Ethan

For some reason, I thought I’d miss being with the guys for our non-traditional Thanksgiving, but I barely had time to think about it. Sure, I caught a little grief from Sandy, Kade and Kane’s mom, for not being there, but it was all in fun. She even invited me and Emily for Christmas, which was sweet.

I had plans, though. And so did Emily, even if she didn’t know it yet.

Those plans, and the endless amount of prep involved, kept me busy as hell for the next couple of weeks while Emily and I played house. It was the most fun I’d had in a long time, between spending time with her and plotting her gift. Like everything between us so far, it was going to be epic.

She all but moved into the loft, with us spending roughly five out of seven nights there. It would have been seven out of seven, if I had my way. I loved having her at my place, but she still missed her apartment and had a stubborn streak a mile wide, so I caved whenever she wanted to crash there.

My only concern was that I had to keep a low profile so her neighbors wouldn’t recognize me when we came and went, but everyone in New York tended to mind their own, so it wasn’t that hard. And it was worth the risk to make her happy.

No matter whose place we were at, we ended our days in the same bed, limbs tangled, hearts pounding, bodies exhausted from long, carefree days and vigorous, consuming nights.

Emily was working half days, leaving work by one every afternoon, which was fine by me. From some of the things she’d said, I could tell her boss was pushing her buttons.

To take advantage of her free afternoons, we did all the things the seasonal tourists loved. We went ice skating every couple of days at either Rockefeller Center or Bryant Park Winter Village—where I swear my ass polished every inch of the ice at one point or another. Thank fuck for my shades and toboggan cap. With those on, I was safe from recognition. Once the sun went down, I switched my shades for a pair of hipster glasses that Em thought looked particularly hot on me, which was an unintended bonus. Mostly, I just wanted to enjoy my time with her without being hounded. And the last thing I needed was a flood of paparazzi pics of me sliding across the ice on my butt like a toddler.

I was fairly sure Emily pushed me a time or two but couldn’t prove it.

The little sneak.

But she laughed her ass off every time I took a tumble, so it was worth it, even if there was sabotage at play.

Between skating days, we checked out the Dyker Heights Christmas lights and the Radio City Christmas Spectacular. Sometimes we brought Dana along, when she had time off work, and some days I even stepped back so they could do things alone, because I knew how much Em needed that. On those days, I painted. Once or twice I called up Kade, and we worked on new lyrics because I was all kinds of inspired lately.

But mostly, Emily and I took long walks and just checked out the signs of the season. From holiday markets to small window displays in mom-and-pop shops to hand-painted murals on glass storefronts, it was all beautiful. And enjoying it with Emily made it even more so.

In all honesty, I hadn’t enjoyed the holidays in a very long time. I went through the motions, of course. Did all the requisite things, bought the required gifts, smiled at the right times, but it never really moved me. Not since Ryan. Not since everything that I’d once loved about the season was gone, lost to grief and regret.

I hadn’t talked to my parents in nearly eight months. Even then it was only because we were passing through Pennsylvania on tour, and I decided to drop in on them. Talk about being out of place. I’d sat stiff-backed on their couch, in awkward silence, while they looked at me like I’d tracked shit on the welcome mat.

No attachment, no interest.

They were hollow.

And until recently, so was I.

I wanted to be sad for them, to tell myself that what they went through—losing a child—is the most horrific thing a person can experience, and they were dealing with it in the only way they knew how: by shutting down.

But the fact remained that they hadn’t lost both their sons, they’d lost one and forsaken the other in their grief. I wondered sometimes if they would have been the same way with Ryan if it was me who’d died.

Would they mourn me the same way?

How could I believe that when they so easily walked away from me while I was still here? How could they just stop caring? Shouldn’t they hold tighter to the people who mattered after a tragedy like that?

Was I an asshole for judging them for the way they grieved?

I didn’t know.

I was a grown-ass man, right? Financially secure, smart, well-adjusted, independent, and surrounded by people who genuinely cared. Why did I let it bother me so much that my parents weren’t part of that?

It wasn’t like I needed coddling.

I was creeping up on thirty, for fuck’s sake.

I talked to Emily about it one afternoon, about a week before Christmas. We were lying in bed in my studio, just lazing there after an afternoon romp. I didn’t know where it came from, but before I could stop myself, it was spilling out. I was angry and hurt and lost.

And she was there.

She listened for a long time, quietly stroking the back of my hand with her fingers while I knotted the blanket in my fist. She wasn’t saying anything, just nodding. Supporting. And of course, she knew what this was like. I’d seen it when she spoke to her mother, when she mentioned her in passing.

Of course, she knew this feeling.

Of course, she understood.

Her mother pretended to care when it suited her, which might have actually been worse than not caring at all. At least I knew my parents were broken inside. I knew because they hadn’t always been this way.

Em’s mother had.

She’d always been fucked up, mentally abusive, cold, and just…unworthy of someone like her daughter. It was sad, really.

For both of us.

Emily, true to form, knew exactly what to say.

“It’s always there, but it’s harder during the holidays, I think. Because there are so many ‘normal’ images out there of what families are supposed to look like—all smiling and rosy-cheeked around a huge table or standing by a stunningly decorated tree while the kiddos unwrap their mountain of presents. You hear people complaining about all the places they have to be, the celebrations that are stacked one after another, while you’re looking at a mostly empty calendar. It’s easy to compare yourself, your situation, to that. To see what you have as lacking because it’s different. But you wanna know a secret?”

I was already smiling in anticipation, hugging her closer as she met my eyes. “What, baby?”

“I don’t feel like I’m lacking a damn thing. Nada. Especially not people who can’t be bothered to care about me. You just have to love those who love you and wish the best for those who don’t, because you’re better off without them. Because they’re the ones missing out on something incredible.” She kissed the tip of my nose. “This year I already have everything I could ever ask for, because I have you.”

I gripped her waist and rolled her onto her back, settling over her like a blanket. “I couldn’t agree more. You’re by far the best gift I’ve ever been given, Miss Emily.”

“I’m still getting you a present, though.” She nudged my nose with hers.

“Just put on a huge bow and be waiting naked under the mistletoe. That’s all I want for Christmas this year.”

“I’ll do that, no problem. As long as you agree to do something equally inexpensive. I mean, even the nicest bow—one as big around as a beach ball—couldn’t cost more than what…twenty bucks?”

“I think it’s more like fifty, and that’s not the nicest one they make.”

She leaned back a little, pressing further into the pillow as she raised one brow. “How do you know that right off hand?”

“I remember Lennox talking about it when he bought his folks a car for their anniversary. A Mercedes. He threw a fit over the cheap-looking bow the dealership was going to throw in and ordered one himself.”

She pursed her lips and nodded, looking impressed. “That’s kind of sweet, being so picky about such a small thing. I wouldn’t have thought he had it in him.”

“He spends a fair amount of his waking hours living up to his douchey reputation, but when it comes to his folks, he’s all heart. They’re really great parents. Supportive as hell.”

Her eyes locked on mine while we both processed that in our own ways, neither of us needing to state the obvious: Lennox was lucky.

Luckier than most, and definitely luckier than us.

Thank fuck he knew that and acted accordingly, or I’d have to kick the crap out of him.

Emily and I remained quiet for a while, lost in our own thoughts. I laid my head on the pillow beside her and shifted my weight so I wouldn’t crush her beneath me.

My dick protested the snuggling but I ignored it, letting my eyes fall closed as I took in the sensation of my skin on hers, soaking in her warmth as a slight chill crept across my bare back. I needed to turn on the extra heater, apparently. It was incredibly cold outside, had been for days, but today my heat was struggling to keep up.

Like she could sense that I was getting a chill, Emily tugged the covers up over my back and shifted her hand under them to run her palm over my cool skin.

“I meant what I said about not going overboard with my present.” I could feel the warmth of her hand seeping into my flesh, practically burning. Gooseflesh broke out all over my back and crept down my limbs. If she kept it up, I’d be groaning in no time. “Are you listening to me, drummer boy?”

“Hmm…” I nudged her neck with my nose.

“Don’t act like you don’t hear me. I don’t want you spending a lot of money on my gift. It’s unnecessary, and since I can’t afford to reciprocate, it would make me feel bad. Okay?”

“You don’t have to get me anything,” I assured her, and I meant it. What could I possibly need aside from more time with her?

“Oh, come off it. You know I’m getting you something.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll keep my spending down. But the epic-ness level will still be through the roof. I won’t compromise on that.” My hips involuntarily thrust into her side and I chuckled under my breath. “I guess I’ve trained my body to think ‘compromise’ means something else.”

I pressed into her hip again, and she giggled, wrapping her legs around me. “It’s worse than saying ’treat’ in front of Dammit.”

I shifted until I was squarely between her legs again, my erection brushing against her belly. “Worse? I think you mean better. Much, much better.”

“You are awfully cute when you beg.”

“Baby, I’m not the one who’s about to be begging for it,” I said as I nudged at her opening, teasing with the tip but not pushing inside.

Let the battle of wills begin…