic one. A minute passed without any movement, and I was starting to worry that maybe Jett didn’t live here anymore. I’d assumed he hadn’t moved, and that he would be here, but maybe not.

I tried the bell once more, just in case, and when I still didn’t hear any movement from the other side, I turned to leave. Right when I took a step away, the door behind me opened and a confused-sounding voice called out, “Remy? What are you doing here?”

“Heard you might be needing some help setting up for the light tour,” I said, slipping my fingers inside my front pockets and turning to face him. Jett was all sleep rumpled, hair tousled every which way, with a befuddled expression like he thought he was still dreaming. He was wearing a tight, long-sleeve shirt and sweats, completely different from his normal style, which made me wonder if he’d just woken up.

Despite him being probably an inch taller than me and double my size with all those muscles, he looked almost… cute .

The ridiculous thought disappeared just as quickly as Jett’s crooked smile appeared.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” I asked.

“It’s fine. It’s about time I got up, anyway. Come in,” he said and stepped aside to give me space. I followed him inside while wondering if this was the time he usually got up, which didn’t make sense since he was at the diner bright and early most days. Then, as if reading my mind, he said, “I was up late last night finishing up the project.”

“I told you yesterday that you shouldn’t have bothered with my dad and focused on your work,” I said with concern. Now that I was looking closer, there were visible dark circles under his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He was probably up into the wee hours of the morning, but one wouldn’t be able to tell by his bright smile.

“I like talking to Adam. He’s a funny guy,” he said, moving to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. I accepted the mug he offered me and watched him add enough sugar to his mug to practically cancel out the coffee. He let out a sigh of appreciation after his first sip, then turned his dark gaze to me. “I never imagined you’d stop by to help me.” His smile toward me was so blinding I had to look away.

“I can be helpful sometimes too,” I said and stood to look around his kitchen. It was a lot nicer than any kitchen I’d been in before, with large, shiny appliances and so much counter space that five people could easily work together there.

Although the entire place was a bit too clean, as though it was rarely used. Which made sense since Jett’s parents weren’t here and the man himself practically had every meal at the diner these days.

“You haven’t eaten yet, right? I’ll make you something,” I said, opening the fridge to see my options. The fridge was massive but depressingly empty inside, but at least there were eggs and bacon.

Jett quickly followed. “You don’t have to cook for me. There’s cereal somewhere in the pantry.”

“I’ve fed you all week, so I might as well keep it going,” I said with a shrug, then stepped around him to heat up the pan. Jett hovered nearby, his eyes firmly placed on me .

“I’m not going to burn your house down if that’s what you’re afraid of,” I teased, flicking my gaze to him before focusing on the bacon. The grease from frying it would add a rich flavor to the scrambled eggs.

“That never even crossed my mind. It’s just…this is all a bit of a shock to me. I never thought you’d ever be in my house, much less cook for me.”

I eyed him while plating the bacon. He didn’t look angry that I’dcommandeered his kitchen. It was the opposite, in fact. There was a silly smile on his face as he watched my actions. I wondered what he was thinking in that head of his but didn’t question it and focused back on the pan.

Once the meal was cooked, we moved to the glass dining table tucked in the corner of the kitchen. It took no time for Jett to start scarfing down the food like he hadn’t eaten in a week. Smirking, I pushed his mug closer to him in case he suddenly choked with how fast he was eating.

When half the plate was finished, Jett finally slowed down enough to say, “There’s something about your food that tastes very…homey. It’s comforting.”

His words spoke to something deep inside me, a long-forgotten memory of learning how to cook in my family’s kitchen. Dad solemnly instructing me while trying to explain the dangers of being near a fire while Mom stood to the side, cheering me on and teasing Dad for his grumpy expressions.

Dad taught me how to make pancakes that day, and it was the first thing I’d ever cooked for my family. It couldn’t have been good with it being my first creation, but in my memories, it’d tasted like home.

“It’s been a while since I had a meal with someone at home, with my parents gone most of the time and all,” Jett suddenly said.

Technically, I wasn’t eating and was just sipping my coffee while watching him, but I didn’t mention that. “Heard your folks won’t be able to make it back this festival season. Are you heading to New York to spend Thanksgiving with them?” I asked instead.

“Nah, not a huge fan of the big city. I was made for the small-town life, you know?” he said with a toothy grin, then shoved another forkful of egg into his mouth.

I couldn’t imagine spending Thanksgiving all alone in this giant house. Holidays were meant to be spent with loved ones…though that was the optimistic side of me speaking. The now more cynical side knew there were tons of people who didn’t have a choice in the matter.

The concern must have shown on my face, because Jett was suddenly bumping my shoulder with his and saying, “Don’t worry about me. I heard Rudolph’s was unofficially doing something for Thanksgiving. A single mingle or something.” He smirked, looking past me as if he was lost in thought. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll even meet someone special there?”

Something about that just didn’t sit right with me. A nagging feeling that pricked my skin a little too uncomfortably. I pushed the sensation to the back of my mind. This wasn’t the first time Jett had gotten under my skin with something he said, so I chalked this time to being much the same.

Just ignore it, Remy .

Easier said than done. Jett’s words replayed in my head as I tried to figure out what it was he said that I had a problem with. But no matter how long I thought—long enough for Jett to stop eating to watch me warily—I couldn’t figure the damn thing out.

The emotions swelled up until they were about to explode, then before I could control it, I heard myself saying, “Come spend Thanksgiving with us.”

It came out sounding so demanding, even to my ears, that I internally grimaced, scrambling to figure out how to take back the words I’d already put out. Then Jett smiled, a shy one that I’d never seen on him before, but suited him very well. He nodded ever so casually and resumed eating his breakfast.

My skin didn’t feel so tight anymore.