Chapter 19 Nix
Nix
No matter how long Nix has been away from the bright Florida sun, he never misses it more than December through March in Nashville.
Foggy mornings can be beautiful, but they chilled him to the bone.
No matter how many fires they lit in the family room or how many pairs of knit wool socks Frankie knitted for him, he couldn’t escape it.
Two weeks into December, and the weather was already brutal, damp, and gray.
It might even snow, according to the meteorologist.
He imagined it wasn’t just the weather, because, like Scrooge, Nix was visited by ghosts of Christmases past. His mother’s voice, soft under the clatter of spoons in the kitchen.
His sister on the floor, tongue between her teeth, scribbling an arm-long Christmas list in candy-cane pen.
And his dad, singing the Twelve Days of Christmas, off-key until the fifth day—then booming out five golden rings like he’d waited all year to sing that one line.
Harder still might be the years he’d missed with his pack—like last year, when Gideon gifted everyone dildos at the Costases family Christmas, and Lauren choked so hard she blew eggnog out her nose. He knows now that they missed him with an ache that they thought might never go away.
Even the towering pine Leo and Jamie dragged in from the back of the property, still dusted in frost and heavy with pine cones, couldn’t conjure that flicker of childhood wonder.
Grayson had turned the top half into a vision straight out of a magazine, Rowan the bottom into what could generously be called maximalist chaos, but not even that could thaw some niggling chill in the pit of Nix’s stomach.
He wishes he knew why. He’s doing the work. He’s trying. But he’s still more Grinch than Cindy-Lou.
Since Thanksgiving, he’d promised himself—and his therapist—that he’d try to make some new traditions, and mostly, it was working.
After a restless morning, he’d finally decided on a long nap and a hot bath with Finn, who had warmed him in the best way, after which he’d dressed in layer upon layer of Jamie’s clothing.
So much so that he looked like Joey from Friends—yes, he was going commando in another man’s pants—but still, he could not shake the chill.
Tsuki follows him from Jay’s room. “Come on, girl, what we need is to be on the bottom of a puppy pile with someone hot and burly on top—maybe several someones.”
When she declines, padding back into Finn’s room across the hall, Nix shrugs, snarking quietly under his breath about ungrateful snuggle-buddies and missing out.
Everyone but Finn and Gideon is cuddled in bunches listening to Tom Hanks’ voice ask to punch someone’s ticket for the Polar Express. The film is a non-negotiable, almost daily tradition in the Rhodes pack.
A clash from the kitchen followed by a curse signals that Gideon must have arrived back from where he’s been hiding these past few nights.
The noise is followed by a melodious rendition of that loathsome Mariah Carey song where the occasional youuuuuuuuu is belted out at the top of his lungs.
Hopefully, he’s making hot, hot chocolate.
Sighing, Nix watches from the threshold, half-longing to melt into the warmth, half-wanting to avoid questions about his mood.
Spotting a perfect, irresistible cuddle spot between Jamie and Luca—who is damn cute in a fleecy squirrel-themed onesie, complete with feet and a hood—Nix aims to slip between them.
“Hey, Baby. Did Finn warm you up?” Luca says, waggling his eyebrows and opening his arms.
Jamie chuckles as he makes a slice of room between them. “Nix, are you wearing my entire closet?”
“What gave it away? Is it all the black?” Nix gripes, flopping down and letting Jamie’s arms pull him close. The introspection has done nothing to improve his mood despite the glow from two impeccable toppy-Finn orgasms.
“Meow.” Rowan’s self-preservation instincts must be at a low because he adds a sassy hand-claw. Then again, he also digs out a granola bar from his cargo pocket and lobs it over like an apology.
Leo rises with a theatrical groan, cracking his neck. “Okay, okay. I’ll start a fire. That should warm you up in no time.” He never could resist a chance to flex his Boy Scout mastery.
Grayson groans at the mention. Already down to a tank and shorts—the former of which shows off his extremely nice arm muscles—when he leans over for a kiss, Nix has an eyeful of a lean eight-pack. “It’s okay, Gray’s already sweating. I’ll survive.”
“Look, if you’re cold, then we make a fire. I can go stand outside and cool off if I need to.”
“Or better yet, Grayson can just go naked. Not like anyone will complain,” Gideon adds with a smirk. He tosses Grayson an ice-cold bottle of water before putting a tray holding eight mugs of hot chocolate—complete with whipped cream and red and green sprinkles—on the coffee table/sex bench.
Without a word, Rowan theatrically mimes zipping his lips and throwing the imaginary key away.
Tragically, Grayson does not strip down. He just takes his cocoa and gulps down the burning hot liquid, licking away the last bit of whipped cream with a wink and a smirk.
“Did you wear Finn out?” Jamie whispers in his ear, soft lips sending heat down his spine. If he keeps it up, Nix could shed one of these infernal layers of black hoodies and sweats. “Should I go up, see for myself? Make sure he’s alright?”
The faint scrape of claws on hardwood precedes Tsuki’s entrance, her nose lifted like she’s hunting whipped cream. Behind her, Finn emerges barefoot, a new blue sweater tugged on over his broad chest, cheeks pink from heat or something better.
Nix can’t help it—the glow of being the cause of that smile flares in his chest. He blows him a kiss before he can overthink it.
Finn grabs it out of the air and puts it in the pocket of his navy pants.
Jamie nods at the red box tucked under Finn’s arm. “Whatcha got there?”
The metal guard over the fireplace clangs as Leo sets the blaze alight and pokes the smaller pieces of kindling into a tight formation under the logs.
Tsuki crowds in behind Leo as he crouches in front of the fire.
She gives a huge sigh as the heat warms her flank, and her eyes slide closed, like now that all her people are in one place, she can finally nap.
Finn’s voice is soft and careful, “It’s for Secret Santa. Nix and I were talking earlier—”
“That hickey doesn’t look like it came from too much talking,” Luca mumbles through a mouth full of chocolate croissant. Now standing in front of the fire, Luca’s bare ass peeks out through the open butt-flap of his squirrel onesie.
Nix short-circuits. Because yep, that’s a tail. Tucked neatly between those golden cheeks.
Wait. What did he say? It’s only then that Nix hears what Finn said.
Embarrassment and dread drop like a stone in his belly, and he sends an angry Finn! in warning along their mental bond.
Out loud, he says, “Please don’t.” He says, recognizing right away that this is what has put him off since he’d climbed from Finn’s bed and tried to cover himself in the armor of Jamie’s closet.
What made him squish in tight between him and Luca.
And what—in part—made him unable to get rid of what he was sure was the weather-related chill.
“It’s going to be okay, Nix. Trust me. Look, every year we buy each other gifts for Christmas. Big, extravagant things. But this year, I thought maybe we could do something different.”
“But I like big extravagant things,” Leo insists, rifling for his phone like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat.
“I was literally just thinking about it—look!” He turns the screen.
A sleek black SUV gleams back at them, the kind with heated seats and a sound system that could make angels weep. “Finn’s getting his license, and…”
Leo exhales, almost imperceptibly, and reaches for Tsuki without thinking—his hand sliding into the thick fur, looking for comfort.
For a moment, Finn falters, stunned by the thought of what Leo must’ve planned—leather seats, custom plate, the works.
But then he sees the soft pink flush blooming over Nix’s cheekbones like guilt, and just like that, his resolve hardens.
“Uh…thank you for thinking of me. I would have liked that. But, we need to lead more with our hearts and less with our wallets.”
“I like it,” Grayson says, grabbing a second mug off the table and drinking that one, too. “We can make something.”
“Easy for you to say, Pretty. Not all of us have Santa’s art studio filled with blown glass masterpieces and living color portraits in oil,” Leo grumbles.
Finn runs a hand over the top of Leo’s head with a grin. “You’ll think of something—you always do. You give the best gifts.” He lifts the box and gives it a dramatic shake. “Rule one: you have to make it. Rule two: do your best to keep it a secret. Mystery’s half the fun.”
Jamie leans in so he can breathe softly into Nix’s ear, “You okay with this, Nix?”
No, Nix is not okay.
Nix should be basking in Rhodes Pack traditions, soaking in their rituals like sunshine, not forcing them into new ones that no one was ready for—or, judging by Leo’s face, didn’t even want.
And then there’s the hot coil of embarrassment twisting low in his gut.
Of course, they’ve figured it out—why they’re making gifts this year instead of buying them.
They must realize why they’re making things and not spending money.
The whole thing had started some time after he was lying satisfied in the bath, Finn’s hands soothing and sending shivers all over Nix’s soapy skin, when he’d asked, What do you want for Christmas, baby?
Nix had frozen—not from distraction (though Finn’s mouth had been really close to his dick), but because he couldn’t name a single thing. They all made sure he had what he needed—more than. Nix’s life is full to overflowing, and any ache he felt was from something that couldn’t be wrapped.
Besides, he couldn’t afford to buy anyone anything in return. Nix had felt the usual surge of shame, but Finn hadn’t swept it under the rug. Instead, he’d said they should all rethink the idea of giving extravagant gifts, and made it sound easy.
But glancing at Leo’s bowed head told a different story. This wasn’t easy at all.
“If it’s okay with everyone else, it’s okay with me,” Nix hedges.
A lightning-fast frown crosses over Jamie’s face before he says, “I think it’s a good idea, too. Who picks first?”
“It’s the youngest first. Why do you persist in asking every time?” Rowan ponders, holding his hand out for the box. He lifts the lid and pulls out a small slip of white paper. His eyes go wide at his choice, but he smiles and offers the box to Nix. “You next.”
Jamie gives his butt a heave-up so Nix can grasp the small box.
There are still seven slips in the box. He gets a hold of one, and when he pulls it out, he’s not surprised to see whose name is on it. The name is one only he uses—as if Finn had known that this slip of paper would be the one Nix chose from the box.
“Ooh, did you choose me, baby?” Luca asks, reaching for the box and pulling his slip out. “Yes!” He giggles before slipping the paper into a tiny pocket on the front of the onesie.
Nix’s heart thaws at Luca’s unfiltered joy. “I can’t tell you!” Nix says even though he and Luca share everything. This needs to be a surprise.
Gideon goes next, and he blinks, blinks, blinks at the name, like staring at it will change the letters on the paper. But his ears go red and when he finally tucks it into his shirt pocket, there’s a small satisfied smile on his handsome face too.
Grayson chooses next and then looks like the cat who got the cream.
Finn blushes at his choice, while Jamie looks damp-eyed. Nix can’t tell if it’s happy tears or oh-fuck-me tears.
Finally, Leo takes the last slip from the box. He’s still being a grump about not being able to buy things, and after looking at his slip, he tosses it into the fire. Nix’s belly swoops at the thought that Leo might be mad at him.
“Finn, are there limits on what I can spend?” Rowan asks. “Can I have help?”
“As long as you make it yourself, there is no limit on spending. You can phone a friend—but only one.”
Good thing, too, because Nix knows exactly who he’s going to ask—and just like that, something inside him begins to thaw.