Chapter 23 #2
It wasn’t long before kids began to arrive. The adults outnumbered the kids, including Bruce Holloway and quite a few of his police buddies, along with Hudson, his friend Jameson and some of the other firefighters.
A woman Gage didn’t recognize stepped up and invited the kids to take pictures with Santa before they were handed a gift from one of the six bags of presents.
Santa talked softly with the kids as they paraded on and off his lap, but the guy had obviously never been to Santa School.
“What’s got you looking like you got coal in your stocking?” Bruce asked.
“The police couldn’t afford a decent Santa?” Gage asked in a low voice.
“What’s wrong with that one?”
“The costume doesn’t fit because he’s so scrawny, and he hasn’t said a single ho–ho-ho. What kind of Santa doesn’t say that at least once?”
Bruce scratched at his mustache, and Gage swore the man hid a smile.
“Probably the kind that doesn’t get paid. Next time I’ll tell the guys you volunteer. Until then, why don’t you go sit on Santa’s lap? Maybe it’ll help that bad mood of yours.”
Gage scoffed, and when he saw Alec exit the convenience store with a few bags of drinks, he headed that way to help distribute them. The sooner they got this over with, the better.
He dreaded spending Christmas Eve with his family and opening gifts, but no excuse would get him out of it. Until then, he’d work himself to the bone and hope to forget it was a holiday.
Five minutes later, he had one drink left and turned to find Santa eyeing him from behind the bushy beard and fake eyebrows beneath a too-big hat. Santa quickly looked away and patted the last kid to be given a gift, sending him on his way.
That seemed to be the signal because the crowd of kids and parents gathered for the event began to clear out, and as quickly as they’d arrived, they were gone, a lot of them heading across the street toward the pier.
Some of the firefighter trainees cleaned up the trash while Alec, Brooks and Wolfe talked in a huddle to Bruce. He should probably be sociable and go join them, but the Grinch in him refused.
He snagged one of the cookies still left on the tray and bit in just as a whiff of vanilla and raspberry hit his nose.
He frowned at the cookie, then whirled around to scan the area but saw no one except the guys and the sad, skinny Santa.
As though sensing his stare, Santa lifted his gloved hand and waved Gage over to the chair where the Santa still sat.
But then a little girl had run up for a last-minute request and stared up at Gage with wary eyes as she asked if she could have two cookies.
“Sure,” he said, using a napkin to snag them from the container and handing them off.
“Did you tell Santa what you want for Christmas?”
“Yeah. Did you? My grandpa said I had to sit on Santa’s lap for my wish to come true, but I just told Santa what I wanted instead. Do you think I’ll get it?”
“I suppose that’s up to Santa. I mean, I have a wish, but I’m not sitting on his lap, either,” Gage said in a droll tone, attempting a joke and failing. “But feel free to ask Santa to grant my wish along with yours, okay?”
“What did you ask for?” the little girl questioned before taking a huge bite of a cookie.
Gage frowned but noted only Santa was close enough to hear their conversation. “Santa knows what I want.”
“Yeah, I suppose. Santa knows everything,” the little girl said in a solemn, too-serious voice.
Santa lifted a hand and lightly touched the red tip of his nose, nodding but not saying a word.
“I guess we’ll find out tonight if we get our wishes then, huh?” Gage said to the little girl. “Until then, you got a parent around here?”
She pointed over at Bruce. “Grandpa.”
“Okay then. You go get your grandpa, and I’ll go get to work. I’ve got a lot to do today.”
“Will you tell me your wish first?”
“You tell me yours,” he countered.
“I want a bike with no training wheels. What do you want?”
“Merida,” he said, trying to keep it simple because revealing his Christmas wish just felt…awkward. “Right here. Tonight.”
“What’s a Merida?”
Gage shook his head, a sad smile barely able to tug his lips up. “Now that’s a secret. I’ve gotta go, munchkin. I hope you get your bike.”
Gage worked the next few hours until the sun sank behind the river, and it was pitch dark, even though it was barely six-thirty.
He’d told Cole to take the day off and spend it with his wife and stepson, then spent the afternoon restocking a few shelves and doing general cleanup.
The schedule was extremely light over the next week, with only a few items on the calendar.
He could’ve closed up and gone home, but the townhouse was cold and empty. A shell of what it had been with Sloane inside doing her thing and organizing his chaos or just snuggling up and laughing at some quip in a movie.
He’d never considered himself lonely, but now he saw the difference in his old life and the one he’d lived with Sloane.
His phone chimed the same time as the computer, indicating someone was at the back entrance of the building. He headed toward the counter to check the screen, heart rate picking up speed at the force of the hope blooming inside him before he could shut it down.
She wasn’t coming back. He’d told himself so again and again, so as to not suffer more pain when Christmas came and went and she didn’t return to Carolina Cove.
He blinked at the image on the screen. It wasn’t Sloane or some drunk. It was the scrawny Santa from this morning.
Santa—who currently jiggled the door handle like he was trying to break in.
Gage saw red. His disappointment combined with his heartache and was quickly fueled by rage as he stalked into the back and quickly turned the locks to yank open the door.
He had Santa’s coat in his fist in a second flat and turned to press the skinny guy up against the plain gray space where the starfish used to be, a sight that tipped the scales even more. “What do you think you’re—”
“Merry Christmas.”