Page 18 of Holiday Scars
Jett steers me inside like he’s operating on pure instinct. We pass Dirk and Hana kissing in the kitchen. “Watch the turkey. The oil is spitting.”
“Damn it.” Dirk rushes outside. “You’re not supposed to move the turkey once it’s in the fryer.”
“Come on. Bathroom,” Jett mutters. “Let me look at this.”
I stand there with my wrist under running cold water while he yanks a first-aid kit from the bathroom vanity. It hurts more than I’ll admit. He gently dries my arm and dabs the burn with cream and steady hands. Mine are shaking.
When he’s done wrapping up the puckered skin, I clear my throat. “So, are you okay about last night?”
He looks up, eyes flicking away fast. “Sure.”
“Sure?”
“It’s nothing.”
The word lands like a punch.Nothing.Okay. I can do nothing. I’ve done it before. Take what I’m given and keep the rest buried.
“Right,” I mutter. “Nothing. Thanks for this.” I hold up my wrist and walk past him.
My heart breaks just a little. What the hell is happening to me?
I watch football the rest of the day, drinking beer after beer. All while keeping my eyes from meeting Jett’s.
Dinner comes and goes. The turkey is perfect. Hana’s sides were delicious. She nudges Jett at the table to take part of the praise. Jett laughs, easy and light, like last night wasn’t some life-changing event for him.
Afterward, I clean up so Dirk can watch the Cowboys lose. They’re America’s favorite team, except if you’re a Giants fan. Hana cuddles next to him, and within minutes, she’s asleep.
“She was up early,” Dirk says, kissing her nose.
“That and the turkey,” I say, finishing my last beer for the night.
“That’s a myth.” Jett plops on the floor with another piece of apple pie.
I can’t look away from all these people who mean the world to me, thinking I fucked up by touching what doesn’t belong to me.
Even with Stavros, it was never comfortable like this. He was just a body. A dude who understood me. Understood my work, even if he didn’t know exactly who I worked for.
Dirk stands and lifts Hana carefully into his arms. “I’ll watch the rest of the game in my bedroom.”
“Night,” Jett says as they disappear down the hall. He then turns back to me with darker eyes. “You know,” he whispers, “when Hana wakes up, they’ll be too loud to hear anything.”
My pulse spikes. “What are you saying?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t wake you.” He puts down the dish. “I worried I would see regret in your eyes.”
“Me?” I shove a finger in my chest. “You’re the one experimenting.”
“It wasn’t an experiment,” he bites out.
“Good to know,” I say, tugging him to his feet. “Let’s see how serious you really are about me. Aboutus.”
We walk to his bedroom, me leading him. Inside, I kick the door closed and pull him into my chest.
I lower my mouth to kiss him, relieved when he kisses me back. “Fuck, I needed this,” I say, and the air in the bedroom thickens with everything we’re pretending doesn’t matter.
And maybe it doesn’t. Maybe thisisjust a fling.
But when he moans into my mouth while I stroke his cock, I’m not sure I can take it if it is a fling.
