7. Wink

7

Wink

I t wasn’t like I’d been expecting him to come out of his room the next morning and dash over to the tree, singing, “Good morning, Wink! See? I remember!” Because of course he didn’t remember. Just because I wasn’t surprised, that didn’t make the disappointment any less sharp. He’d simply been hungover and extra grouchy.

But at least part of him remembered me, since his raccoon still found me every night, cuddling into my lap. It was getting harder to coax him back to bed to let Derek get some real sleep, and I’d taken to bribing him with some time outside, playing in the snow.

Derek and his animal were completely out of balance, and I had no idea what to do about it. Was this even supposed to be my goal? Santa’s deadline loomed large in my mind. He’d said I had until next Christmas to prove something to him, but he hadn’t said what happened if I failed to meet the deadline. Would he take me away from my mate? He couldn’t possibly be so cruel. And while it was still almost a full year away, without a plan, I was starting to worry .

January passed, dark, cold, and increasingly miserable. The Christmas tree inevitably lost all its needles, nothing more than bare branches, and for a while I’d been worried about getting packed up in a box of Christmas ornaments, hidden away until next year. More time passed, though, and soon it was February. Valentine’s Day was right around the corner, and still, the tree remained.

Derek was in the kitchen baking as usual, but this time, his mother was hovering by his elbow. His father, meanwhile, had planted himself on the couch to watch the Super Bowl pregame on TV. His parents had returned from their cruise, tanned and happy, but it was pretty obvious they hated winter.

“The car almost didn’t start this morning,” his mom was saying, but I had to strain my ears to hear over the commentators on the TV.

“And I’ve had to scrape ice off the windows since we got back—twice!” his dad shouted into the next room, adding his two cents.

Derek barely looked up from where he was bent over the rack of cookies with his bag of red icing. “Personally, I like frost on the car windows. I scrape little happy faces in it, and then everyone smiles when they see me driving through town.” I couldn’t see his smile from here, but I could hear it, and it sent delicious little tingles through me.

“Well, we won’t have to deal with it anymore if we move to Florida,” his dad grumbled in a take-that manner.

Derek dropped his piping bag, his mouth gaping as he stood up straight. “You’re moving to Florida?”

“We’re just thinking about it, dear. Nothing is set in stone.” There was an awkward moment of silence that she seemed desperate to fill. “Are you sure I can’t help with anything?” she asked, reaching for the bowl of dough .

“Nope, it’s fine,” he snapped, grabbing the bowl and sliding it out of her grasp. He crossed his arms over his chest. “But what about when I have babies? Are you telling me you want to be so far away from your grandchildren?”

She gasped, a hand fluttering up to her mouth. “Are you pregnant ?” she squealed.

“No, no,” Derek tried to deflect, his cheeks turning pink.

“Did he say he’s pregnant?” his dad called, sitting up, almost excited enough to peel him away from the TV.

“No! I’m not,” he shouted back, but the damage was done. His mother was like a dog with a bone.

“I didn’t even know you were seeing someone. What’s his name—or her? Is it serious? Tell me all about him—or her. Are there wedding bells in the future?”

Derek had slapped his hands over his face as if to ward off the barrage of questions. “I’m not, Wink, yes, and maybe.” He’d said it all without thinking, and it took a moment for him to process everything he’d just said. He peeled his hands away, a strange distant look in his eyes. “I mean…”

My heart had stuttered to a complete halt. Did he just say my name? Out loud, to his mother? And that there was a possibility of marriage ?! That was the same thing as mating, right?

Derek was saved from answering by a knock at the door. “That must be Leander and Victor.” His cheeks had turned a bright crimson by now, and he looked relieved to get the hell out of there. He practically ran to the door, letting in an icy chill when he swung it open and dragged his friend inside by the front of his coat. “Leander, Victor! So glad you could make it. Please, make yourselves at home.” Then I saw him mouth the words “ Help me! ”

And because Leander was his best friend and knew exactly what that meant, he came barging into the kitchen and immediately took control of the conversation, steering it clear away from any hot-button topics.

Meanwhile, I was dying to hear more. Did Derek remember me after all? What did it all mean?

“These cookies look amazing,” Victor said. “Am I allowed to have one?”

Derek looked over the tray and picked one, handing it to him. “Here, I messed up the eyes on this one.”

“More elves?” Leander asked, snickering.

“They’re not elves,” Derek defended. “See? Not a single pointed ear or brass bell in sight.” He held one up, and I saw it was still a gingerbread man, but he was wearing a tuxedo with a red bow tie, and he had a cinnamon heart on his chest. “I call them my blind-date cookies. They’re for Valentine’s Day. What do you think?”

“I think you need to get laid,” Leander said, and Derek’s mom gave his arm a light smack, scolding him. “Ow!” he said, rubbing the spot but clearly not hurt.

Victor held the cookie up, now missing an arm since he’d already taken a bite. “He looks familiar…”

Leander snorted. “Yeah, must be the blue eyes and blond beard. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Derek has a crush on someone.”

“Someone named Wink, apparently,” his mother added conspiratorially. “An odd name… I wonder if he’s foreign.”

“Oh, look, it’s time for the game to start,” Derek said, blatantly ignoring all the curious glances being cast his way.

Derek ordered pizza and wings, and the four of them ate and watched the game. I, however, watched my mate. Was he stealing glances my way, or was I just being hopeful? This was torture !

When the game finished, I figured everyone would leave, but instead, Derek’s dad glanced my way. “Hey, Son, when are you finally going to take down your Christmas tree?” he asked, a strange expression on his face. “Pretty sure it’s dead, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Derek’s eyes flicked over to me, looking guilty. “I just haven’t gotten around to it yet… I guess I just like all the magic of Christmas, and there wasn’t anything to celebrate in January, so I… just left it.” He shrugged like it was no big deal, but I could see the tension in him.

We both knew there was something more here at play, but without his connection to his animal, he had no clue that we were mates. And since he was adopted, his parents were in the dark about shifters too, so Derek couldn’t possibly understand this draw he felt or the magic involved.

Maybe I should just tell him… What could possibly go wrong?

Leander got up off the couch. “Come on, we’ll help you pack it up. No more excuses. That tree is making me sad.”

“Oh… okay.” Derek reluctantly got up off the couch and went to grab the empty box from the storage closet.

It only took a few minutes, with everyone helping. The ornaments were plucked off the bare branches one at a time, then wrapped in tissue paper or bubble wrap and nestled into the box. One by one, I watched my silent companions get packed away, my heart ratcheting up until I thought it would burst straight out of my tiny glass chest. Did Christmas ornaments even have a blood pressure? Because it sure felt like I did!

At last, I was the only one left. With a drawn-out sigh, Derek drew my string off the branch, cradling me lovingly in his palm. He gazed at me, drinking in my every detail. Even made of glass, I could feel his gentle touch as he stroked a finger along my cheek. Then a crease formed between his eyebrows, and he turned to Leander and asked in a quiet voice, “Hey, does this ornament look different to you? His hair looks longer, and I’m pretty sure his position has changed.”

Leander looked at him skeptically, then glanced at me, an eyebrow quirked. “What, like he’s alive?” He snorted a laugh. “That’s just silly.”

Derek forced a laugh. “Yeah. Silly…”

But instead of packing me in the box alongside my ornament brethren, he carried me over to the bookshelf in the corner and set me on the ledge. I watched as he carried the box to the storage closet, but it seemed I would get to stay. For now…