Chapter 13 Carina #2
His lips are soft against mine, tentative at first like he's afraid I might disappear.
When I don't pull away, his hand comes up to cup my face, thumb brushing over my cheekbone with a tenderness that makes me melt.
This is Knox without his usual bravado—just a man who's been starved for real connection, finding it in the most unexpected place.
"Knox," I breathe against his mouth, and he makes a sound that's almost broken.
"You don't understand," he whispers, resting his forehead against mine. "We haven't felt like a family in so long. And then you show up and suddenly we're decorating trees and baking cookies and acting like... like we matter to each other again."
I pull back enough to see his eyes, bright with unshed emotion. "You've always mattered to each other. You just forgot how to show it."
"Maybe." He kisses me again, deeper this time, like he's trying to pour all his gratitude and confusion and hope into the connection. His hands tangle in my hair, and I can taste the cider on his tongue, sweet with cinnamon and brandy.
When he pulls me closer, I forget about the cookies in the oven, forget about William's disapproval and Travis's knowing looks. There's just this: Knox's heart beating against mine, his soft groan when I nip at his lower lip, the way he holds me like I'm precious and powerful all at once.
Which is why neither of us notices the burning smell until the smoke alarm starts shrieking.
"Shit!" Knox yanks open the oven, smoke billowing out. The cookies are black, completely charred.
William appears in the doorway like an avenging angel. "What the hell—"
"Minor cooking incident," Knox says, waving a towel at the smoke detector.
"Minor? The entire house smells like burnt—" William stops, taking in our disheveled appearance. My hair is messed up, Knox's shirt untucked. It's obvious what distracted us. "Seriously?"
"We got distracted," I admit, face burning.
"Distracted." William's voice is deadly calm. "While operating an oven. Do you have any idea how dangerous—"
"Will, calm down," Travis appears with a ladder, already reaching for the smoke detector. "No harm done."
"No harm? They could have burned down the house!"
"With cookies?" Knox laughs. "Come on, even I'm not that talented."
"This isn't funny. When you're baking, you focus on baking. You don't—" William gestures between Knox and me, "—whatever this was."
"It was kissing," Knox supplies helpfully. "Would you like a diagram?"
"Knox," I warn, but the damage is done.
William's face goes carefully blank. "I see. Well. Don't let me interrupt your... activities. I'll be in my office."
He storms out, leaving awkward silence in his wake.
"Smooth," Travis says, finally silencing the alarm. "Really smooth, guys."
"He's being ridiculous," Knox mutters, but he looks guilty.
Travis climbs down, surveying the burnt cookies with amusement. "You know, in some cultures, charcoal is considered a delicacy."
"In what culture?" I demand.
"The culture of Knox's baking." He grins. "Remember the pasta incident of '18?"
"That was one time!" Knox retorts.
"You boiled it so long it turned to glue."
"I was distracted!"
"By what?"
"Art!"
They bicker good-naturedly while I clean up the cookie disaster, but my mind is on William. The way his face went blank when he realized Knox and I had been kissing.
"I should talk to him," I say.
"Leave him," Travis advises. "He needs to sulk first. It's part of his process."
But I can't leave it. Not when we're supposed to be making better memories.
I find William in his office, staring at his laptop without really seeing it.
"Hey," I say softly.
He doesn't look up. "If you're here to apologize, don't. You're adults. What you do is your business."
"William—"
"I just ask that you maintain basic safety standards. Is that too much?"
I move closer, perching on the edge of his desk. He still won't look at me. "The cookies were stupid. We got carried away."
"Knox always gets carried away. It's what he does." Finally, those gray eyes meet mine. "And you enable him."
"Maybe he enables me," I counter. "Maybe I like getting carried away sometimes. Maybe I spent so many years being careful that now I just want to be reckless."
Something flashes in his eyes. "Reckless?"
"Not dangerous reckless. Just... free." I touch his hand where it rests on the desk. "You could try it sometime."
He stares at where we're connected, and I can practically see the war inside him. Want versus control. Desire versus fear.
"I don't do reckless," he says finally.
"I know." I squeeze his hand. "But maybe you could try spontaneous? Just for today?"
He's quiet for so long I think he'll refuse. Eventually, he speaks up. "What did you have in mind?"
"Come finish the tree with us. No measuring tape, no color coding. Just... be with us."
"Carina..."
"Please? It's Christmas. Or almost. And we're making new memories, remember?"
He looks at me for a long moment, then sighs. "Fine. But if Knox sets anything else on fire—"
"I'll personally put him in a snowbank."
"Deal."
We head back to find Knox and Travis have made progress on the tree. It's looking less organized than William probably wants but more alive somehow. Real.
"Will!" Knox brightens. "Come to criticize ornament placement?"
"Actually," William picks up a random ornament—a silver snowflake—and hangs it right in the middle of Knox's 'artistic' section. "I came to help."
Knox's mouth drops open. Travis nearly drops his cider. I try not to smile too widely.
We finish decorating in relative peace. William only reorganizes things twice. Knox only breaks one ornament—accidentally. Travis keeps the cider flowing and the music carefully curated—nothing too traditional, nothing that might trigger memories.
When we're done, we step back to admire our work. It's not perfect—there are gaps where William insisted on proper spacing and clusters where Knox rebelled. But it's something we all did together, and I think that's pretty cool.
"It's beautiful," I say.
"It's kind of a mess," William corrects, but he's almost smiling.
"It's both," Travis the peacemaker declares. "Like us."
Knox throws an arm around my shoulders. "You know what this tree needs? Presents underneath."
We all turn to see snow falling heavily outside, big fat flakes that are already covering the ground.
"Fresh snow," Knox says reverently. "You know what that means?"
"Absolutely not," William says.
But Knox is already heading for the door. "Snowball fight!"
"Knox, we're adults—"
The rest of William's argument is cut off by Knox pelting him with snow the moment we're outside. It's a direct hit to the shoulder, snow exploding everywhere.
"You little—" William bends down, packing his own snowball with deadly efficiency.
"Oh shit." Knox takes off running. "Carina, save me!"
"Save yourself!" I'm already forming my own ammunition.
What follows is a twenty minute battle. Knox and I team up against William until Travis joins William's side to even things out. Then it's every person for themselves, alliances shifting as quickly as the snow flies.
William, unsurprisingly, has deadly aim and a strategic mind. He uses the cars as cover, calculating angles like he's planning a military campaign. Knox goes for volume over accuracy, throwing as fast as he can form snowballs. Travis is sneaky, appearing where you least expect him.
And me? I'm just happy, laughing so hard I can barely breathe as we chase each other around the yard like children.
"Gotcha!" William emerges from behind a tree, snowball raised.
I shriek, trying to dodge, but slip on the snow. He catches me before I fall, momentum carrying us both down into a snowbank. For a moment we're tangled together, his body over mine, both breathing hard.
"Hi," I whisper.
"Hi," he responds, and something in his expression makes my heart race.
Then Knox dumps an armload of snow on both of us.
"Victory!" he shouts, dancing away as William surges up with murder in his eyes.
"You're dead, baby brother!"
They chase each other like kids while Travis helps me up, both of us laughing at their antics. By the time we call a truce, we're all soaked and freezing but exhilarated.
"Inside," William orders, but he's grinning. Actually grinning. "Before we all get pneumonia."
We troop in, leaving puddles everywhere. Knox immediately heads for the shower while Travis makes more cider. William and I end up by the fire, wrapped in blankets.
"Thank you," he says quietly.
"For what?"
"Today. The tree, the snowball fight. Making us act like a family instead of business partners."
"You are a family."
"A fucked up one."
"All the best families are." I lean into him slightly. "You know what? I think we made some good memories today."
He's quiet, staring at the tree with its imperfect decorations and chaotic beauty. "Yeah," he says finally. "I think we did."
Knox returns, hair damp, wearing ridiculous Christmas pajamas. "Movie time! I vote Die Hard."
"That's not a Christmas movie," William says automatically.
"It happens at Christmas!"
"That doesn't make it—"
"Boys," I interrupt. "How about we compromise? Love Actually?"
"That's a terrible movie," William protests.
"It's romantic!" Knox argues.
"It's sentimental garbage."
"You're sentimental garbage."
Travis and I exchange looks as they bicker. Some things never change. But as I sit here, warm and safe between these complicated men, watching our imperfect tree twinkle in the firelight, I realize something.
We're healing. Slowly, messily, with burnt cookies and snowball fights and too many arguments about ornament placement. But we're healing.
And maybe that's what Christmas is really about. Not perfect trees or professional decorators. Just... this. Being together. Making new memories to overlay the old ones.
"You're smiling," Travis observes.
"Just thinking."
"About?"
"How lucky I am."
Knox overhears and bounds over, pulling me into a hug. "We're the lucky ones. Before you, we just existed through holidays. Now we're actually living them."
William doesn't say anything, but his hand finds mine under the blanket, squeezing gently.
Yeah. We're definitely making new memories.
The best kind of memories.