Twenty

Nic

M y last good Christmas involved homemade reindeer food and traps for elves that I knew didn't exist. I was too old for the kinds of shit my mom liked doing, but it made her happy. The Christmas after that, I was forced to spend time with my dad and his new family—my first holiday with Tracey and Cade.

Seeing my dad happy had the exact opposite effect that seeing my mom happy did. It made me sick—physically ill. I didn't understand why my mom was suffering while he was living life exactly the same as always—the only difference was that it wasn't with us. He had a new wife, one who wasn't prone to major depressive episodes, and a son who didn't resent him. It felt like an injustice.

I can hear Cade downstairs in the kitchen. I don't know what he's doing, but all the noise is stressing me out. I don't want him to try and make today special. I don't want to have to hurt his feelings when I end up not being able to muster up any fake smiles.

Things are different between us. Sex and isolation will do that, but I can see through it—the bullshit. I know that things have an expiration date. Riding my dick doesn't change that. Playing doctor with my fucked up legs definitely doesn't change it, but I don't know if he realizes that.

There's this constant undercurrent of dread threatening me no matter how good things feel with Cade. We can be binging his favorite shows, laughing and touching, and it means nothing. Not when I know that it'll end. It'll end up being like all the good times with my mom—nothing but memories.

I kind of want to leave. We came in my car, so it's not like I don't have the option. I don't know what I would do or where I would go, but at least I wouldn't be so antsy. I could go see my mom—I should go see my mom. I was going to in a week anyway.

But I don't want to get up.

"Nic?"

I open my eyes but can't seem to bring myself to do anything more. I listen to the sounds of him walking further into the room and still can't be bothered to turn around. It seems like too much work to roll over and look at him. And I'm not sure I could handle it if I did. I'm a bundle of nerves and don't even know why. My heart is trying to hammer itself into an upset, beating faster for no reason.

"Are you hungry?"

He doesn't give me the chance to ignore him, climbs in bed with me, and hooks a leg over my hip so that I have no choice but to acknowledge him. I can feel his breath on the back of my neck just as his hand slips under my shirt, his fingers warm as they fan out over my abs.

"I'm good." I can't help but lean back and press my body into his. It helps, having him all over me like this. It's calming—like my own living, breathing Xanax. With his body heat keeping me warm, I don't have to wonder if he wants me here or if he's sad that he's stuck with me on today of all days. It allows me to take a deep breath, almost a sigh of relief.

How pathetic.

He doesn't know how to deal with me like this. We've gotten cozy together. We share a room and have the same job, and for the past few days, we've spent every single hour together. I can feel myself shutting down, sinking into the beginnings of misery, and he's noticing. He's tried to get me up a few times to no avail. He doesn't know that it's just the day—my mom and the fact that once again my dad doesn't want me here—and he wouldn't understand.

His fingertips slip under the band of my sweats, his palm smoothing over my happy trail as his hand slides lower. I expect him to do more, go for my dick like a normal person, but he just keeps gently caressing my groin.

"What the hell are you doing?"

He snickers behind me, pulling his hand out of my pants and rolling over me with a grunt. "What, I can't cop a feel?"

"Of my pubes?" I cock a brow at him, matching the little half-assed grin he gives me.

"Let's do something."

I sigh. "I was doing something."

"Yeah, as cool as sleeping the day away is, I think we should do something else. Like get up."

I want to protest, tell him that I hate Christmas and I don't want to celebrate. But he is stuck with me, and I feel a little guilty for it. Maybe even more than a little.

"What do you want to do?"

His smile grows, deepening that divot in his chin. It's on impulse that I touch him, plant my thumb right there over the scruff he hasn't shaved once since we got here. I didn't realize he even had to shave so much, but he must. I'm pretty sure he shaves more than I do.

"We can hang in the treehouse."

I don't know what I expected, but it definitely wasn't that.

"We can bring a bunch of blankets and my iPad and watch movies. Or more Grey's."

I let my thumb slide across his lips, feeling my chest tighten as he waits for my answer. It feels like he deliberately chose something not at all Christmas-like for me.

"Hm, I would—" I purse my lips, teasing him as I remember something from forever ago. "But I'm not allowed in the treehouse."

He rolls his eyes, but to be fair, it's true. He banned me himself years ago. At one point, there was even a poorly drawn sign stating so—before his mom made him take it down. But I didn't want to go in there anyway. It was designated for Liam and Cade, and I wanted no part of that.

I think I was jealous. I didn't have friends, and seeing those two together all the time reminded me of that. Also, my dad built that treehouse for Cade. He never built one for me.

But it sounds okay now. Being alone with Cade in tight spaces—that's pretty much the only thing I like doing these days.

"I'm officially unbanning you, Nic. Congrats." He climbs back over me, almost kneeing me in my ribcage instead of just getting off on his side of the bed. And I have no choice but to get up when he pulls my comforter away. "Let's go."

We wrangle up as many blankets as we can and head out there. It's colder than I expected, but Cade's suggestion that we use each other for warmth seems like a good enough idea to me. Plus, we've found almost every blanket in the house to pile up into a nest. Once I'm sinking into it, I can definitely see myself sweating up here eventually. Especially with as touchy as Cade can be.

It becomes clear that it was a planned event when he pulls out a tumbler of hot chocolate. And when he skips over all the Christmas shit Netflix has and starts suggesting scary movies, I know that it's definitely for me. He's aware the day has me down and is actively trying to keep my mind off of it.

I don't know what to make of it, but as the movie we pick starts, I know that I'm grateful that he forced me out here—and not just to the treehouse. If I'd stayed at the apartment alone, I know I'd be in bed doing nothing but letting myself feel bad.

It's not a fair trade—I get him coddling me and doing what he can to make sure I'm not sad, and he gets… nothing. Me. It's not a fair trade at all, but I'm letting myself be a little selfish.

The only reminder I get of what day it is is a short Merry Christmas text from Baby, but I don't even open it. I do check to see if my dad sent anything, but I figure it's best to just turn my phone off when I find nothing. Before I can be too bothered by it, Cade's wrapping an arm around me and spewing nonsense about how he would have for sure been too smart to fall for the killer's bullshit as he once again makes me the little spoon.

"Why am I always the little spoon?"

"Because I realized you're shorter than me."

"By an in—" I shut my mouth when he starts to laugh.

"I'm just the big spoon, emo boy. I don't know what else to tell you. If you don't like it, I can—"

I push him back to where he is when he tries to crawl over me. "I didn't say that."

He places a kiss behind my ear as he burrows into me, throwing his leg over mine. "I got you something."

"Why?" I sit up, forcing him off of me as I move to face him. It's a stupid question, but for a moment, I'm genuinely confused. He's never given me anything, not ever. We're not those kinds of brothers—at least, we didn't used to be. And I know that gifts are a normal part of this stupid fucking day, but I thought we'd settled on pretending it was just any other boring day—that's what I was banking on.

We had a few gifts from our parents under their tree that we opened a couple days ago because we—Cade—didn't want to didn't want to wait. It really pointed out just how little they know me. Cade got clothes that I know he'll wear, the Oculus headset that he's been talking about for a while, and some other random things I know he was happy to open. I got a couple band tees from bands I don't listen to, some school supplies for the upcoming semester and gifts cards. I think he felt sorry for me, watching me open them and knowing me enough to know that they weren't gifts that were purchased with me in mind.

So maybe that's why he got me something—because he feels sorry for me. I think that's why he does half the things he does for me. Pity.

"I don't know." He digs under our pile of blankets and pulls out a small black box. "I know we aren't celebrating, but it is Christmas, and I just…" He shrugs, looking at my chest as a faint blush spreads over his cheeks. "I wanted to, I guess."

"Cade," I start, holding back the annoyance I shouldn't be feeling. But I thought that we had an unspoken deal. "I didn't get you anything." I'm kind of mad that I didn't.

"That's fine. I didn't expect you to."

He doesn't even say it like it upsets him, and that makes it so much worse. Truthfully, I did think about it, getting him a gift, but I didn't think we were the kinds of people who got each other presents. I've known him for nearly half my life and have never given him a single thing. Not unless bruises and hard-ons count.

When I make no moves to reach for it, he opens it for me. It's a necklace. Nothing fancy. A small silver chain with a solid black dog tag hanging off it.

"I don't wear necklaces." I'm being a dick, I know that. I can tell he's nervous giving it to me, but I don't understand why he'd do this.

"I know. It's—you don't need to wear it. It's more…" He stops talking. Picks it up and opens the necklace. It's a locket, and I'm even more confused now. "It's you and your mom. Just to have."

"What?" I take it out of his hand and hold it in the minimal light slipping through the sheet we have covering the door. I inspect it up close and see a small black-and-grey image engraved into the metal. It's me and my mom sporting big, toothy smiles. It's one of the pictures I have of her in my photo album. I keep it in the bedside table between our beds—meaning he must have gone through my things to get it. Maybe I should be mad, but I'm not. It's a good gift.

It was before she got sad. Or sadder, I guess. Before my adult teeth came in, and the vitiligo was only just starting to spread more.

"There's two." He pulls another box out of his pocket and opens that one too. "I figured your mom would like one," he stuns me by saying. "You can give it to her the next time you see her or whenever." Another shy little shrug, and it hits me right then that he doesn't know.

"Oh."

"Here." He sets the packaging in my hands and moves to turn back around. "We should probably go inside. It's getting dark, and—"

"Cade." I grab his wrist to stop him from leaving our cozy little nest. "Thank you." My throat feels thick and is burning with the urge to cry. He got my mom a Christmas present—thought of her when nobody else does anymore. Not my dad. Not even Paulina. It's been up to me alone to remember her. "She… thank you."

I think my mom would like Cade. Maybe. If she could get past him being the other woman's son. And she'd love the necklace. It's not expensive, not even something a woman would wear, but it's sweet and thoughtful and she'd love it.

"You're welcome." He smiles, genuinely happy that I'm grateful for the gifts. "I figured you guys missed each other, so…"

My chest swells with so much adoration, so much gratitude and love that it's almost overwhelming. I don't know what to do with all of it. I was blaming missing my mom for my bad mood, but it's more than that. It's Cade. It's the timer we have on this thing. I just don't want it to end.

"Thanks." I lean forward and kiss him, a small peck before I pull away awkwardly and laugh through my nose when his eager lips follow mine.

He reads me so well it'd be creepy if I wasn't so obsessed with him. Like knowing I don't want to celebrate Christmas or that I'm missing my mom. Knowing that despite spitting in his mouth, I don't want his tongue in mine. He just pays attention to things, to me, and it blows my mind. I don't deserve it.

I let him keep kissing me, reveling in the added weight when he settles over my lap. Listen to his blissful little moans as he grinds his hips into mine. His lips start to move down, his stubble scratching against mine as he nips over my jaw, moving lower and lower. I have to tug on his hair to stop him from sucking on my neck, and am so fucking happy hearing the sound of his laugh.

"Cade," I murmur, closing my eyes when he gives me his undivided attention. I love him. I am in love with him, want shit that just isn't possible, and I don't know what to do. So, I ask him the stupidest question I've ever asked anyone. "What are we?"

"You—" The question stumps him, and with every split second he goes not giving me an answer I want to hide that much more. "I… don't know."

My head nods despite the disappointment I feel, my body fully accepting his nonanswer. It makes sense. I'm not sure either, so I don't know why I expected anything more from him.

"Nic."

I can't stand it. "It's fine."

"I don't—"

"Cade, it's fine." I open my eyes to give him a wan smile—try to make it less sad, but know that I fail.

"Stop. That's not—"

"It's fine," I say again, grab a hold of his hips so that I can push him off of me, but he panics.

"Wait!" He holds my face between his hands, distressed that I might pull away. "Nic, I'm not saying—of course, I want—fuck. Fuck , Nic." His forehead rests against mine, and I just sit there. Wait. Hope that he doesn't disappoint me anymore, but finding it unbelievable that he won't. "What about my mom? Your dad?"

It's a good point. One I've wondered about myself is when I let myself wish for more. "I get it," I tell him truthfully. I do. He has so much more to lose than me. People to disappoint. Picking me over anything else isn't some easy choice for him. It's not even a plausible one.

It was a silly lapse in judgment. I knew what my role was in this situation, but the necklaces had me losing brain cells. I won't let it happen again.

"Nic, do you—are you saying you'd date me? Be my boyfriend?"

I take a second to examine his face, try to make sense of what it is he wants me to say here, and come up short. My open book is very hard to read at the moment. I want to say yes. The word boyfriend never crossed my mind, but Cade is mine. He feels like mine, and anything else doesn't make sense. Nothing else feels right. But I play it safe.

"No. No, that's not what I meant. I just wanted to know what we were doing."

"Oh." He relaxes on top of me, his entire body slumping in relief as he looks down, probably hiding the look that says he dodged a bullet. "Well… I don't see why anything has to change, right?" His fingers flex where they've moved to the tops of my shoulders, and at least I know where he stands on that.

"I guess."

"It's just… they're getting married soon, you know?"

"What?" I have no clue what he's talking about. It takes me a second to assume that he means Tracey and Anton. They're already married, but I know she's been asking for an actual wedding for a long time.

"Their wedding? They—did your dad not tell you?"

The look on my face tells him that I have zero clue what he's talking about.

"Oh." He's uncomfortable. Even he knows that my dad should have told his own fucking son that he was having a wedding soon—especially since it's so close to my mom's death date. "Well, yeah. They are."

Nobody thought to fucking tell me—not even Cade? Am I even invited?

"Your dad and my mom never had a wedding and decided that now was a good time. My mom has wanted one for a while. Years, y'know? And I don't want to ruin things for her. I'm supposed to walk her down the aisle, and she doesn't need to be thinking about you and me fucking while that happens."

You and me fucking . It's hard to believe that it's all it is, that there isn't more between us, but that was just me being fucking stupid.

"You're walking her down the aisle?"

"Yeah." He smiles, and I feel that little grin like a punch to my chest. This is a fun thing for him. Something special he gets to share with his mom. With my dad. He's a part of it while I'm…

I don't even want to be a part of it. My mom doesn't deserve that. If my mom were getting married, I'd love to walk her down the aisle, so I don't blame Cade for being happy for his mom.

I doubt I'll even go, that they even want me there. I know Tracey doesn't. And Cade, how would he act around me if I did go? They both think he hates me—what if he thinks he needs to keep that up? I'm not going, not dealing with that.

"When is it?"

His answer solidifies the choice for me. I have plans that day anyway .