Chapter Thirty-Six Charlotte
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHARLOTTE
Nonnegotiable
O UR KITCHEN SMELLS LIKE CINNAMON AND SUGAR . I T ’ S MY FAVORITE combination in the whole entire world, and the familiar scent of cookies baking in the oven wraps around me like a warm blanket. Mom and I have been at it for hours, our hands dusted with flour, the counter cluttered with cookie cutters and bowls of frosting. It’s one of those moments that feels like it’s out of time, like nothing else in the world matters but the dough beneath my hands and the steady rhythm of Mom’s humming beside me.
This has always been our tradition, a moment of peace amid the usual holiday chaos, but the irony of it is that neither of us are very good bakers. In fact, we sort of suck. Ava’s Christmas cookies taste a hell of a lot better. Even Dad produces superior gingerbread people.
Somehow, Mom and I always end up covered in flour, no matter how careful we are, and we’re officially banned from using the candy cane molds after the Great Penis Cookie Debacle five years ago.
When I was little, Mom tried incorporating Korean cookies into our holiday baking, but she made the mistake of explaining they used rice wine and were deep fried. Like a total brat, I threw a tantrum, because cookies “weren’t supposed to have rice in them.”
And then there was the Christmas they invited Daisy, my elementary school classmate, and her family for dinner thinking it would create a cultural connection, only to discover that Daisy’s family was even more American than ours. Her parents were second-generation Korean Americans who felt zero kinship to their parents’ homeland and didn’t care if Daisy did either. At least mine tried to keep me connected to the culture.
And I resisted it every step of the way.
“These snowflakes look a little sad, don’t they?” Mom teases, nudging me with her elbow as she reaches for another piece of dough.
I glance down at the cookies I’ve been cutting, realizing she’s right. The shapes are uneven, the edges ragged where my hands were shaking a little too much.
I force a smile, trying to keep things light. “Nah. They’re abstract. Very modern.”
She laughs.
“Hey, what were those Korean cookies you used to make when I was a kid?” I ask her.
“Hmm. I can’t remember what they were called, but your dad and brother loved them. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. Just thinking it might be nice to learn how to make them.”
Taking a breath, I gauge her reaction, but although she looks startled, she also seems pleased.
“Oh, that would be wonderful, honey. What a great idea. I’ll dig through my old recipe books later. Maybe we can grab some ingredients tomorrow.”
She smiles at me, and for a moment, it feels like everything’s okay. Like I’m just here with my mom, baking cookies for Christmas, and there’s nothing weighing down my chest.
But then the back door opens, and the illusion shatters. Cold air rushes into the kitchen, and with it comes Ava. The tension creeps in behind her like an unwelcome guest.
“Honey! You’re just in time,” Mom says, greeting her with a smile. Her brow furrows when she notices Ava is alone. “Where’s Ash? We thought he was coming with you.”
Ava shrugs out of her coat, hanging it by the door. “He had to work over the holidays, so he stayed in New York.”
Mom’s smile falters. “Oh, that’s too bad. We were really looking forward to meeting him.”
I focus on the cookies, trying to stay out of this conversation. Trying to keep the peace that’s been so fragile since I told Ava about Harrison. Like clockwork, she’s been texting me every few days about it, asking if I’d told our parents yet. So of course, this afternoon is no different. Mom steps out of the kitchen for a moment to check on the laundry, and as soon as she’s gone, Ava pounces.
“You’re going to tell them during the break, right?”
I don’t look up. I keep myself busy with the dough, pressing the cutter into it with more force than necessary. “I’ll tell them when I’m ready. Stop pressuring me.”
“Charlotte, come on. You’re being ridiculous. You can’t keep avoiding this. They deserve to know,” she scolds, crossing her arms like she’s the one who’s been wronged here.
“I know that,” I bite back, finally meeting her gaze. There’s a warning in my voice, but she’s not backing down. “It’s my decision, okay? I’ll tell them when I’m good and ready.”
“You can’t keep this a secret forever.”
“Oh my God, I know that ,” I repeat, my irritation spilling over. “Ava. Seriously. Just back off, okay?”
“Whatever. I’m going to get my bag from the car.” She huffs, turning toward the door just as Mom reenters the kitchen, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing between her daughters.
HARRISON:
Nah, it’s better this way. Dad is always meaner than usual during the holidays. Last few years I’ve avoided him altogether at Xmas.
Sitting at the kitchen table, I stare at the text I just received from Harrison and wonder how the hell to respond to it. It’s the message he sent in response to me saying it’s a bummer he’s spending Christmas in California with friends instead of with his father and grandparents in Nevada. I only recently found out he’s somewhat close with those grandparents. From what he’s described, they seem nice. His father, not so much.
The guilt settles over me, suffocating the joy of being here with my own family. Despite the tension between me and Ava, the house is buzzing with warmth. Christmas music playing softly in the background, the smell of pine from the tree, my mom and Oliver laughing about something as they tidy up the family room after our rowdy game of charades. My dad went for a walk with my sister-in-law, and soon we’re going to put on a cheesy holiday rom-com and watch it in our pj’s.
It’s everything Harrison doesn’t have, and I hate that for him. But I also won’t apologize for my circumstances, the way he seems to want me to.
Ava enters the kitchen, her eyes catching mine before she heads to the fridge to grab a drink. I quickly turn my phone face down on the counter, but not before she notices.
“Is that him? The brother?”
I nod. “Just saying happy holidays.” When I see her frown, I give one of my own. “Stop it. Please. I don’t need the constant looks of disapproval.”
The last few days have been a struggle. Every time we’ve been in the same room, her disappointment has been palpable, radiating off her in waves.
“They deserve to know, Char,” she says now, sounding like a broken record at this point.
“It’s Christmas. I’m not going to drop a bomb on them right now.” I feel defensive, like I have to justify the knot in my stomach that I haven’t been able to untangle since I got here.
She sighs, visibly frustrated, but doesn’t push it further. For now anyway. I have no doubt she’ll push me again later. Ava grabs a wine cooler from the middle shelf, then closes the fridge and walks out of the kitchen.
I know she’s right, but I can’t handle this. Not now. Not with the self-reproach clawing at me every time I glance at my phone and think of Harrison spending the holidays with random friends while I’m here, surrounded by people who love me.
I’m debating taking a walk to clear my head when my phone buzzes again. I tense, expecting another message from Harrison, but it’s Beckett.
I swipe to find a screenshot in our group chat, advertising an all-night rave. The date says it’s tomorrow, and the location is a mere hour’s drive from my family’s house.
My pulse speeds up. I can’t believe they remembered. When I told the guys about my desire to go to a rave, take some molly, and dance all night long, I was only half-serious. It sounds like a ton of fun on paper, but the reality is a bit scary. I’m not a drug girl. Hell, I don’t even like to smoke weed. It gives me headaches.
Another message pops up.
BECKETT:
I’m back from Indy tomorrow morning. Should we go?
But…I think I need this. I need to escape the pressure and the guilt and the weight of all the secrets I’m carrying. There’s still another week left in the holiday break. Ava isn’t flying back to New York for another two days. I need this.
Just one night to regroup. I could meet up with the boys, let loose for twenty-four hours, and then come back here to spend New Year’s with my family.
I hesitate for only a moment before typing back.
ME:
I’m in.
And that’s how I end up at an EDM party near Hartford the following night. I drive out there myself, parking my car in a huge gravel lot behind the sprawling warehouse where the rave is taking place. The cold December air bites at my skin as I step out of the car, adjusting the hem of my dress under my coat. My heart is already racing, and I haven’t even gone inside yet.
I texted the guys when I was five minutes away. Now I watch them striding across the lot toward me, my heart skipping a beat at the sight of them. I haven’t seen them in a week, and I’m startled to realize I missed them.
A lot.
It doesn’t hurt that they both look smoking hot tonight. Will is dressed in a black button-down that clings to his broad chest, paired with dark jeans and boots. His hair is styled away from his forehead, emphasizing his chiseled cheekbones and clean-shaven face. Beckett is rocking his usual laid-back style—fitted jacket over a white T-shirt, jeans slung low on his hips, and that casual, cocky smirk that always melts me.
“Damn,” Beckett murmurs. “That is some dangerous lipstick, sugar puff.”
I opted for a bloodred lip for the night’s festivities, pairing it with a smoky eye, and the appreciation on both their faces is confirmation I achieved the desired result.
Will grins at me. “You’re not gonna make it easy on us tonight, are you?”
“Why would I? I like it when you’re hard.”
That summons a low groan from Beckett. “You’re such a cocktease.”
“You love it.” I laugh before my expression sobers. “How is your friend doing?”
They’d both gone to Vermont last weekend for a funeral—one of their teammates lost his father to cancer last week, which is devastating enough as it is. But for it to happen right before the holidays? Brutal.
“Not great,” Beckett admits. “Shane’s spending the holidays helping his mom sell their house. It’s fucking sad.”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up,” I say with a sigh.
“It’s fine,” Will says. “But yeah, probably not the best topic of conversation right before a rave.”
Nodding, I unzip my coat and slip it off my shoulders. “I think I’ll leave this in the car. Don’t want to lose it inside.”
The moment my coat is off, the heat of their stares sizzles into me. The mint-green dress I chose hugs my limited curves, with a plunging neckline that reveals just enough upper boob to make their jaws slack. It’s tight in all the right places, the hem stopping midthigh, showing off my legs.
Beckett eyes me up and down. “Jesus, Charlie. You look fucking unreal.”
Before I can respond, he tugs me toward him, capturing my lips in a deep kiss. His hands slide around my waist, gripping me tight, and static electricity sparks between us, prickling across my flesh. When he finally pulls back, Will is already there, his hand slipping around my neck as he leans in to kiss me too—rougher, hungrier, making me moan into his mouth.
For a moment, I forget where we are. All I feel is the heat of their bodies pressing against mine, the way their hands move like they know every inch of me, claiming me in a way that weakens my knees. Will’s fingers trail down to my hip, and Beckett’s breath is hot against my ear.
“We should probably—” he begins, then clears the lust from his throat. “Stop,” he finishes hoarsely.
“Yeah,” Will agrees. “We need to talk business.”
I blink up at them, still breathless from their kisses. “Did you guys already pay the cover?”
Will nods. “Yeah, that’s all taken care of. Also booked a hotel room nearby, as promised. We got you, babe.”
“And…” Beckett reaches into his pocket. His hand emerges with a tiny clear baggie, which he grasps between his fingers. “We took care of this part too.”
I stare at the teeny ecstasy pill, and suddenly the night feels even more charged.
They actually did it. I’m not even going to ask how they procured the drug. Plausible deniability, obviously. But my heart races at the sight of it. It’s part nerves, part anticipation, but mostly excitement for what’s about to happen.
I glance between them. “I can’t believe you made this happen.”
When I reach for the baggie, Beckett closes his fist around it. “No, baby girl.”
I frown.
“Not until we talk about the rules,” he clarifies, his voice firm.
I raise an eyebrow. “I thought the whole point of tonight was throwing away the rule book.”
Will’s tone is equally uncompromising. “Not yet. Before you take this, we need to get a few things straight.”
He’s trying to be the stern, protective guy—and he’s pulling it off. I love it when Will gets like this. Leaning into his commanding alpha side. I can’t help but smirk a little, knowing how much he cares but also knowing I’m going to push back, just a bit.
“Fine. Let’s discuss.”
Beckett crosses his arms, backing Will up. “Oh, this isn’t a discussion. The rules are nonnegotiable.”
Will’s gaze locks on to mine. “Rule number one: You stay with us the entire time. No wandering off, no going anywhere alone. Got it?”
I nod, trying to ignore the warm flutter in my chest at how seriously they’re taking this. On one hand, I feel like a little kid being told not to run with scissors. On the other hand, this overprotective dominant thing they’re doing is turning me on.
“Got it,” I say.
“Rule number two,” Beckett says. “If you start feeling weird—like, at all—you tell us immediately. Doesn’t matter if you think it’s nothing, you say something.”
I roll my eyes but can’t stop the smile that surfaces.
“Say it,” he insists, leaving no room for teasing.
I bite my lip to suppress a laugh. “If I start feeling weird, I’ll tell you guys immediately. I promise.”
He gives a satisfied nod.
“Rule number three,” Will says. “Hydration. You drink plenty of water, and I mean it. No getting dehydrated on us. Steady sips, no chugging.”
“Plenty of water, steady sips. Got it,” I answer, fighting to keep a straight face. It feels like we’re prepping for a big exam instead of a night of dancing and letting loose.
“Rule number four: No sex.”
My mouth falls open at that one. “What?”
“No sex,” he repeats, and Beckett nods in agreement.
I blink at them, caught off guard. “But…I heard ecstasy is supposed to make you really…”
“Horny,” Beckett finishes, chuckling. “Yeah, it does. And that’s exactly why neither of us is laying a finger on you tonight. I don’t care how much you say you want it or how much you beg. Right, Larsen?”
“Damn right.”
I pout, but along with my disappointment, I also feel a strange kind of respect.
Will steps closer, gripping my chin as he tilts my face up to meet his eyes. His thumb skims my lower lip, sending a jolt of desire through me.
“Baby.” His voice drops low, almost a growl. “We’re not fucking you while you’re on drugs. Understood? That kind of consent line is way too blurry for me. For us.” He glances at Beckett, who offers another firm nod.
“We promised we’d take care of you,” Beckett says gruffly. “That means not taking advantage of you in that state.”
“No sex.” Will’s eyes search mine to make sure I understand. “That’s final.”
I let out a small breath, realizing how much these guys mean to me. They’re not just here for the fun of it—they’re looking out for me. And that makes my heart swell with emotion.
“Last rule,” Will says. “You listen to us. If we say it’s time to go, we go. No arguing, no ‘just one more song.’ Got it?”
I lick my lips, noticing how they both track the movement of my tongue. “You two are so fucking hot right now.”
Beckett narrows his eyes at me, clearly trying to keep a straight face too. “We’re serious. We’re not playing around.”
“I know,” I say, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “And I love that you guys care so much.”
Beckett opens his fist and holds the baggie out to me. “You still want to do this?”
I nod, warmth flooding my chest as I accept the bag from him and fish out the tiny pill. Before I pop it into my mouth, I glance at the boys, my throat tightening.
“Thank you,” I say softly. “For looking out for me.”
“Always.” Will’s voice is a low rumble.
“Now take it before we change our minds,” Beckett says with a grin.
I grin back, then place the pill on my tongue and swallow it with a gulp of water from the bottle Will passes me.
No matter what happens tonight, I know they’ll take care of me.