Chapter 11 Reindeer Erectile Dysfunction
Reindeer Erectile Dysfunction
Istared at the Christmas tree, fingers absently tracing the star topper in my hand. The damn thing was taunting me, waiting to be placed at the top of the perfectly decorated tree that was now a monument to my momentary lapse in judgment.
Three days had passed since I’d dry-humped Blitz while Don kissed me senseless. Three days of pretending it hadn’t happened. Three days of ignoring the texts from both men, each message more concerned than the last.
What the hell was wrong with me? I’d gone from avoiding Christmas like the plague to grinding on a man named after a famous reindeer while another watched. And let’s not forget I’d already kissed two others the night before.
The star glinted as I set it back in its box. I wasn’t ready to finish the tree. Finishing meant accepting whatever was happening, and I wasn’t there yet.
My phone buzzed.
Kip: Meet us outside in five. Wear something comfortable!
Great. Another festive adventure with the Christmas crusaders.
I peered through my blinds to confirm my suspicions.
Sure enough, the red electric truck idled in front of my house.
Except this time, it had twinkling lights around the truck bed and along the doors.
I wasn’t sure of the legality of placing Christmas lights on vehicles, but I imagined they reined themselves in by not covering the whole thing.
At least it wasn’t Blitz or Don. Or Pierce. Or Vix. At this point, I was going to need an Excel document to keep track of them all.
I grabbed my purse, locked up, and steeled myself for whatever holiday nonsense awaited me.
Kip waved enthusiastically from where he held open the truck door for me while Cole sat stoically behind the wheel, his massive frame making the steering wheel look child-sized.
I climbed into the passenger seat. “You’re not wearing matching shirts. I’m almost disappointed.”
Cole’s mouth twitched. “Night off.”
I got the distinct feeling that he was lying. “Oh really?”
Kip climbed in the back and leaned forward between the seats. “So, Neve. How’s the tree?”
My face heated as I realized they knew about what I’d done with Blitz and Don. Did they know about Pierce and Vix too?
I buckled my seatbelt as the truck pulled away from the curb and sank lower in my seat. “You all must think I’m a hoe, hoe, hoe.” I giggled and quickly slapped my hand over my mouth. Where the heck had that come from?
Kip patted my shoulder. “We’ll forgive you for that unbelievably cringe pun.”
Cole glanced over at me before he turned out of my neighborhood. “We don’t think you’re a hoe, as you so eloquently put it. We all feel a pull toward you in that way.”
“You do?” My thighs involuntarily squeezed together at the thought of nine of them. None of it made any sense. I was usually impartial to romance and was fine without dating and sex.
Kip shifted into the middle seat and leaned forward, close enough that I caught a hint of cinnamon and pine. His eyes, bright and earnest, locked with mine. “I definitely do.” His voice was soft but certain, with no trace of his usual playful banter.
There was something so disarmingly sincere about him that I had to look away, pretending to be fascinated by the Christmas lights of a passing house.
Time to change the subject. “Where are we going?”
Cole pulled onto the highway. “Holiday surprise.”
“You’ve all been full of those lately. Almost like you’re planning them to be progressively worse for me.” I twisted in my seat so I could see Kip better.
Kip laughed. “Maybe we are. We’re very coordinated.”
“Coordinating through what, the Reindeer Telepathy Network? Do you all have group texts? Is one called ‘Operation Make Neve Festive’ or something?”
Kip tapped a finger to his temple. “Something like that. Our connection is deeper than phones.”
I rolled my eyes. “So what, the nine of you gather in a circle, hold hooves, and beam thoughts into each other’s heads? Very efficient.”
Cole made an amused noise in the back of his throat. “Not exactly. Herd communication goes through the alpha.”
“So there’s a reindeer hierarchy? And Rudy’s what, the big boss reindeer?” I was making an absolute guess since they all seemed to turn to him, and he was the biggest out of the bunch.
Kip pressed his lips together, clearly trying not to laugh. “You could say that.”
My mind raced with questions. Suddenly, I remembered something from a nature documentary I’d watched during a deep Netflix hole one insomnia-filled night.
“Wait a minute. When do your antlers fall off? When I saw Rudy, Dash, and Dane, they still had theirs. Is it too early? Is it the warm temperature here?” The implications hit me like a snowball to the face as I remembered the documentary’s narration about reindeer behavior.
“Oh shit, it’s the middle of your mating season, isn’t it?
Is that why I want to mount you all? You’re giving off horny reindeer pheromones? ”
The truck swerved slightly before Cole corrected it, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel.
Kip’s face drained of all color, his freckles standing out more than usual. He swallowed hard, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Neve, you can never talk about antlers falling off to a reindeer’s face again.”
I blinked, looking between them. They were both dead serious. “What? Why?”
Cole made a low, guttural noise that reminded me of thunder. “Because losing our antlers means we don’t have enough magic to fly.”
I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. I could get behind them shifting, but flying? That was absurd. “Seriously? Reindeer can’t really fly. Plus, losing them is a natural process, isn’t it?”
Cole’s face was carved from stone, and Kip looked like I’d suggested we eat a baby reindeer for dinner.
“It’s not a natural process for magical reindeer. It’s like asking a man if he’s...” Kip gestured vaguely toward his lap.
“Impotent,” Cole finished bluntly.
My mouth formed a perfect O. “Oh. So, reindeer erectile dysfunction?”
Cole’s jaw ticked as if he were holding back his true feelings on this topic. “Worse. It’s magical dysfunction. It’s very serious, Neve.”
“Got it. No R.E.D. talk or asking if there are little red pills instead of blue.” I held up my hands in surrender, desperate to change the subject away from anything regarding their dicks. “So why are we headed for the golf course? I’m not dressed for eighteen holes.”
Cole flicked on the turn signal and steered the truck off the highway onto a side road. “We’re not golfing.”
A few minutes later, the truck pulled into an empty parking lot.
I groaned when I saw the sign. “An ice rink? You’re joking.”
“Surprise!” Kip bounced in his seat like a kid on Christmas morning, all talk of antler shedding forgotten.
“I’m wearing a tank top,” I protested. “It’s going to be freezing in there.”
Kip reached behind Cole’s seat and produced a large shopping bag. “We came prepared.”
“Of course you did.” I tried to peer into the bag, already dreading whatever festive monstrosities they’d brought.
Sure enough, Kip pulled out three Christmas sweaters. Mine was eye-searing red with a 3D reindeer face complete with googly eyes and a bell for a nose.
“You can’t be serious.” I glared at the offending sweater as I took it.
The eyes on the reindeer seemed to mock me, as if they knew exactly how ridiculous I’d look.
“There has to be a law against forcing someone to wear something that jingles when they walk. I have dignity. Not much, granted, but it exists. Honestly, I’d rather freeze to death. ”
Cole’s eyes met mine as he pulled his sweater over his head. “No, you wouldn’t.”
Kip nodded solemnly, though his eyes danced with amusement. “Christmas sweaters are sacred traditions.”
The word “tradition” hit something inside me, and I wasn’t in the truck anymore.
I was sitting on a plush carpet, about six years old, giggling uncontrollably as my father strutted down a makeshift runway in our living room. He wore a sweater with a dancing snowman whose arms moved. Behind him, nine other men waited their turns, each in a more ridiculous sweater than the last.
“Next up,” Mom announced in a game show host voice, “Blitzen models this year’s ‘Snow Much Fun’ collection!”
One of the tall men spun dramatically, showing off a sweater covered in tiny fake snowballs that bounced with his movement.
“Ten out of ten!” I shouted, holding up a handmade scorecard.
I blinked back to the present, clutching the sweater to my chest.
“Neve?” Kip’s voice was gentle. “You okay?”
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Fine. Just... remembered something.”
“From before?” Kip’s voice lowered, his hand warm on my shoulder.
“Yeah.” I pulled the hideous sweater over my head, hiding for a moment. “It was an ugly sweater contest with sweaters even worse than these. My dad was there with a bunch of his friends.”
Cole’s eyebrows lifted a fraction. “Your memories are returning faster now.”
“They’re popping up randomly. None of it makes sense.” I adjusted the sweater, wincing as the bell jingled.
Kip pulled on his sweater, which had actual working Christmas lights embedded in a tree pattern. “We’ll take the random pop-ups.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. Why would my two very loving parents send me away and alter my memories? That seemed so cruel.
I pushed open the truck door, eager to escape the claustrophobic cab. “Let’s get this over with.”
Cole locked the truck and stuffed the keys into his jeans pocket. His sweater was navy blue and covered in glittery snowflakes.
“How come you get the tasteful one?” I gestured at his sweater as we walked toward the entrance.
“Seniority.”
“Not fair. I should get seniority. I’m Santa’s daughter; that has to be good for something.” I stopped abruptly, and Kip ran into me, his arms circling my waist to stop me from face-planting.
I knew I’d already considered it, but now the thought was stronger, like it wasn’t being tamped down by some subliminal force in my brain. It felt like discovering a door in a familiar wall that had always been there but was painted to match the background perfectly until this moment.
My memories weren’t just missing; they’d been deliberately hidden from me. The name “Santa” echoed in my skull, too loud and too obvious to ignore.
My dad. The man in every song, every story, every childhood dream, and he was mine.
And now, standing here in this ridiculous jingling sweater with Kip’s calming presence behind me, the barriers seemed to be crumbling faster than a gingerbread house in July.
My chest ached with a strange mix of awe and grief, like I’d just stumbled across the truth of who I was and realized how much of myself I’d lost without it.
“Why are my memories all over the place?” I turned, looking at both men for answers.
“It’s complicated.” Cole crossed his arms, appearing uncomfortable for the first time.
“It’s really not. You guys can’t tell me anything, but why? Is there a spell? Can you only be in the North Pole to talk about the North Pole?” I ran through all of my interactions with them and thought about how I steered myself away from anything festive. “Jingle is code for the North Pole.”
Kip’s eyes widened, and then the tight line of his lips broke into his usual smile. “It is, but you usually forget it pretty quickly, which is why we can’t just tell you everything. The magic won’t let us.”
“I forget?” My brows furrowed so hard that I really hoped a permanent crease didn’t form. “So I’ve connected myself to my dad being Santa and the North Pole already?”
“Briefly. You’ve been away for so long that it’s hard for the magic to grant you permission to know. If we were to stay away for too long, the magic would push us away from the truth, too.” Cole shrugged as if this wasn’t a major piece of the puzzle he was giving me.
“So in a few minutes, I might forget all of this?”
Kip took my hand, entwining our fingers. “Yes. We think when you fight your joy, it’s a snowball effect in your brain with the magic. Also, the distance from home doesn’t help.”
Cole’s gaze was steady on mine. “You won’t hold on to it yet. The magic won’t let you. At least not with how long you’ve been away and not until you’re closer to the North Pole.”
“The North Pole?” I blinked, confused. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Cole sighed and looked at Kip. “This is going to be difficult if we don’t take her farther north.”
Kip squeezed my hand, bringing me back from the fog that had settled over my thoughts. “The ice rink? Remember? We were going to skate?”
“Right.” I shook my head, feeling like I’d just woken up. What had we been talking about? Something important, something that filled me with longing, but it was gone now. “Time to embarrass myself.”
Cole held the door open. “We reserved the rink.”
A part of me wanted to run back to the truck, drive home, and lock myself away from all of this holiday chaos they kept dragging me into. But another part, which was growing stronger with each cookie decorated and tree trimmed, wanted to step inside.
“Fine.” I marched through the door, the bell on my sweater jingling with each step. “I’m warning you both now, I have the grace of a drunk reindeer on ice.”
“A drunk reindeer on the ice would win a gold medal.” Kip sounded serious, but when I looked back over my shoulder, the lights on his sweater highlighted his grin.
The skating rink was predictably freezing, though not as cold as I’d expected. Maybe I was getting used to it. Or maybe the whole “frost demon” thing was working in my favor for once.
A strange sense of homecoming washed over me as I stared at the ice. The gleaming surface stretched before me, inviting in a way I couldn’t quite explain.
I stood transfixed at the edge of the rink, my fingers tingling with an inexplicable anticipation, as if my body remembered something my mind had misplaced. And for once, I didn’t feel like running away.