XOXO: A Bundle of Cozy Novellas

Milo

MILO

Christmas Eve

Milo woke Christmas Eve morning with Elvis tucked into his side and something like hope curlicuing through his chest, possibly for the first time since returning to his hometown. Maybe he hadn’t made the wrong choice by refusing to bow to Christian’s demands that he and the rest of the band sign a new contract.

It had been more than a few years since Milo felt any joy when he played guitar in front of a screaming crowd. In the beginning, playing had been an adrenaline-filled adventure, but it wasn’t long before touring became something he resented, a ride he couldn’t get off.

The band depended on Milo for everything—they all jokingly called him “Band Dad”—but over the years it had become too heavy of a load. The great things about being in a band were also the worst things. Milo had no private life, but he had enough money to do what he wanted. One person’s problem quickly became everyone’s problem—or Milo’s problem. Milo had cash in the bank, he had investments on top of investments. But there was always somebody with their hand out, asking for time, money, or both.

His favorite part about being in the band had been writing songs, both the lyrics and the music. But more and more, the Lost Apostles were being crammed into a box with rigid boundaries. Their manager and label wanted marketable, top-of-the-chart material, and Milo was tired of that. He wanted to be in charge of his own destiny; if he failed, he failed, but it would be his own fault.

Elvis nudged him with his nose, reminding Milo that he did have at least one responsibility left.

“Time to go outside? No running off this time.”

If a husky could appear angelic, Elvis managed it.

“I don’t believe you.”

Quickly, Milo pulled on jeans, wool socks, and a heavy sweatshirt. His boots were in what eventually— hopefully —would be the kitchen again, and he slipped into them and shrugged on his winter jacket. It wasn’t until he’d unlocked and opened the door and was nearly blinded by the glare that he realized snow had fallen over night. A lot of snow.

Elvis woofed in celebration and tried to bound out the open door. Luckily, Milo had snapped his leash on before opening the door so Elvis wasn’t able to take himself on an adventure—not this day anyway.

“I’m on to you, buddy. Today is not the day I want to chase you around.”

Tonight he would be going to Davey Childs house for cider. Davey’d said there would be a few other people there. Milo wondered if he would know any of the other guests. He hoped no one would recognize him. He knew word would get out, probably already had, but for now, he wanted to remain as anonymous as possible.

The rest of the day dragged like molasses in January. Milo passed the time wandering around the house, staring at walls and wondering what in hell he’d gotten himself into, surfing the internet and ordering a ridiculous amount of puzzle toys for Elvis, and worrying about what he should wear to a cider tasting. Then realizing he’d left most of his clothes at his LA condo and thus didn’t have much choice. This was Hollyridge, not LA. Neither Davey nor his guests would be expecting Gucci. Right?

He also thought about Davey Childs. It had been ten years since they’d last seen each other.

The summer after graduation… had been heady, he’d wanted so many things. One of them was asking Davey Childs on a date. A real date . Milo’d had a crush on the cute cowboy all senior year, and they’d flirted a bit, hinted around, but neither of them took the dare. Milo’d even embarrassed himself by going to the spring 4H fair to see the angora rabbits Davey had been bragging about.

So, when Milo had seen Davey at the Stop-N-Go, he’d just gone for it, and asked Davey if he wanted to grab a burger and a movie. In Hollyridge that was code for a date, even for straight kids.

And before the big day, everything happened at once. His mom put their house on the market and told Milo she was moving back to Missouri to be closer to her family. Milo was welcome to come along, she explained, she’d only stayed in Hollyridge as long as she had so he wouldn’t have to change schools but now it was time for her to live her life. Milo’d been left reeling, not sure what he should do. Missouri was not on his bucket list.

The call from LA had come within a day of his mom’s announcement, and it seemed like perfect timing. He’d leave Hollyridge when the house was packed up and head to LA to live his dream. His best friend Sage, the Lost Apostles’ lead singer, had graduated early and moved there six months earlier, renting a shitty apartment in Venice Beach and interviewing drummers while scoping out the show scene. They’d even sent out demos to a few labels. Someone had finally called back.

In the end he’d chickened out, just like Davey said, and stood him up. Too scared he’d lose everything if people knew he was bi, too scared random future fans would find out he liked guys. He’d hated himself for being attracted to men and for being scared about it. Maybe even scared he wouldn’t want to leave Davey behind. After a few years of living in LA Milo had quietly come out, being bi hadn’t seemed like that big of a deal anymore.

Davey’s house was easy to find. It was only a mile or so away from Milo’s place, and in the December darkness, the house had enough holiday lights dripping from the eaves to light up the countryside for a quarter-mile radius. He smiled as he got out of his car; why did the lights not surprise him? He didn’t know Davey well now, but in high school he’d been the kind of guy who was one hundred and ten percent. Why run a mile for PE when he could run five? Why design a cutting board for wood shop when he could build a table and chairs?

Milo was just raising his fist to knock when the door opened underneath it. Davey was standing on the other side, a grin almost as bright as his holiday decorations on his face.

“You made it! I thought you might change your mind.”

“Why would I change my mind?”

Davey shrugged, it was endearing. “I dunno, Mr. Rock Star ? I’m pretty much the same old Davey, just older, maybe wiser, but not actually sure about that. I live in the same house and haven’t traveled further from home than Kansas City. On the plus side, I did graduate college and have a good credit score.”

“I like the same old Davey.” The words slipped out of their own accord, but Milo meant them.

“Aw, shucks.” Davey looked down, scuffing the toe of his cowboy boot against the doorframe. “Did you bring Elvis?” he asked. “I meant to tell you he was invited.”

“He’s in the car.” Milo had thought it was kind of forward to bring his dog but also he didn’t have Davey’s cell number.

“Grab him and come around back so I can introduce you, we’ve got the fire pit going and the cider open already. And a few other beverages, too, in case cider isn’t your thing.”

Milo had played in front of crowds of thousands, maybe even tens of thousands, and now butterflies invaded his stomach? He walked back to his car parked between an ancient Chevy and newer SUV, neither of which he recognized. Although, why would he? Maybe someday he would be friends with the people who owned these cars.

“Okay buddy, I need you to behave.” Elvis looked at him sideways and smiled as he jumped out of the back of the car. “I mean it.”

Davey’s house was a mid-century, one-story structure with a smallish front yard. Milo and Elvis walked around to the side where a tall wooden fence with a gate enclosed a back yard. It was dark already, so Milo couldn’t tell how big the back area was but it seemed expansive. And of course, all the land around was Davey’s, too.

Holding onto Elvis, Milo lifted the latch and pushed the gate open. He almost lost his grip when Elvis started wiggling like mad, his tail whipping back and forth against Milo’s legs hard enough to hurt. The gate swung shut behind them, which was a relief because Elvis about pulled his arm off.

“It’s okay, you can let him off his leash.” Davey appeared by Milo’s side his face illuminated by the lights. “The fence is Elvis- proof and I have a feeling he’ll be having too much fun to think about trying to get out.”

A yellow lab appeared out of the dark followed by a white… terrier thing. Elvis was warbling his weird howl-greeting and both the new dogs were wagging their tails.

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

He unsnapped the leash and Elvis didn’t hesitate. He bounded over to the lab, first sniffing its nose and then the white dog’s butt, and soon enough they were all circling and getting to know each other.

“The lab is Jura, the white thing is Wicket. Come on, I want to introduce you to everyone.”

Milo walked alongside Davey, but kept his eye on Elvis’s antics with his new friends. “Are there humans, too, or is this a dog party?”

Davey bumped Milo’s shoulder with his own, grinning at him again. Milo found himself grinning back. It didn’t feel weird or fake, it felt… right.

“Yeah, there’s humans. Just as weird as the dogs, though. And Brewski, too, he doesn’t like being left out.”

A structure loomed up out of the dark and Milo realized it had to be a barn. Light leaked from between warped boards and a door that was slightly ajar, and the faint sound of music and conversation reached his ears.

Davey must’ve sensed the trepidation that had Milo’s heart beating a bit too fast.

“Don’t worry, my friends don’t bite, I promise.”

Milo followed Davey and the dogs inside. The structure was a barn, and someone handy—probably Davey—had created a sort of living room in the center of the building. Currently the other guests were comfortably ensconced in patio furniture placed around a propane fire pit. A long table off to one side was laden with bottles of wine and cider, and several six packs of beer from Blue Mountain Brewery. Fairy lights had been wrapped around and draped along the exposed beams of the barn. Milo recognized Kelly Clarkson’s voice singing “Under the Mistletoe”. He glanced over his shoulder and spotted mistletoe tacked to the door frame.

And there were more dogs. At first glance, Milo counted at least five of them. One, a black lab, was sacked out underneath a chair, watching the rest of the shenanigans. A teacup yorkie wearing a Santa hat was attempting to escape the grip of its human, who was also wearing an over-the-top glittery Santa hat on their head.

“Everybody, this is my friend Milo, he’s owned by Elvis.” Elvis’s ears pricked up at the sound of his name, but he continued to wrestle on the ground with Jura while Wicket supervised them with sharp barks. “Milo, starting with the one in the butt-ugly Santa outfit and going clockwise, we have Skylar, Wallace who tolerates Skylar, Brett and Rory, Jeff and Zach—Zach’s Chardonnay is over on the table—Bennett and Wyatt, Jaime and Dag—the red label is their wine, a Sangiovese, I think. And the cutie Dag has in his lap is Dasher, or Merlot—we’re still arguing names.”

Dag held a sleeping black and white fluff up for Milo to see, it didn’t even open its eyes.

“Nice to meet you all, I’ll probably have to ask your names again.”

There was a mumbling round of sure , understandable , no problem, and one, hard to believe you’d forget mine .

True that. Skylar would be impossible to forget. Skylar’s boyfriend—or perhaps partner, Milo noticed they wore matching rings on their fingers—shook his head as he got up and headed to the table to refill his glass.

“You already met Jura and Wicket. Jura is Zach and Jeff’s, Wicket is Wyatt and Bennett’s. The black lab under the chair is Lucille, she belongs to Brett and Rory, the thing with the Santa hat is Bieber, Jazz is the white one. I think that’s everyone.”

There was a horsey snuffle and Davey laughed. “And Brewski of course. The barn cats are hiding.”

“The barn cats are plotting our deaths,” Wyatt said grimly.

Brewski’s head hung out of his stall. He seemed to be watching the dogs and humans celebrate, and Milo would swear the horse had a smile of his face.

“Can horses smile?” Milo wondered.

“Damn right, horses can smile,” Davey affirmed, “and Brewski loves this time of year so he smiles a lot. Come on, sit down.”

“Yes.” Skylar patted the open chair next to him. “Come sit next to me.”

Milo could swear he heard Davey groan and mutter “Skylar” under his breath.

Davey dragged the last empty chair over next to him. Milo sat in the one next to Skylar but kept his eye on Elvis.

“Can I bring you a drink? Cider? Wine? And please, don’t let Skylar scare you off.”

Skylar leaned around Milo, replying, “I would never, I just want to get to know him.”