Chapter 18
brOOKS
I t’s not even a little surprising that when my mother throws open the door to greet us on Christmas Eve, she rushes to hug my girlfriend first.
“Oh, you’re such a darling.” Mom beams as she takes the foil-covered casserole dish from Delta. “Did you style your hair differently? I love it! Robert! They’re here! Look how lovely Delta looks!”
“Hello, Mom. Where is everyone?” I lean down to kiss her cheek as she ushers us into the warm entryway, which is so crammed in Christmas decorations it’s faintly ridiculous. Everything in the house is now either blinking, pine-scented, or bedecked in red and white stripes.
I have a headache already.
Delta—who is still an easy, inexperienced target for Mom’s guilt trips—was convinced how special it would be if everyone spent the night at my childhood home on Christmas Eve and opened gifts together first thing in the morning, so I’m laden with an overnight bag, two bags of gifts, and the three dog’s leashes.
“Oh, you know your brother. He’s always late.
Phoebe and the boys will be here shortly, though.
They’re just finishing a late lunch with Josh’s family.
” She wipes her hands on her Santa’s Helper apron before stooping to pet the dogs who are wearing matching green sweaters.
“I’m just going to pop the ham in the oven.
I’ll let you two get settled up in your old room, Brooks. ”
I lead the way upstairs, showing Delta where the bathroom is on the landing, before opening the attic door with a sheepish grin.
Elliot and I shared a bedroom for years, but a particularly bad fight about dirty socks—actual blood was spilled—when I was twelve led to me moving all my stuff to the completely unfinished attic.
Our parents, exhausted by the fighting and trying to force their polar opposite sons to share a small space, had the room insulated for the sake of everyone’s sanity.
I stayed up here until I went to college.
Delta steps into the room ahead of me, her eyes roaming over the periodic table poster above the bed and models of molecules on every flat surface. “Admit it, you’re intimidated.” I chuckle, wrapping my arms around her from behind and bowing to nip at her jaw. “I was incredibly cool. Obviously.”
Delta giggles, turning in my arms to kiss me sweetly.
She’s been understandably out of sorts since the reporter’s visit, but woke up today determined to set it aside.
“I like it,” she declares when she pulls away, moving further into the room.
“Yet another piece of the Brooks Harrison origin story.”
“Yes, this one is entitled ‘lonely nerd who lost his virginity at twenty-two’.” My heart seems to have lodged in my throat as she nudges the air mattress my mother not-so-subtly made up beside my old twin-sized bed, smirking over her shoulder at me .
“Should we mess up the sheets on it so she thinks I slept here?”
She’s so fucking cute.
“Absolutely.” Unable to stop touching her for even a minute, I follow her to the side of the bed, weaving my fingers through her soft hair to pull her into another long, playful kiss that turns heated in seconds.
Delta whimpers, and I back her toward my childhood bed, my cock almost instantly rock hard and ready for her.
“I can’t get enough of you,” I groan, teasing her breasts through her sweater. “You taste so good, baby.”
We sway on the spot, making out, and I’m about to reach for the button of her jeans when there’s an unmistakable commotion downstairs. Phoebe is here with the boys.
Cursing quietly, I let my head drop back, feeling the soft vibrations of her quiet laugh against me. “For the record,” Delta kisses my throat, the highest part of me she can reach without my cooperation. “I can’t get enough of you either.”
I know she can’t, and it turns me on to no end—she was made for me. “Come on.” I lace my fingers through hers and tug her toward the stairs. “Let’s get this over with.”
It’s the best Christmas I’ve ever had, without question.
There’s nothing technically different about it, we do all the usual family traditions, and yet it’s a special kind of magic, having a partner to share it with.
Had I been lonely before her? I can’t remember.
I couldn’t have dated, though, or tried to find anyone else because—as hard as my empirical side tries to poke holes in the logic of this—it was always supposed to be Delta.
I love having someone to fix a plate for at dinner, leaving out the green beans because she hates them, and how she kisses me gently in thanks in front of everyone.
I love the way she curls up next to me on the couch, her fuzzy-sock clad feet in my lap as we watch a cartoon Christmas movie with the boys.
I love seeing her playfully nudge my mother out of the way of the kitchen sink, rolling up her sleeves to do the washing up, and how I get to stand next to her drying the plates she hands me.
I love how casually my sister mentions hosting Easter at her house and asks Delta if she could come early to help with the cooking, with no unspoken question of whether she’ll still be in my life then.
Yeah, it was always supposed to be Delta.
“I’m going to head up,” she murmurs in my ear at the end of the night when everyone has simmered down, slipping her arms around me from behind. I’m sitting at the kitchen table, doing one last puzzle with a bleary-eyed Beau.
When I turn my head, searching, and she rewards me with a gentle kiss. “I’ll be up soon,” I promise, chest expanding as I watch her wish everyone a goodnight, slipping off toward the stairs.
“Oh, Brooks.” The moment we hear the attic door close, Mom beams at me, her eyes shining. “We’re all so happy for you.”
“I know, right?” Phoebe yawns from her place in the armchair beside the fireplace. “Not to brag, but he couldn’t have done it without me. I’m his wing woman.”
Eli snorts, swirling his drink with a candy cane. “So, have you bought a ring yet, brother?”
“They’ve been together less than a month.” Phoebe squawks in alarm, then, after a moment of consideration, “Though, that would be so romantic .”
Mom gasps. “I still have your Grandma Phylis’s engagement ring, Brooks! I suppose you’ll want to get her something a little fancier?—”
“Leave him alone,” Dad huffs, the lone voice of reason. “He’ll do it in his own time.”
Everyone ignores him.
“She’s going to be pregnant next year, I’m calling it. Oh my gosh, their kids are going to be so cute. His hair and her eyes? Smart and athletic?”
Mom titters. “You kept the boys’ baby things, didn’t you? We’ll have to go through it.”
They don’t need me for this discussion.
Nobody cares as I slide the last puzzle piece over to Beau and rise from the table and head for the stairs, filled with fond exasperation for all of them. They’re excited, and I can’t fault them for it. I’m excited too.
The attic is warm and quiet when I close the door behind me, lit only by the soft light of my old moon globe, which casts gentle shadows over the familiar room.
Delta is already dressed in her pair of matching candy cane Christmas pajamas that Mom bought everyone, sitting at the edge of the bed with a magazine in her hands.
“I hope you have no plans on leaving me because they’re still going to expect you at all family events regardless of our relationship status,” I inform her dryly, unbuttoning my shirt.
Delta smirks. “Nope, I think I’ll keep you, but this ,” she holds up the magazine, “is very shocking, Doctor Harrison.”
I squint, and when I make out the cover of what she’s holding, my stomach drops. “ Where did you find that? ” I cross the room to snatch it away from her, my face heating with embarrassment.
I haven’t seen this in at least twenty years, though I recognize it immediately for the sole reason that I jerked off to the woman on those faded pages about five times a day during my early teen years. Before I convinced my parents to let me have a computer in my room, anyway.
Leaning back on her elbows, Delta laughs. “I was looking for another pillow. Imagine my surprise when I pulled one down from the closet and your adolescent spank bank hit me in the face.”
“I’m only grateful it was you and not my mother.” I shudder at the thought and move to toss it in the trash, but Delta calls after me.
“It looks like page six was your favorite.” Pausing, and curious despite myself, I flip it open.
I’d folded the pages before six back so many times they’re nearly falling out, and I instantly remember why.
The woman in the faded picture is sprawled out across black satin sheets, her hands tied together above her head, and her legs spread wide with each ankle bound by an artfully knotted rope.
She’s not wearing a stitch of clothing, and I remember all the air going out of me when I saw it for the first time.
My body warms when I glance over my shoulder and find that Delta’s eyes are still fixed on me.
She’s lounging back on my adolescent bed, hair loose and tumbling messily around her shoulders. The hollow between her breasts is visible between the garish printed flannel. This situation shouldn’t be sexy, but my body heats anyway.
“She kind of looks like me.” Delta’s voice has gone breathy and soft. I see her breath catch as I drop the magazine into the trash bin and stroll back to her, my footsteps muffled on the wide beam floors. “Am I your type, Doctor Harrison?”
The familiar, heady thrill of control fills me, and I let my head fall to the side, studying her.
I had no plans of fucking her tonight, the Harrison family Christmas celebration was engrained in my memory as a thoroughly exhausting affair, and I anticipated escaping up here much sooner to refresh the headache medicine and sleep. This is a welcome change of pace.
I smirk. “Take your clothes off for me, baby. Let me check.”