Page 94 of The Last Kind of Kiss
32
ONE WEEK LATER
LILA
We were lucky that the snow patrol arrived at the scene shortly thereafter, and that the storm cleared the following day. I really thought we weren’t going to make it for a second, but Bristol was there to scare all my doubts away. When we eventually made it back to the cabin with my towed car, his parents had quite the understandable meltdown. Bristol searched on foot for me. In nothing but a flannel. With nothing but a tiny particle of hope. He didn’t care what happened to him. He risked hislifefor me. And there are no words in the world that could express my eternal gratitude.
Before Bristol and I returned to Riverside, we decided to leave Summit’s ring somewhere to honor her memory—to give Bristol the closure he’s been too scared to seek for himself. Since Summit’s grave isn’t in California, we settled for the next best thing. Down by the lake, there’s a large pine that was a paradise for him and Summit away from the real world. He carved their initials into the base of the trunk, which have since been scabbed over by the changing seasons. I watched as he buried her ring by the stump of it. We stood there long enough towitness the snow pile over, and I held him until the storm waned to nothing but a drizzle.
It's been easy acclimating back to our normal lives. I’m not sure where Bristol’s modeling career stands, but mine is locked down. Since I’ll be one of the leading models for Kitty’s Catwalk, I have a plethora of projects lined up for the upcoming year—everything ranging from more brand advertisements to a runway show promoting some of the biggest names in fashion. My influencer lifestyle is over. Now I can do what I love on a bigger scale.
As much as I loved the change of scenery of Big Bear, I couldn’t wait to return home. I couldn’t wait to reunite with our family. Faye’s temporarily living down here in Riverside to help co-parent—resuming her studies online until she graduates—which means that Kit spends all his time at their luxury apartment on the outskirts of town. (Yes, that man owns two triple-story apartments in two different states.) Gage and Calista have a ways to go before they want to settle down, but they’re attached at the hip. Casen and Josie are on a traveling kick before they start a family, Hayes and Aeris have set their wedding date for early next year, and Fulton’s still avoiding women like they’re all carriers of mad cow disease. Life’s amazing, and no matter where our paths lead, we’re always going to come back to the heart of it all—a lived-in, questionably decorated mansion that has the feng shui of a frat house.
Christmas with Bristol’s parents was something out of a movie, but a belated Christmas with the Reapers has a chaos and disorder to it that I’ve missed. A sheet of early-morning warmth trickles in from the east-facing window, drenching the living room in a gilded afterglow that lofts over the plastic, ornament-bound tree in the corner. Tongues are loosened from a late night of too many eggnogs, a picked-apart gingerbread house spikes the air with the aroma of cinnamon, and a speckledthrush trills somewhere in the faraway distance, acting as our new, impromptu holiday soundtrack because none of us are awake enough to endure “Here Comes Santa Claus” on a soul-killing pop beat.
Torn pieces of wrapping paper leave a trail of carnage all over the carpet, and one hyper Eda keeps scooping them into her sticky hands, showing them to Kit with unparalleled excitement. Ever since she helped rip open her tower of expensive gifts, Kit looks like he’s one eye blink away from falling asleep completely. Most of the presents under the tree were for Eda, but there were a few gag gifts among the guys—including a pair of candy underwear, a rag embroidered FULTON’S CUM RAG, a ball gag—though I suspect that will be used unironically—and a jar of miniature plastic babies which I fear will be used for evil.
Aeris and Hayes are bundled up in a blanket, talking softly with one another and working on their mugs of hot cocoa. Kit’s on baby Eda duty while Faye gets a power nap in before she has to pump again. Josie’s in the kitchen baking some sugar cookies for all of us to frost together (with Casen bugging her every step of the way), Fulton’s loading up a new story-based video game that Gage gifted to him, and Gage…well, Gage and Cali are making out hardcore underneath the mistletoe. So that just leaves me and Bristol, who are sitting in our own little alcove away from everyone else. We were going to exchange gifts at his parents’ house, but he wanted to give me my gift here.
I can’t believe this is my life now. Not only do I get to share Bristol’s wonderful parents, but I also get to share these wonderful people in front of me.Forever.
I pull out a box from underneath my stash of blankets, feeling a warm fuzziness—not eggnog-induced—curl in my stomach. Bristol hasn’t stopped staring at me. He’s all dopey and lovesick.
I glance down at the red, velveteen package in my hands as a smile flits across my lips. “You know, when I was stuck in the snow, there was only one thing that kept me going,” I say.
“My incredibly handsome face?” Bristol asks, doing that terrible,terriblething where he cocks his head and slices his tongue over the front of his teeth.
Heat swarms my cheeks in what I imagine is averyobvious blush, but the moment my unspoken truth pierces the forcefield of our reality, tears encumber my eyes. “Your playlist kept me going. I was on the verge of a panic attack, and it helped me calm down. I felt so alone after our fight, but after listening to it, it reminded me that there was someone out there wholovedme.”
I’m trying to keep it together. Really, I am. I don’t need the whole house listening to my sobs.
I hand Bristol the box before I lose my vision to the hormones, doing all I can to stave off the tsunami with futile swipes of my sleeves. “These reminded me of you when I saw them online. I need you to know that I’malwaysthinking about you, even if we’re not talking.”
Bristol’s hands shake when he opens his gift, and although he’s not as susceptible to tears as I am, I can see emotion shine through his brandy-colored irises like prismatic drafts of sun through stained church glass.
“They’re touch bracelets,” I explain through the sniffles. “You tap on the little heart-shaped screen in the middle, and it sends a signal to my bracelet that lets me know you’re thinking about me. And vice versa.”
Before he says anything, he taps on it probably fifty times in quick succession, eliciting a laugh from me that disperses these goddamn tears. “You, uh, you have to charge it first, then hook it up to the app.”
“Angel, this is…” He struggles for words, eyes riveted to it like I’ve just given him his firstborn child, and his lips melt into a contagious smile. “This is the best gift anyone’s ever gotten me. Thank you. I love it.”
His gaze then targets me, his pupils go wide like a cat’s does right before it pounces, and I don’t have any time to prepare myself before he attacks me with kiss after kiss. “I”—kiss—“fucking”—kiss—“love”—kiss—“you.”
I squeal and squirm while I’m assaulted with pillow-soft kisses, but he doesn’t cease—no, it spurs him on to reach for the most ticklish crevices of my body. All that love I’ve been missing my whole life—from my father and myself—is made up for right here, in this living room, surrounded by my favorite people in the entire world. Every cornerstone of my heart sparks to life, the sadness so far behind me that I can’t even see it in my rear-view anymore.
When Bristol finally takes a breath, he’s hovering over my balled-up form on his hands and knees. “I’m glad that you found the playlist. I spent a whole week working on it, not knowing exactly what you’d like. But I kind of went out on a limb and picked some songs that made me think of you. Songs that can be…justours.”
Since he’s close enough, I brush the backs of my knuckles over his cheek. “They’re perfect.You’reperfect.”
“Angel, that’s all you. Buuuttt, I did manage to use my ‘perfection’ for good and get you the best Christmas gift in existence.”
Oh, God. I know I should be reassured, but I’m terrified. Bristol could’ve gotten me a number of things—a hot pink dildo, a lifetime supply of my favorite frozen, chocolate-covered strawberries, a cardboard cutout of his face. Whatever he got me, it’s extravagant, expensive, and may be disturbing to some viewers.
I sigh, though it’s good-natured. “You didn’t have to get me any?—”
And then I hear it. A yapping sound. Not fully a bark, but a yap—the kind of yap that comes from a very small, purse-sized canine. Fulton’s also disappeared from the Christmas-bombed premises, so I have a sneaking suspicion that he’s been hiding a furry stowaway up in his room this whole time. There’s a quick patter of paws, and then a scruffy-looking dog comes bounding into the living room, wagging its adorable little rat tail and doing a drive-by sniff test of everyone in the immediate vicinity.
I can’t believe Bristol adopted a dog. He was so heartbroken over Rocky, so adamant that he’d never find love in another pet, but he took the risk and opened his heart back up. I mean, the proof is in the pudding. And here’s said proof, all dirty, raggedy, and looking like he’s lived through two world wars. His eyes are a bit rheumy, one of his bottom teeth snaggles out from his lip, and he wheezes like a high-powered fan that’s been beaten with a baseball bat. Repeatedly. But he’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.
