Callum

 

I stumbled, bleary and scratching, into the kitchen. On autopilot, I opened the cupboard to pull out the canister of coffee.

Only to find that the coffee was already out, grounds sprinkled liberally over the countertop like a trail of breadcrumbs leading to the coffeemaker.

Which was somehow already on, with a full pot sitting there waiting for me.

I stared at the coffeepot warily, like it had somehow gained sentience, and tried to quell the anger that was already heating up my bloodstream. But as I did, I became aware of several things.

The first thing I noticed was the overwhelming silence in the house. Grayson's snores were normally the soundtrack to my mornings, so loud they rattled the windowpanes.

The second was the already brewed coffee itself.

The third thing was the open carton of milk sitting on the counter — sweating condensation and slowly spoiling — number one on my list of pet peeves.

The pieces slid together and I sighed heavily as I reached up for my mug. I was pretty fucking proud of how even my voice sounded as I called, "Merry Christmas, you're up early. You trying to catch Santa?"

I heard the scrape of a chair across the floor as my housemate leaned back. "I'm not up early," Gray protested. "I'm usually up and out the door by now."

Frustration mingled with disbelief as I turned to face my best friend and recently acquired housemate. It was in the spirit of Christmas itself that I didn't leap across the room and strangle him to death.

"Bullshit," I said deliberately as I poured the milk into my coffee. Then I made a great show of opening the fridge and placing it back on the shelf with much flourish and fanfare. "See? See how easy this is?" I repeated. "I'm not asking you to move fucking mountains here. Just to put the fucking milk away when you're done with it. Like I've asked you to. Thirty billion times."

Gray grinned. "Sure man."

I closed my eyes and counted to ten, trying to call up happy memories that would remind me that I'd miss him once I buried him. "You got something going on this morning?" I asked. My voice sounded high and tight and unnatural.

But if he heard the tension there, he ignored it. Like he always did. Instead he blinked and said, "Nothing," far too innocently.

I turned and stared him down with my arms folded across my chest.

He tried to maintain eye contact over his coffee mug and failed miserably. "Just going out and getting a tree for the party."

I lifted my chin and resisted the urge to yell out "Gotcha!"

"The party," I said instead.

"Yeah," he said, squirming and not meeting my eyes. "The party, you know?"

"The McCabes' party?"

"Yeah man," He actually had the nerve to look excited. "Ma McCabe was all worried and shit about the tree they already have set up. Thought it was too little for that new place they have. I told her not to worry about it, that I'd handle it."

"Uh huh."

"What?"

"Nothing," I seethed. "So you're heading over to your uncle's place to buy a tree? Is he even open today?"

Grayson grinned. "Who said anything about buying?"

"Isn't Uncle Gerry gonna notice a giant tree missing from his farm?"

"Nah," Gray said, waving me off.  "He always spends Christmas Eve until New Year's blind stinking drunk. It's a brotherly tradition."

I winced at the thought of Pierce Abbott, Grayson's piece of shit father and Uncle Gerry's sadistic older brother, getting blind stinking drunk. When Gray lost his job in August, he'd made mention of moving back into Pierce's house to save money on rent. I told him to cut the shit.

And that's how he ended up here, at my place, snoring like a motherfucker and leaving my milk out to spoil on the counter all the time. "So you're gonna give Ma McCabe a stolen tree for Christmas? You're one classy motherfucker."

Gray shrugged and slurped his coffee. "That's for damn sure. And I'd better get going, too."

I startled so badly that I nearly sloshed coffee down my chest. Fucking hell, I thought I had more time, I thought to myself. "You're seriously leaving now?" I said. "It's barely even eight o'clock."

Gray stood up from his chair and gave me one of those grins that made me want to smack him upside the head. "Aw, Callum, are you going to miss me?" he teased as he came over and dumped the rest of his coffee down the drain. "Did you want to wear matching footy pajamas while we open presents?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, asshole. I'm trying to figure out what you're up to."

"What?" Again with that innocent look and inability to maintain eye contact. "I already told you. I'm picking up a tree for Ma McCabe. I'm gonna cut it down and then run back here for a shower before I go to drop it off."

I stabbed my finger into his face. "Aha!"

"What the fuck, dude?" he asked as he swatted my finger away.

"You're showering before you bring it over."

"Yeah, you know, wrestling a tree into a flatbed is hard work. You'd know that if you bothered to do a bit of manual labor in your life."

"Fuck you, I lead outdoor expeditions for a living."

"Yeah, for overweight yuppies from the suburbs."

He had me there. I leaned back on the counter and flipped him off. He laughed that big dumb laugh of his. "So can I go now, Mom, or are you not done giving me the third degree?"

I sighed. I was. There wasn't any reason to ask anymore. I knew exactly what he was up to, because I was up to the same goddamned thing. Even though it was Christmas, we were both up early, ready to spend the day helping our friend's parents get ready for their annual Christmas Party. The earlier we started, the more time we'd get to spend staring at her.

Harper.

"Yeah, go, dumbass. I'll see you there," I said. He punched me a little too hard in the shoulder — Grayson's preferred method of saying farewell — and headed out the side door to the rusted out pick-up he somehow kept running.

He skidded out on the gravel drive, digging out another fucking rut in his haste to get going. To get the tree, to bring to the girl.

Harper.

My cock still did a little reflexive twitch when I thought about her. We'd had that one little moment at her graduation party. A stolen kiss down by the creek that ran below her parents' old place. The steep walls of the gully amplified every whispered promise I made, until I was sure we'd be caught. But she wasn't the one who'd called things off.

I was.

I couldn't do that to Gray.

She was my best friend's little sister, yeah. But more than that, Gray loved her in his ferociously obsessed way, and I couldn't break his heart like that.

Even if it meant I had to break mine.

It would be nice just to see her, though, I told myself. Just to catch up. She was tearing it up in New York, winning all these fancy children's literature awards and getting a ton of press. I was proud of her. She'd come a long way from the bossy kid sister who we'd tolerated tagging along. Even if nothing could happen between us, I still wanted to see her.

And fuck it. I wanted to see her first. Before him. It's why I'd woken up so early on Christmas morning in the first place. I'd wanted to have her to myself, just for a moment.

But Gray was apparently thinking the same thing.

Fucker.

So this was how it was going to work apparently. A fucking footrace to see her first. He was bringing his tree to the McCabes, and I was bringing booze, and whoever got there first got Harper all to himself.

There was no starting gun, but we were definitely off and running.

I poured my coffee down the drain and headed to the shower. I only needed to load up a few cases from my Dad's bar. It wouldn't take me long. If I got going right now I'd definitely get to Harper first.

Before I had to share her with Gray.