His place.
Considering it was all of five feet away from my door, it almost seemed laughable that he was asking that so far in advance.
"Figured I would suggest it early so you could work yourself up to it," he added, making my lips fall open slightly, surprised that he got it.
I would have to work myself up to it.
And even then, there were no guarantees.
"I can work on that," I said, nodding. "I can't make any prom..."
"Wasn't asking for promises," he cut me off. "Just tell me you'll try and I will be happy. And not," he went on as he started to slowly stand, "disappointed if you can't do it."
"No expectations?" I asked, standing as well, finding myself both impressed and confused. Confused because everyone always had expectations. Impressed that he thought to tell me that he wouldn't mind if I couldn't force myself to do it.
"Nope," he said with a head shake as he shrugged into a jacket. Then his smile went just a tiny bit devilish as he added, "If you don't come my way, I'm inviting myself over here. So either way, I win." I smiled at that- big, happier than I had been in longer than I cared to admit. "Thanks for the present and the cookies and the company," he said as he moved toward the door. Good manners had me following behind, reaching to hold the side of the door as he stepped into the doorway. "Merry Christmas, Dusty," he said, leaning down and planting a chaste and utterly melt-worthy kiss to my forehead before moving down the hall.
"Merry Christmas, Ryan," I called after him, making him shoot me a smile over his shoulder before he disappeared into the elevator.
I closed and locked the door, taking a slow, deep breath.
Then, just for good measure, reaching down and pinching my arm. You know, just to make sure I hadn't died in the carbon incident after all and wasn't experiencing some long, drawn-out hallucination before I finally croaked.
The pain stung my arm and my head fell back against my door as I smiled at my empty apartment.
It had certainly been a Christmas for the books.
And it was shaping up to be a New Years Eve for them too.
Whether or not I managed to make it across the hall.
As it turned out, I would.
But not because I had worked myself up to it, though I had certainly tried.
No, the circumstances for which I found myself in his place were a lot less inspiring, a lot less groundbreaking than that.
It was a hell of a lot more ugly.
And, to be honest, it had been a long time coming.
I had always known there was a risk.
I had always known that some day it would catch up to me.
It just so happened to do so on the day before the night that I wanted to go a lot differently.
SEVEN
Ryan
So, it was no secret; I had always had a thing for nice girls.
Blame my rough lifestyle, the violence, the pain, the uncertainty, the hard I was always surrounded by, the scum, the blood, the nasty shit.
I respected hardass women like my mother, like Lea, even Fee in her own way. But they had never been the kind of women I found myself interested in.
Hell, it went all the way back to high school where I spent a goddamn year trying to get this shy, glasses-wearing, book nerd to give me a shot. She never did. Didn't blame her either. My brothers and I, well, we didn't have the best of reputations. We were always getting into fights, always starting shit, always joking around.
And, as we got old enough for those things, screwing around. Not exactly breaking hearts, at least not on purpose, but getting around.
But from then on, it had always been a trend.
I liked soft and sweet.
Which was why I was standing in the fucking party store the day before New Years Eve.
Yes, the mother fucking party supply store.
I was standing there debating what decorations I should get for my apartment. Me, who never even put up a goddamn Christmas tree, was getting New Years Eve decorations.
"Okay, does my car have some kind of gas leak or something?" Fee's voice called from the side, making me stiffen. Of course. Of fucking course I would run into a family member while doing something completely uncharacteristic that would therefore be a topic of much discussion. I turned to find Fee, dressed in skinny baby pink jeans, five inch heels, and some sort of shimmery gold sweatshirt that rode up slightly to reveal a sliver of stomach. Fee was, among many other interesting things, really into clothes. Even after three kids, she looked like she was ready to walk a runway at any given time. "Because there is no way this is not some kind of hallucination brought on by fumes of some sort."
"Hey Fee," I said, leaning down and kissing her temple, noticing the huge pile of confetti poppers she had in her hand basket. "You're going to be cleaning up confetti for weeks," I warned her, shaking my head.
"Please," she said, rolling her eyes. "Becca somehow learned what a glitter bomb was two months ago. I'm still finding that shit everywhere. This is nothing a broom can't catch. Now, changing the subject isn't going to work. What the hell are you doing in a party store? Is Chaz's finally going to spiff things up for the holiday? I've only been suggesting that for years."
Ranting and raving about more like.
Pops was old school. He didn't like decorating for shit. Not even a strand of lights for Christmas.
"No," I said, reaching out and grabbing some of the party poppers, at a loss for what the hell else I was supposed to get. Anita would be pissed at me, but considering I kept a clean place and she usually only ever had to run a vacuum or a mop once a week, I figured I could get away with it for a holiday.
She watched me for a second with small eyes before a little, teasing smile pulled at her lips. "You invited her over didn't you? Okay, spill. What happened?"
"Drop it, Fee," I said, shaking my head at her as I walked past the plastic champagne flutes. I had some real ones at home that I had literally never used. Which reminded me that I needed to brave my brother's goddamn liquor store that was sure to be mobbed. His ass better have taken my advice and moved the champagne front and center so I didn't have to fight for elbow room in the back corner where it was usually stored seeing as no one ever bought champagne any other time of the year.
"No. Come on," she said in a more reasonable tone, grabbing my arm to stop me from walking away from her. "Just this once, we'll keep it between the two of us. I won't even tell Hunt I saw you here," she offered, sounding genuine. "I know she has issues and maybe you need someone to talk to about that."
"She dropped me off a Christmas present," I surprised myself by admitting.
"And you of course couldn't stop yourself from going over there and thanking her," she said with a knowing smile.
"Something like that," I agreed.
"Was she freaking out?"
"No. Actually, she was good. Almost calm for the most part."
"Her apartment is her comfort zone and you're a safe person for her. She doesn't have to worry about you getting pissed at her or anything. Did things get... physical?"
"Let it drop with the bet thing, Fee," I warned.
"I wasn't asking for the bet. Christ, relax a little," she said, shaking her head. "I was just asking to ask."
"I kissed her," I admitted, leaving out the fact that it was the fucking best one I'd ever had. Maybe it was as simple as her open, sweet, unexpectedly overwhelmed reaction to it. Maybe it was more than that. Who knew. All I did know was I was pissed as hell when I got a call about one of the guys I had paid a visit to that morning showing up at Ross Ward's underground fighting ring, throwing around money he owed us.
I'd never been pissed to be the one called with a work problem, not even on a holiday.
But just that once, I had been.
And, though I generally wasn't the brother who spilled blood anymore, I had just-healed cuts on my knuckles from the anger I went at that bastard with. First, for screwing with my family. Second, for screwing with something good that was developing with me and Dusty.
"Then invited her over for New Years Eve?" Fee asked, eyes going a little soft. "So you need to get decorations to make a thing of it. I don't use this phrase often, Ryan, but that's fucking cute."
"I think you tempered the 'cute' with the 'fucking' preceding it. No one is taking your badass card away from you."
She ignored that. "What about if she can't come?"
"Then I'm going to her place."
"Solid plan," she agreed with a nod, reaching for her cell as it chirped. "Oh, don't forget food. Not a sit down meal kind of thing. Snacky stuff. So it doesn't get in the way of, ah, other activities. Oh," she added, having started to walk away then turning back, "and condoms. If she's been agoraphobic for that long, I doubt she's up to date on birth control. Actually, I have a whole bag full off..." she trailed off, moving to rummage through her purse.
Fee kept a literal fishbowl full of condoms on the bathroom counters at her work.
"Fee, I have condoms," I said with a smirk as she stopped shuffling.
"You're sure?"
"Yeah, babe, I'm sure."
"Okay. Just checking. If you need a reminder of why you need condoms, I am happy to drop off the hellions for an afternoon," she added, waving over her shoulder at me as she walked toward the counter. "Have a happy New Year, Ry," she added as I contemplated the row of black, gold, and silver paper dishes and napkins.