Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

A fter they arrived at the store, Patrick went upstairs to his admin work, and Sandy set up a spot near Chelsea's register to check on the store website and social media.

"Hey, look at this. We've had a bump in our analytics." He did a little dance, but Chelsea gave him their deadpan stare. "Okay, I know you're not all candy canes and holly jolly, but at least give me one whoo-hoo."

"Woo. Hoo."

A customer started to unload their basket, and Chelsea began the checkout process.

Sandy didn't want to take all the credit for the increase, but they'd already had a few more customers this morning, so that was a win for social media. At least, he hoped that was the case. He snapped his fingers as an idea formed.

He took his cell out of his back pocket. "Be right back," he mumbled to Chelsea as he headed to Patrick's office. He gave a rap on the door and swung it open.

Patrick glanced up from his computer.

"Ignore me." Sandy held his phone in the air. "Pretend I'm a ghost from Christmas present. I need some B-roll." Patrick didn't say anything, which was fine, but the level of concern on his twisted features showed the store was still struggling. Not that a day of social media and an upgrade to the website would instantly make the store money, but Sandy had high expectations.

As he filmed, he considered his mom's relationship with his stepdad and how smothering it was to be around. Oddly enough, in the past few days an outsider might say the same about how much time he was spending with Patrick and vice versa. Maybe love wasn't so suffocating after all? But inside, Sandy still hesitated and was fearful of a relationship beyond a few days, weeks, or months.

He stopped filming and walked out to the rail to view the customers below. He'd never been at the store during a real hustle and bustle. He imagined it would be amazing to see a holiday shopping scene like one out of a classic film. His heart ached the McCormick's loss of their store.

Patrick stepped up next to him.

"What about historic building grants or loans?" Sandy asked, knowing those were options that Patrick had probably already considered.

"We tried those, but we didn't qualify during the last round. We can apply again at the end of this year, but we can't rely on that for assistance." Patrick turned. "Ready to load the toys? Then we'll get into costume and take off."

Sandy nodded. "I'll have to skip the elf shoes. I don't think accelerating and braking in giant floppy felt shoes would work out. Unless you're okay with me plowing us into a tree while the bells jingle us all the all way."

Patrick's shoulders shook while leading them to the locker room.

Does he think I'm kidding about crashing? He's so adorbs it's disgusting. A tingle of anticipation ran up Sandy's spine.

As Sandy consulted the printout of addresses Chelsea had supplied him with, Patrick turned the radio to a station with round the clock Christmas music. Punching in an address on his GPS, Sandy attempted to slide the phone into the holder. After his third try, Patrick yanked the device out of his hands and attached it to the housing.

A gooey sensation built up in Sandy's chest. "I have a confession," he said, turning to glance over at Patrick.

"Yeah? Is it a juicy one?" Patrick didn't have on his Santa beard and glasses, so when he leaned over the console his piercing green eyes held Sandy's with laser-like precision.

Sandy leaned in, too, resting his chin in his hand. He enjoyed being close to Patrick and smelling the pine-scented hunk. Today there was also a mix of peppermint candy. They'd given out so much sugar to the kids they visited that Sandy was certain parents would call them in a month regarding dental bills. "I like being with you."

"I'm not a priest, but I've been in enough confessional booths to know that's not a juicy confession."

"I don't practice any religion, so I wouldn't know. But, how about this? I like that you volunteer and give so much to those around you."

Patrick's brows rose and wrinkles formed on his forehead.

Who knew wisdom lines could be sexy?

"I've never been with a guy who thinks of others and takes action to change things."

"Having you here this year has made everything brighter. Dealing with Dad's health could've taken me to a dark place, but it didn't because of you." Patrick leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Sandy's mouth. "Thank you."

Sandy knew his cheeks had heated up, not just from the kiss, but also from the tenderness in Patrick's words. Sandy cleared the emotion building in his throat. "Santa, we better get this sleigh going, or we're never going to get everything done."

Patrick put on his beard and glasses. "That's right, my favorite elf."

Sandy started the SUV. As they traveled, they sang along to the holiday music inserting their own ridiculous lyrics and inuendoes. At each home, they met families in need. But what struck Sandy was the joy and gratitude he witnessed in each home. This was truly a Grinch heart-growing-three-sizes kind of event.

It was after dark when they rolled up to their last home, an old, rundown farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. The frozen dirt-, ice-, and snow-packed road up to the home made for treacherous traveling. Sandy took his time as he followed Patrick to the front door to deliver the last of their gifts. They nearly fell on their butts while trying to get back to the vehicle. It was only when Sandy backed up the SUV too far to turn around in the driveway that they ran into a problem. The tires spun as he tried to maneuver them forward and out. He tried several times to no avail.

"It's official. We're stuck. Santa, you need more reindeer." Sandy leaned forward, against the steering wheel.

Patrick fished his phone from his pocket and FaceTimed Chelsea.

They immediately popped up on the screen. "Hey, what's up?"

"The magic of the Midwest got us. We're stuck." Sandy leaned over to get his face on screen.

"Roger that. I'm leaving my last house now. I'll swing over. Text me the address. Sam is done, and I told her we'd all meet up at the store afterward."

"See ya soon." Patrick ended the call.

"Sooo, what do we do to keep warm?" Sandy bounced his eyebrows, wishing for a make-out session in the backseat.

Patrick smirked. "As much as I like what you're thinking, which I'd bet is dirty, it's almost zero out. To be on the safe side we should go back inside."

Sandy let out a whine of protest. He put his elf hat back on. "They better have hot cocoa." And then he realized what he said. "Yes, I am that shallow. Although, I would take hot water. I may sound picky, but I'm not."

"Sure, sure, keep telling yourself that." Patrick attached his beard and glasses and adjusted his hat before opening the passenger door.

It was close to an hour by the time Chelsea showed up at the house. The family was kind enough to sit with them, and the kids absolutely loved having Santa and one of his elves for almost an entire evening. Patrick thought it was the best night ever, chatting with the kids and helping them put their toys together. If only he could have this kind of hands-on job where he helped people all the time. He could feel it made a difference for the family.

When they got outside after Chelsea arrived, Patrick removed his Santa get-up and attached the chain from Chelsea's truck onto the SUV. Once he gave Chelsea the thumbs up, he hopped into the truck and put it in neutral. Chelsea hit the gas, and the SUV popped out of the frozen snow like it was nothing. Patrick hopped out of the truck to remove the chain and place it in the truck bed.

"I'll follow you to the store," Chelsea said with a smirk.

"You think we're going to get stuck again?"

Chelsea gave a half-shrug and walked away.

Patrick smiled as he entered the SUV.

"What's so funny?"

"They think we're going to slide into the ditch on our way out."

Patrick hit the gas too hard, and the tires spun. He glanced at the dash. "In case you need to know, this button here is for the four-wheel drive."

Sandy covered his mouth. "Whoopsie?"

Patrick shook his head as he drove them away. His phone lit up on the dash from an unknown caller. Normally, he wouldn't accept a call from a number he didn't know, but since his dad was in the hospital, he hit the accept button.

"Patrick? Are you on the way back to the store?" Sam asked.

"Should be there in about a half hour."

"I don't want to alarm you, but my dad got a call to a store on Main Street. It's slippery out so don't rush or anything." Sam raised her voice as if she worried he might drive a hundred miles per hour on the unpredictable roads.

Is it a break in? Please tell me no one is hurt. Patrick's knuckles turned white as he squeezed the steering wheel. "Thanks for the heads up. See ya soon." He ended the call.

"Are you okay to drive?" Sandy asked.

"Fine. It's probably nothing. During the winter we get power surges. We have to be careful about the pipes freezing."

Sandy flagged a hand in the air. "That doesn't sound so bad."

Patrick gave him a side-eye. "Say that when you're standing in water over your ankles."

"Oh, fucking hell."

He took his time driving, enjoying the music in the background and his driving companion. It was the simple things he liked about getting to know Sandy. His flair for the dramatic. His sense of humor. Maybe I could do a sneaky date and make him dinner at the house? "Do you like corned beef?"

Sandy turned in Patrick's direction. "That's the sexiest question I've ever been asked. Saucy!"

"I'm serious. After the amazing dinner you had Sam create the other night, I know you're probably a foodie, so?" Patrick's culinary skills were on the low end, but he grilled a mean smoked corned beef brisket that was damn tasty.

"I'd die for corned beef." Sandy clapped his hands and wiggled with excitement.

"You're killing me."

As Patrick turned onto Main Street, a barricade was up and there were a couple of police cars. He pulled over and parked. His phone buzzed.

"What's going on?" Sandy forward, trying to see around the cars and people gathered on the street.

His mom's face appeared on the screen. He accepted the call as he and Sandy climbed out of the SUV. The smell of smoke nearly overwhelmed him. His eyes stung from the scent and ash in the air. "Hey, Mom, can't talk now . . . I probably won't make visiting hours. Give Dad a hug from me."

Chelsea ran up to him. "Something caught fire."

"I gotta go, Mom." He hung up and jogged toward the gathering.

All three of them moved through the crowd to get a better look. Sam was by the barricade with her dad, the sheriff.

"Sam?" Patrick called out, but not loud enough for her to hear over all the commotion.

Chelsea flapped their arms over their head to get Sam's attention.

She pulled on her dad's sleeve and pointed to the group.

Patrick's stomach sank as the implications of the situation hit him. This couldn't be good.

Sheriff Gómez waved them over. "Let these three through," he said to the officer fending off the crowd.

The sheriff led Patrick and Sandy down the street, with Chelsea and Sam behind them. Silently, the group passed fire engines and firefighters. As they moved down the block, smoke became thicker making it more difficult to breathe. The sick feeling in Patrick's stomach intensified. Once the McCormick's building came into view, his eyes stung with tears. The building was still standing, but the damage was done. McCormick's General Store was destroyed.

Oh my God. Patrick's shoulders dropped. It was as if someone had reached into his breath chest and stolen his breath away. The shock of it all was too much to handle.

"What the actual fuck?" Sandy placed a hand on Patrick's shoulder. "Are you—obviously not okay—I don't even know what to say."

Chelsea stepped up to Sheriff Gómez. "Any word on what happened? How it started?"

The sheriff flagged Chief Lang stepped over to the group.

"Awfully sorry, Patrick. We got here as fast as possible. Unfortunately, it was already too far gone."

"What . . . how could this . . . ?" Patrick couldn't fathom what was in shambles before him.

Sandy took his hand and squeezed it. "Can you tell us anything?" he asked the chief.

"Arson. An accelerant was dumped haphazardly about. The first and second floors took the most damage. The third has smoke and water damage. We'll have an investigator take a deeper dive, but we found some burned-out gas cans inside the store." The chief glanced at all the faces in their group. "As far as I understand, the store was closed this afternoon?"

Patrick nodded, still staring at the building in shock.

"We closed down for the toy drive," Chelsea replied.

"Why would someone do this?" Patrick finally met the eyes of the chief.

"I'll be working closely with the fire investigator. And I can't believe I'm going to ask this clichéd question, but was anyone angry or upset with you, your family, or the store?" Sheriff Gómez hitched his hands onto his utility belt like an old west gunslinger.

Patrick debated the question. Dolan came to mind, but would he do something this horrible? Did he have the capacity to destroy a family store? And why? But Dolan was nearby, and he imagined that his mom had shared with Dolan the financial issues. He couldn't tell the Sheriff about Dolan. Not yet. He'd talk to his brother first. Patrick shook his head.

"What about that guy you fired?" Sandy asked.

Patrick turned to Sandy. "Who?" The past few days were a blur.

"He's talking about Wayne," Chelsea supplied.

The sheriff and chief exchanged looks.

"He came to work loaded, so I fired him." Patrick furrowed his brow. He couldn't believe Wayne could ever be sober enough to try something like this, and it didn't seem like he held a grudge, but who knew at this point?

"Chelsea called me about an incident at the store with him." The sheriff flipped open his notebook. "Drunk and sleeping it off in the locker room."

Patrick released Sandy's hand. This was all news to him. He turned his attention to Sandy and Chelsea. "Why didn't either one of you tell me about this?"

"I texted you." Chelsea added as if that explained everything.

"You were with your dad, and you probably missed it." Sandy shrugged.

"I turned him away from Ace's that morning. I gave him some coffee and sat him at a table, but when I returned, he'd taken off," Sam explained.

The sheriff wrote more notes in his book. "I'll swing by his house and talk to him. But if any of you think of anything else, please let me know." He tucked his black pad into his pocket.

Patrick gave a quick nod. How was he going to tell his dad and mom about this? They'd be shocked. He'd talk to his mom tonight. He'd have to call the insurance company and the bank and the vendors and about a million other places. Maybe they could wait a few days to tell his dad? The stomach churning returned. This was officially his worst nightmare come true.

Sandy removed his scarf and wrapped it around Patrick's neck. "I don't know if you're in shock, but you're even more white than usual, so I'm going to say, yes, you are in shock, and so I'm putting this on you to help warm you up. Damn. It's cold out here." Sandy looked to Sam and Chelsea.

"Let's go next door," Chelsea said, pointing at Ace's.

The next thing he knew, Sandy was looping his arm through his, and Sam took the other side. He might be right. Maybe I am in shock because my feet feel like they're stuck in blocks of ice.