Page 28 of Her Christmas Fix
Because the only thing scarier than risking my heart is spending the rest of my life wondering what might have been.
14
GRIFFIN
I’m parkedacross the street from Monika’s house on Christmas morning, the wrapped painting she bought for me on the passenger seat. It’s the view from her windows, and I found it hidden in my hall closet yesterday, my name on the tag.
I should have given her my gift before she left. Now the tiny cardboard box is burning a hole in my jacket pocket. Not a ring—I’m not that far gone—but a necklace with a tiny silver rose charm I bought in town. Something that I hope reminds her of this place. Of me.
My phone buzzes with a text from Noah.
Get your ass in there or get to the diner. Either way, stop being pathetic.
How do you know where I am?
Mason drove by ten minutes ago and ratted you out.
I shove the phone in my pocket and stare at the house. She’s in there alone, and it’s my fault. I drop my head against thesteering wheel. Joey would laugh his ass off if he could see me now. All those years of running missions, making split-second decisions, and I’m too chicken-shit to knock on a door.
But Joey’s not here, and I feel like I failed him, too.
My phone buzzes again.
Meyer. Diner. Now.
I put the truck in gear and head toward town, adding coward to the list of names I’ve been calling myself lately. The Salty Dog Diner is packed for Noah’s annual Christmas breakfast, the one he started for “orphans” with no family or place to go on the holiday. Although at this point, most of us have chosen to be here rather than anywhere else.
I grab a cup of coffee and a plate of food and sit at the empty booth, glaring at Noah when he slides in across from me.
“You look like someone ran over your dog,” he says, stealing a piece of bacon off my plate.
“I don’t have a dog.”
“Which is probably for the best, given your current mood.” He signals for more coffee, then fixes me with the look he gets when he’s about to dispense unsolicited advice. “Why are you here?”
“Free pancakes.”
“Bullshit. Why aren’t you with Monika?”
I set down my fork harder than necessary. “Because I’m an idiot. She left the night before last. The paparazzi showed up, reality crashed the party, and she made it clear we were temporary. As if I didn’t realize that.”
Noah crosses his arms over that massive chest. “So you just gave up?”
“What other option did I have? Follow her around with a baseball bat, threatening every photographer who gets tooclose?” I drain my coffee like it might wash away the bitter taste in my mouth. “I overreacted, and just about lost my shit. She just got rid of one asshole. She doesn’t need some hothead making things worse.”
“You protected her.”
“I scared her.” The memory of her voice calling my name when I grabbed that camera makes my stomach churn. “I’m not meant for red carpets and press tours and people shoving cameras in your face every time you buy groceries.”
Noah is silent for a long moment, which is typical but somehow feels significant in this moment. Not in a good way. When he speaks, his voice holds the edge that used to make junior enlisted guys piss themselves.
“You know your problem?”
“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”
“You’re forgetting that not every fight involves explosions or shots fired.” He leans forward. “Sometimes the biggest battle is showing up to risk getting your heart shoved back at you in a million pieces.”
“So you’re a fucking philosopher now?”
