Chapter 16 Allison
Tate asks Old Man Henderson down the street for some dog food. He comes back smelling faintly of smoke.
With Rambo fed, we can finally get onto the presents.
I’m not sure when he had the time to make it, but Tate presses a cup of chamomile tea into my hands. Our fingers brush, his calloused skin against my soft knuckles. Our eyes meet and he settles next to me on the couch again. His thigh presses against mine. I don’t move away.
I glance at him to find he’s already looking down at me. I quickly avert my gaze back to the boys pulling boxes from under the tree.
The boys jump up and down when they open the video games I drove all over town for. Tate gives me a heartwarming smile when he realizes Matty got one from me too.
“Matty and I got you something too, Hudson.” Tate says.
Hudson beams.
Matty pulls the tall, skinny present from the corner of the room. He presents it to Hudson who can hardly contain his excitement. I find myself leaning forward curiously.
Hudson wastes no time tearing it open. It’s a camo fishing pole and tackle box.
His smile falters for a minute and I know he’s thinking of the cancelled trip with TJ.
“Oh, uh. Thank you.” He tries to stay polite, even as his cheeks tinge pink. My heart breaks for him. Looks like I’ll be learning to fish. I’ve never been but how hard can it be?
But then Tate goes and surprises me, once again.
“I hope you wouldn’t mind showing us around some of the fishing holes around here.” Tate says gently. “Maybe when I get back from the series?”
Hudson launches into his arms, hugging him tight. Tate catches him easily. He squeezes him back, a hand on the back of his head. Matty grins, watching the interaction.
“Merry Christmas.” He says softly, patting Hudson on the back. “We’ll have to take Rambo too. I bet he’ll love the water.”
Hudson lets him go. He nods and sniffles. Matty gives Hudson a hug too.
“We catch the biggest fish. I bet you’ll get the biggest one with that pole though.”
Tate wipes away a tear from my cheek. One I didn’t know had fallen.
“I got something for you, too,” He whispers, breath tickling my ear. I shiver.
“I hope it’s like my birthday present the other morning.” I give him a sly smirk. His mouth drops open.
“That was your birthday? I-I’m sorry. I had no idea. Jeez. I asked you to plan the team thing on your birthday.” Tate runs a hand through his hair, the tattoo on his bicep peeking out of his shirt sleeve.
“Tate,” I place a hand there. “It’s okay. Really. It was a great gift. Amazing even.”
“Amazing, huh?” He smirks
“For a man,” I shrug noncommittally.
Instead of answering, he pulls out a small velvet jewelry box. Inside is a dainty blue stone butterfly. Just like the one Tate has tattooed. On his ass.
I cackle. Not even in a cute way.
“Oh… my… God!” I say between my laughter. “I-I… absolutely love it.”
“Thank fuck,” Tate exhales. “It was a little risky, I’ll admit.”
“Yeah, giving me a necklace that matches your tramp stamp? A little risky, I’d say.” My laughter simmering into giggles. “You know I’m gonna show this to everyone. Even Ronan.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m not ashamed, I like my butterfly.” He says pulling it from the box before adding, “And it’s not a tramp stamp.”
“Whatever you say,” I sing-song.
“It’s not. It’s too low on my ass cheek.” He chuckles.
“You ever gonna tell me the story behind that?”
“Maybe.” I sneak a glance at him. He’s smirking. He uses his finger to make a twirling motion. I shift so my back is to him. My breath catches when his calloused fingers dance gently over my skin to push my hair away from my neck.
I scoot to the edge to allow him to put it on me. Maybe it's a little intentional that the movement puts me closer to him. My heart rate picks up, pitter pattering in my chest.
His fingertips tease my neck as he clasps the jewelry.
“There.” He says softly. His hands cup my hair and place it back behind my shoulders. He’s not looking at the necklace when he says, “Beautiful.”
My cheeks flush.
I gingerly touch the necklace sitting just above my collarbone with my fingertips.
“Thank you.” I whisper. He leans back on the cushions. His arm stretched along the back of the couch this time.
I only consider it for a moment before I settle there into his side.
As I watch the boys show each other their gifts and chat enthusiastically, my heart aches.
How do I tell Hudson that his father is having another baby? I don’t even know if Hudson will get to be a part of its life.
“Aw, Rambo! Again?” Hudson groans.