Chapter 34

34

GERARD

E very year, one lucky player on the team gets to pick out the Christmas tree for the Hockey House. This year, it’s my turn!

I don’t think Elliot knows what he’s getting into when it comes to my Christmas spirit. I hope he won’t run for the hills. I tend to get overzealous, like Buddy the Elf.

After a quick stop at the Hockey House to borrow Drew’s pickup truck, Elliot and I head to the Christmas tree lot on the outskirts of Berkeley Shore.

A fresh blanket of snow covers the roads while flakes fall slowly from the sky, transforming the world into a winter wonderland. I grip the steering wheel and navigate the truck carefully over the slick surface, but even the treacherous conditions can’t dampen my spirits.

I glance over at Elliot in the passenger seat, bundled up like an adorable burrito. His coat is zipped up to his chin, a colorful scarf wrapped snugly around his neck, and he’s wearing a knit hat with a fluffy pom-pom. He belongs on a Christmas card, rosy-cheeked and picture-perfect.

I’m sure I appear just as ridiculous, layered up in my winter gear, but I don’t care. I’m practically bouncing in my seat at the thought of picking out a Christmas tree with Elliot. Our first Christmas tree together. The first of many, I hope.

As we drive, I point out the festive decorations on the houses we pass—twinkling lights, inflatable snowmen, and wreaths on every door.

Elliot shakes his head and smiles, amused by my excessive enthusiasm. “You really love Christmas, huh?”

“What gave it away?” I grin at him before turning my attention back to the road. “Christmas is magical. The lights, the music, the food, the presents. But most of all, being with the people you love. And now I get to share it with you.”

Elliot’s eyes soften behind his glasses. “I’m happy to be a part of your Christmas, Gerard. Even if you are kind of a fanatic.”

“Hey now, I resent that!” I laugh and reach over to squeeze his gloved hand. “Just wait until we bring the tree home. The guys won’t know what hit them.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Elliot chuckles, fiddling with the radio dial until he finds a station playing classic Christmas tunes. Michael Bublé and Shania Twain’s cover of “White Christmas” starts playing, and I grin. I love this song, and I can’t stop myself from singing along.

It doesn’t hurt that my deep voice blends well with Bublé’s smooth crooning. And then, something incredible happens. As Shania Twain’s verse starts, Elliot joins in.

I’m so shocked that I nearly swerve off the road. Elliot is singing…with me! Call everyone you know because this is a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

We sing through the entire song, our voices meshing in a beautiful Christmas duet. I’m grinning hard enough to make my cheeks hurt. I want to pull the truck over, haul Elliot into my arms, and kiss him until we’re both breathless.I want to tell him how amazing he is, how he surprises me in the best way possible, how he makes me happier than the happiest man on earth.

Well, Gerard, there’s no time like the present .

We pull up to a red light, and I put the car in park. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I face Elliot.

“Gerard, what are you?—”

I don’t let him finish. My gloved hand finds his cheek, my thumb brushing over his lower lip as I lose myself in his eyes. He leans into my touch, a subtle, intuitive movement that sends my heart racing. “I need you to know something.”

Before he can ask what that something is, and before I can second-guess myself, I close the gap between us and press my lips to his. They taste faintly of the candy cane he was secretly nibbling on earlier while I searched for my snow boots.

As the kiss continues, he makes this little noise in the back of his throat, halfway between a sigh and a whimper, and my dick wakes up. I kiss him harder, desperate to hear that sound again.

We battle for dominance, and I don’t think either of us wants the other to lose.

I pour every ounce of emotion into this kiss, trying to express what I’m still too scared to say out loud. That he’s everything to me and that I hope I’m everything to him.

I know he understands because he reclines my seat and shoves my pants hastily down to my thighs.

“Elliot, what are you—holy mother of all that is good and pure!” His lips wrap tightly around the head of my cock.

Ever since that first time in Colorado, Elliot and I have been sucking each other off at least once a day. But this time is better than all the other times because now I know I love him, and I believe he loves me, too.

Elliot grips my thighs, his glasses slightly askew. His eyes are glued to mine, and I’ve never seen such a beautiful sight. I have to close my eyes to keep myself from coming too soon. I take pride in not being a premature ejaculator.

The truck’s windows fog up, hiding the night outside as our passion fills the car. “Elliot. I’m so close.”

He hums around me, and the vibration is my undoing. I cry out, spilling myself down Elliot’s throat. Caught in the throes of pleasure, my hand slips from the steering wheel and accidentally hits the horn.

I’m not surprised by the “awooga” sound; Drew has been talking nonstop about how he got it installed over Thanksgiving.Elliot snickers around my cock, and I come some more.

Needing to grab something that isn’t the steering wheel or Elliot’s head, my hand slaps the driver’s side window like Rose’s— or was it Jack’s? —did in Titanic , as I slowly come back to reality. “That was…wow. Elliot, you are…wow. I can’t even begin to?—”

“You don’t need to say anything, Gerard,” he murmurs, his voice low and tender as he massages my quivering thighs. “I know. I know how you feel about me. And I…I love you, too.”

My heart skips a beat or ten. Elliot Montgomery, the guy who keeps his emotions locked up tighter than Fort Knox, just told me he loves me.

I bend down and kiss him harder than I’ve ever kissed him. The taste of me still lingers on his tongue, and I am overwhelmed with love for this remarkable man. As I catch a glimpse of my handprint on the window, I remind myself to wipe it away before Drew sees it and starts asking questions. But even when I do, the memory of our passionate encounter will be seared into my brain. Forever.

Families wander around as children dart excitedly from one tree to the next. Their laughter rings into the night while a Santa Claus statue belly laughs nearby, adding to the ambiance.

I hop out of the truck and open Elliot’s door before he can beat me to it. He rolls his eyes but accepts the gesture. We walk hand in hand— or is it glove in glove? —into the heart of the tree lot.

“Okay, tell me, what exactly are we looking for here?” Elliot asks, his breath clouding in front of him as he speaks. “I mean, a tree is just a tree, right?”

I gasp in mock horror, pressing a hand to my chest. “My dear, sweet Elliot. A tree is most definitely not just a tree! This is the centerpiece of our holiday cheer. The beacon of Christmas spirit for the Hockey House! It has to be perfect!”

“Alright then, Mr. Christmas Tree Expert, lead the way to this ‘perfect beacon.’”

We move through the rows of trees as “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” plays loudly from the speakers beneath the light fixtures.I point to a towering Douglas fir, its branches reaching toward the star-filled sky. “Now, see? This one is too tall. It’ll scrape the ceiling if we don’t cut off the top, which would be a tragedy.”

Elliot nods as he considers my words. “Okay, that’s a no to the giant ones. Got it.”

We walk to a shorter, fuller tree with deep, rich green needles. I circle it, assessing it from every angle. “This one has potential, but look.” I gently tug on one of the branches, revealing a gaping hole near the trunk. “It’s got a bald spot. We can’t have a tree with a comb-over, Elliot. It’s inhumane.”

His laugh mixes with the Christmas music. “You’re taking this very seriously, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am!” I exclaim as I move on to the next tree. “It’s not Christmas if it’s all wrong.”

“Alright, what about this one then?”

He points to a tree that’s a tiny bit shorter than me. Its branches are evenly spaced, and its needles are a vibrant, healthy green. I narrow my eyes. It does appear perfect. Symmetrical, full, no apparent flaws. But then I lean in to take a deep sniff and my nose wrinkles.

“No, this one smells all wrong.” I pinch my nose. “It’s too…piney.”

Elliot blinks at me. “Too piney? Gerard, it’s a pine tree . ”

“Exactly!” I nod emphatically. “It should smell like Christmas, not a car air freshener.”

He presses his lips together, clearly fighting back a smile. “Right. Of course. My mistake.”

We keep walking, and I point out the flaws in each tree we pass while Elliot gamely tries to follow my logic.

“This one’s too sparse.”

“This one leans to the left.”

“This one has a weird kink in the trunk, see?”

Finally, Elliot throws up his hands in exasperation. “Gerard, we’re nearly out of trees. Are you sure you’re not just being picky?”

I grin at him, undeterred by his annoyance. “Fret not, babe. When I see it, I’ll know.”

And sure enough, I do. A magnificent Fraser fir stands proud and tall at the back of the lot. It’s the perfect height, a few inches taller than me, and completely symmetrical. It’s a storybook illustration brought to life.

I face Elliot, my eyes wide with excitement. “Elliot, look! It’s perfect!”

He follows my gaze and takes in the majestic tree. I can see the moment it clicks for him, the realization that, yes, I’m right, this is the one.

“Okay, I’ll admit it. That is a damn fine Christmas tree, Gerard.”

I beam at him, my chest puffing up with pride. “See? I told you I’d know it when I saw it.”

Elliot rolls his eyes. “Yes, yes, you’re the Christmas tree whisperer. Congratulations.”

I grin at his sarcasm. I love it when I can get Elliot to admit I’m right about something, especially concerning matters of the heart and holiday cheer.

I flag down one of the college guys working here, a tall dude with shaggy blond hair and a neon green vest. “Hey, dude, I want this one! The most perfect tree in all the land! ”

The guy’s eyes ping-pong between me and the tree. A smile spreads across his face. “Excellent choice, bro. That’s one of our finest firs.”

I nod, bouncing on the balls of my feet in excitement. “It sure is! So how much do I owe you for this beauty?”

The guy’s grin widens, and he leans in like he’s about to share a secret. “Two-fifty.”

My jaw drops open, and I hear Elliot make a choking sound beside me. “Two-fifty?! For a tree?!”

The guy shrugs, unfazed by my shock. “It’s a premium tree, dude. Hand-selected from our finest stock. Plus, we’re getting close to Christmas. The prices are increasing.”

I shake my head, appalled at the sheer audacity of corporate greed. “But what about the spirit of Christmas? The joy of giving? The season of goodwill toward men and all that jazz?”

Elliot snorts beside me, and I swat his butt, making him yelp. The guy laughs and raises his hands in a “what can you do?” gesture.

“Sorry, bro, but the spirit of Christmas doesn’t pay my tuition. Two-fifty is the price—take it or leave it.”

I’m about to argue and see if I can haggle it down to a more reasonable amount when Elliot steps forward, pulling out his wallet. He hands his credit card to the guy as if spending all that money on a Christmas tree is no big deal for him. But I know that probably cost him his last five paychecks.

The dude glances at the name on the card and then back at Elliot. “Alright, Mr. Montgomery, I’ll go run this and get you a receipt. You two hang tight; I’ll be right back.”

He saunters off toward the little hut that serves as the lot’s office, leaving me gaping at Elliot in disbelief. “Elliot, are you mad? That’s way too much for a tree! I could’ve talked him down. You didn’t have to do that.”

Elliot shrugs. “It’s not a big deal, Gerard. Consider it my Christmas gift to the team for letting me move into the Hockey House. ”

I stare at him, my heart swelling in my chest until it might burst. This man, this incredible, selfless, generous man, never ceases to amaze me. Here he is, dropping a small fortune on a Christmas tree, not for himself, but for the team. For the guys who welcomed him into their home and their family with open arms.

Tears well in the corners of my eyes, and I blink rapidly to hold them back. “Elliot, you didn’t have to do that. The guys just want you to be happy and feel at home with us.”

His brown eyes glow warmly under the Christmas lights. “I know, Gerard. And that’s exactly why I want to do it. Because the Hockey House…it is my home. You guys are my family. And getting this ridiculously overpriced tree is my way of showing that. Of saying thank you.”

A single tear runs slowly down my cheek. I don’t wipe it away because I’m too busy kissing the ever-loving crap out of my boyfriend. The love of my life.

If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.