Chapter Twenty
Micah woke up to find a warm body snuggled against him, and it was heaven.
About as heavenly as the memories of the two of them, making love.
He could still recall the expression of awe and sheer pleasure on Greg’s face as he came.
His disgruntled comments about the speed of it all had been comical.
Micah wouldn’t have changed one second of it. Those intimate moments had been like nothing he’d ever experienced, and he could only think of one thing to account for that.
This is what it must feel like to make love, not just have sex. To have the heart engaged, as well as the body.
Then it hit him. He’d spent the night in Greg’s room, and that was bound to be noticed. Dad was a creature of habit, after all.
Micah listened intently. From the kitchen came faint voices, and the unmistakable aroma of roasting turkey that seeped under the closed door.
It was official. They were in trouble.
He nudged Greg gently. “Hey, sleepyhead.”
Greg shifted, soft noises escaping as he reached for Micah. “Hey. Morning.”
“Never mind morning. It’s gone nine o’clock already.”
Greg’s eyes popped open. “What?”
Micah nodded. “They’ve already got the turkey in the oven.” Naomi was never going to let him forget this. And as for Dad? It was bad enough he’d caught them in the bathroom together.
Greg sat up slowly. “I slept like a log. It was wonderful.” Then he clammed up when someone knocked on the door.
“Boys?” Dad coughed. “There are two mugs of coffee out here on the hall table. Whenever you’re ready.”
“What do you mean, whenever they’re ready?
” Naomi called out from the kitchen. “We’re sitting around here, waiting for those two so we can—” Seconds later there was a loud rap on the door.
“Get your butts out here. I am not doing this all by myself, because do you really want Dad cooking? And there are presents to be opened, for God’s sake!
” Loud snorts and mutterings grew quieter as she stomped off down the hall.
Dad cleared his throat. “What she said.” Then there was silence.
Micah glanced at Greg, who promptly burst out laughing. “Well, that’s us told.” He bit his lip and wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know about you, but I really need a shower.”
Micah nodded. “You go shower. I’ll go upstairs—after I’ve calmed the storm out there.” Before he could climb out of bed, Greg laid a gentle hand on his arm.
“In case I forget to tell you? Last night was… awesome. Every single minute of it. And that includes falling asleep with you.”
Naomi be damned. Micah pushed Greg’s tousled hair away from his face, leaned in, and kissed him, a chaste, sweet kiss that was more ‘you-are-adorable’ than ‘let’s-do-it-all-again.’ “You felt amazing. And I loved curling up with you.”
Greg’s face flushed. “And if you need anything today, just ask, all right?”
Micah kissed his cheek, then got out of bed. He pulled on his robe, and cautiously opened the door. There was no one in sight. Micah turned and smiled at Greg. “The coast is clear.”
Greg chuckled. “Don’t forget your coffee.”
Micah closed the door and stepped into the hallway. It wasn’t until he was at the kitchen door, a mug in his hand, that the significance of Greg’s words struck him.
Mom. And I’d forgotten. Then he realized something.
The pain and grief that had numbed him the previous Christmas was still present, but robbed of its intensity somehow.
It’s true. Time is a great healer. Only, Micah knew it was more than that.
He would always have his memories, but now he wanted to make new ones—with Greg.
And how long will it be before he leaves?
Just like that, Micah’s newfound peace deserted him.
He entered the kitchen, his heart heavy. Dad was cracking eggs into a bowl. He glanced up as Micah approached. “Well, good morning.” Another glance, this time to the wall clock. “Yep, it’s still morning.”
“Merry Christmas to you too, Dad.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Dad snickered and went back to his eggs. Across the table from him, still dressed in her red pajamas, Naomi glared.
“And where’s the other one?”
“Having a shower.” Micah knew exactly what was going on. Naomi was simply swapping her grief for another strong emotion, and feigned anger would do just as well. He met her gaze and nodded once, just to let her know he was on to her. “Merry Christmas, sis.”
Naomi got up from her chair, walked over to him, and hugged him tightly. “Right back atcha,” she whispered. Naomi released him and stepped back, coughing. “Dad decided to make breakfast this morning. Be afraid. Be very afraid.”
Dad brandished his fork. “Remarks like that will result in certain people being put on vegetable preparation duty, and that may even include doing the dishes.”
Naomi smiled sweetly. “That’s what we have a dishwasher for.”
Dad’s smile was equally sweet. “And your father is very handy with a wrench. Bear that in mind. Appliances have been known to break down when you least expect it.” He chuckled when Naomi gasped, and winked at Micah.
“That shut her up.” He laid his fork on the countertop.
“I’ll wait until Greg’s out of the shower before I start cooking.
Call me when you’re ready to eat.” And with that, he left the kitchen.
Naomi gave Micah an innocent look. “Thought you’d give water conservation a miss this time, huh?” She pushed her tongue into her cheek.
Micah fired her a warning glance, before staring in the direction of Dad’s office. “How is he this morning?” he asked quietly.
Naomi’s mood changed instantly. She sighed. “I tried to keep him focused on other things—and thank you for that, by the way. He came downstairs to tell me you weren’t in your room. Didn’t take him long to figure out where you were.”
“Was he okay about it?” Micah could only imagine what had gone through his dad’s head.
“Surprisingly, yeah.” Naomi smiled. “Something else I have to thank you for.”
“Huh?”
“You’ve kinda paved the way for when I invite Si—when I invite someone to stay here.”
“Oh really?” Micah grinned. “All right, who is he?”
Naomi sniffed. “I plead the Fifth.”
Micah snorted. “You’re pre-med, not pre-law. And you know I’ll get it out of you, one way or another.”
“You can try,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Now get your butt upstairs and get cleaned up, so we can open some goddamn presents.” She gave him another glare. “At this rate it’ll be midnight before you get your act together.”
He laughed and headed for the stairs. When he reached his room, he closed the door behind him and leaned against it.
He had the feeling it was going to be a long, long day.
Naomi collected the plates and mugs, and loaded them into the dishwasher. “Okay,” she said triumphantly. “Now can we open presents?”
Joshua shook his head. “I knew I shouldn’t have put them under the tree before I went to bed,” he told Greg and Micah. “She’s been like a six-year-old since she got up and saw them.”
Greg sighed. “I did the same thing last night.”
“In that case, let’s just give her the wrapping paper from ours, and she can play with that.” Micah gave Naomi an innocent smile. “You’d be happy with that, right, sis?”
Greg snorted when he saw the glare Naomi gave her brother. “Yeah, right. I wouldn’t say stuff like that if she was my sister. I like my balls where they are.” Then he realized what he’d said, and he widened his eyes. “Oh, God. I’m sorry. That just slipped out.”
Joshua stared at him for a moment, and then guffawed. “No need to apologize, son. You’re sorta one of the family now.”
Greg didn’t miss the way Micah’s face tightened. What was that? But before he could analyze it further, Naomi dove out of the room, heading for the living room.
Joshua sighed. “No point putting off the inevitable, I guess.” He followed her out of the room.
Now that was a reaction Greg understood.
This had to be hard on Joshua: a time of joy mingled with sorrow.
For a moment he found himself thinking about his own dad.
I wish we could have shared one more Christmas.
Not that he could recall the Christmases from his childhood.
Apart from their initial meeting, their brief time together had only spanned the five months leading up to his death.
Micah’s hand was at his elbow. “Come on, Hopalong. Let’s go sit in front of the fire and see what Santa has brought.”
“I know what I want for Christmas,” Greg murmured. When Micah gazed at him quizzically, he smiled. “More nights like last night.”
“I think that can be arranged,” Micah said softly. His face tightened for a fleeting moment, then straightened. “Although I doubt you’ll find that under the tree.”
Greg doubted it too.
He followed Micah into the living room, where the tree was already a blaze of light and color, and the fire pushed out warmth into every corner. Joshua was in his armchair, and Greg’s footrest stood next to the couch. He sat down, lifting his leg up onto the pillows, Micah beside him.
Naomi knelt on the floor at the foot of the tree, peering at the prettily wrapped packages.
“Seeing as I’m still in my red jammies, I’ll play Santa.
” She picked up one present, and Greg recognized it.
“For Joshua, from Greg.” Naomi weighed it experimentally in one hand.
“Ooh, heavy.” She passed it to Joshua, before picking up a smaller package.
“Another from Greg, this time for Micah.” Her eyes gleamed. “Wonder what’s inside?” She shook it.
“Hand it over, Santa.” Micah held out his hand.
She huffed, but did as instructed. “And here’s one for Greg, from Micah. Another heavy one.” She got up and brought it over to him, before diving back to the tree. “Aha! One for me—a light, squishy one, from Greg.”
For the next minute or so, the only sound in the room was that of tearing paper. Joshua cackled. “A cookbook?” He peered at Greg, grinning. “You trying to tell me something, son?”