Chapter 9
Maya
There’s something endearingly paternal about the way Soren helps Arabella puncture little skulls and string them up. Also, a little sadistic.
Yes. Sadistic. That’s a much safer thought than finding the man who broke in endearing. I have to get him out of here. But… I won’t lie and say I’m not enjoying the turn of events a little, if only because Arabella has been bossing him around and not me.
When Bella called a few hours ago and I rushed over from my barren apartment, I was sure the holiday was going to be terrible.
Not just because I’d been robbed—I was determined to spend some time with Bella, showing her my favorite places around the city at Christmastime, taking her ice skating, anything to make the holiday memorable for her, but when I got here, she refused to get off her video game.
I don’t know what it was, but it was quite gruesome and seemed to be the only thing keeping her from torturing me.
Until Soren got here.
I’m not saying a thief breaking in is ideal, but it has been highly entertaining. Minus the concussion.
A blessing in disguise, I suppose.
I’m still trying to make sense of it—his supposedly “noble” reason for being here, his reappearance in my life—but my handy new concussion is making the processing even harder. The headache is now dull, thanks to the meds Soren gave me an hour ago.
His caring and attentiveness make it all the more confusing.
I never thought I’d see Soren again after that night. I never wanted to. I was doing great—better than great. I was killing it in a “my life is running on fumes” kind of way.
Then I saw him, and all those teenage feelings rushed back like they never left. The extra pumping in my chest, warmth in my cheeks, prickles on my skin, the full-body awareness of him…
But it means nothing. Absolutely nothing. He’s a criminal, and I’ll turn him in as soon as I am physically able. Until then, I might as well let him babysit Arabella; he owes me that much.
Soren glances toward the office.
I wanted to move the painting while he was dragging the tree out of the storage room down the hall, but I worried I wouldn’t have time before he came back, so I locked the door until I can get to it, hopefully before he does.
I can’t believe he didn’t take it and leave while I was passed out. Did he actually care more about me than a painting? Dissecting that thought requires the part of my brain that is currently jumbled. So I don’t.
“What’s your favorite thing to do on Christmas?” Arabella asks Soren as she adds a bloody knife to the end of her garland.
He frowns at his mess of string and body parts on his lap. “I don’t really celebrate.”
“Why?”
“Why’d you ditch your parents on Christmas?” he shoots back.
She purses her lips. “’Cause they suck.”
“Exactly.”
“Your parents suck, too?”
“Something like that.”
Soren doesn’t talk about his parents. He never has. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know.
They were never around much growing up, but shortly after I went to college, I heard his parents had both been arrested for embezzlement at the hospital they oversaw. It made national news.
A pang of sadness hits the center of my chest. How could Soren take up a life of crime after all they did?
Is he trying to follow in their footsteps?
I know he resents them. Doesn’t he want to be better?
The boy I knew in high school would never admit it, but all he needed was a purpose.
For some reason, it hurts he picked the wrong one.
“What did you wish you could do on Christmas?” Arabella asks instead.
Soren surprises me by answering. “I always wanted to build a gingerbread house.”
The simplicity of his answer breaks my heart, and somewhere inside, there’s an eighteen-year-old Maya wishing to go back in time and do that for him.
“Gingerbread houses are… the… worst,” Arabella says, overemphasizing every word. “We had to build one at school, and mine wouldn’t stay together.”
“That’s because you made it a volcano,” I cut in.
Soren smirks. “Baking soda and vinegar?”
“Is there any other way?” Arabella grins when Soren lifts his hand for a high five.
And that is where I draw the line.
This friendship has officially run its course.
“All right,” I break in before the two of them can make plans against me and pull myself off the couch I’ve inhabited for far too long. “Time to get Derek the doctor on his merry way and get you to bed.”
“No!” Arabella whines. “It’s not even eight yet. You said we could watch a Christmas movie tonight.”
I forgot those words came out of my mouth before Soren showed up. It feels like yesterday. I could blame the concussion, but I don’t want to break a promise to a girl whose parents always do.
“We’ll watch Elf.” A Christmas movie I can get behind.
“No way.” Arabella shakes her head. “We’re watching Die Hard.”
Soren chuckles, and I glare at him.
“It is a Christmas movie,” he says simply.
“Not for children.”
“She’s right; there’s probably too much action for Penny’s delicate brain.” Soren acquiesces with a look of pity toward Bella.
I roll my eyes.
“Fine,” Bella submits.
“How about Home Alone?” I offer instead.
Arabella considers this. “Feels appropriate.”
I roll my eyes at her dramatics, but she’s more accurate than she knows.
“Go get it set up. I need to have a chat with Derek.”
Her face scrunches. “Are you guys going to fight?”
“Of course not.” I laugh awkwardly. “Why would you think that?”
“’Cause Mom and Dad say the same thing when they want me to leave the room so they can fight.”
Not for the first time, my heart breaks a little more for her.
“So, if you’re not going to fight… you’re going to kiss?” She grins.
Sympathy gone.
“Definitely not,” I say at the same time Soren says, “Not a bad idea.”
Bella shrugs. “That’s what Reese says her parents do.” She offers this so helpfully before turning and leaving the room. Finally.
I whirl on Soren. “You need to go right now.”
“Can’t.”
“I’m clearly fine,” I hiss. “You can check off your good deed for the year. Maybe it will cancel out one of your previous offenses. It won’t be enough to get you on the nice list, but you may be past help.”
A slow smirk grows on his lips. Instead of responding, he walks straight toward me. The closer he gets, the warmer the room grows. His shoulders seem broader; his very presence takes up more space than it should.
He grabs both sides of my face, and the world seems to drop out from beneath me. My knees weaken, and my cheeks burn beneath his touch.
His eyes search mine for something.
Permission? As if I’d ever give that to him again. I learned my lesson the first time.
“W-we’re not kissing,” I stammer.
His lips curl, and I drag my gaze away from them. “Yet, it’s on your mind.”
“Because of Bella.”
He drops his hands. “Your eyes still aren’t dilating. Not even when you thought I was going to kiss you,” he says.
I blink. The concussion. “Maybe that says more about you than me.” I pull away from him. One step. Two. Not far enough. I need an entire building between us. Maybe a country. “Now go.”
“I told you. I’m not leaving without that painting.”
“And I told you you can’t have it.”
“You know what? A movie sounds great.” He turns to follow Bella.
“Soren, wait.”
My soft tone stops him in his tracks. I take a deep breath and look up at him with the sincerest pleading I can muster. “If you stay here, I will murder you.”
His left brow flicks up. “Is that a challenge?”
“I can’t do this.” I wave my hand between us. “I’m trying to give Arabella a good holiday, but I can’t spend it with a crook.”
His eyes narrow to something icy and distant. “Then hand over the painting, and I’ll leave.”
The fake switchblade is on the couch, and I pick it up. “Not a chance. I don’t trust you.”
He lifts a brow at my “knife.” “Is that your weapon of choice, or would you like to drown me with a water gun?”
“You know…” I stalk toward him, plastic knife outstretched. “I forgave you.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“Or at least I forgot about what you did. But if you’re going to come back into my life and make it a disaster, I’ll be enacting my revenge.” I’m done being walked on.
He stuffs his hands in his pockets in a relaxed and unworried manner. “Just so I know how best to prepare, is this the Maya who cried when I cut off the frog’s head in ninth grade biology or Penny, the lying nanny?”
I glare at him. “Neither. This is the girl with nothing to lose.”
His brows furrow, but he stalks forward, his voice low and threatening. “In that case, I look forward to what’s coming.”
“You won’t even see it coming.” I’m spouting nonsense now but I can’t make it stop. He knows it too.
“I’m intrigued.” His lips quirk to the side. “May the best man, or woman, win.”
It occurs to me if I’m going to get this man to leave, I’m going to have to be sneaky. Which means I might need Arabella’s help.
It’s a terrible idea. Encouraging Bella’s troublemaking side will only make everything worse. But I prefer a physical mess to the raucous circus in my chest at being forced to be near the man who left me all those years ago.
I need him gone, and I’m willing to stoop low. Very low.