12. Marcus
Marcus
D ecember 26th, Boxing Day
I wake to a dull ache rippling through my body, each pulse a reminder of the night before. It’s Nyree’s doing, that much I know. The memory of her floods my mind, pushing aside all the bitterness from yesterday.
But not entirely. I can't forget Coco. The argument still lingers, sharp in the back of my throat. I hated bickering with her, especially with Ethan watching. That smug look of his… it fueled a rage in me that I barely kept in check. I had to escape, take a few minutes out in the outhouse just to cool off before I did something I'd regret. But when I returned for the dinner, the dinner I’d poured my energy into, he was at it again. Just the sight of him sitting there was enough to tick me off.
It boiled over when they left, Coco and him, off to bed. The thought of him touching her, being with her, eats me alive. I couldn't stop my mind from spiraling down that dark path.
Then there was Nyree. God, Nyree. She’s like a balm to every raw wound. Just her presence, the way she moves, the way she is, it shifts everything. When I’m around her, Ethan fades into nothing. She becomes all I can think about.
Last night was different. I’m not sure what sparked it, maybe the anger from earlier, maybe the frustration of knowing Coco doesn’t see him for what he is. But something lit a fire in me. When I looked at Nyree, I felt this surge, an overpowering need. I wanted her. More than I ever had before. There was no holding back. I couldn’t. It felt like she wanted me too, the same intensity mirrored in her eyes.
It was raw, overwhelming, and now, the soreness I feel is proof of what we did. I turn in bed, reaching instinctively for her, but she’s not there. I sigh, frustrated. I had asked her to stay. Nearly begged. But she wouldn’t risk it, risk Coco finding out. "I don’t want her to find out this way," she had whispered to me, her words quiet but firm.
I glance at the clock, a few minutes past seven. The pull to her room is strong, almost unbearable. Even if we can’t have the privacy, I need to see her. To lock eyes with her, if only for a moment. She has to be the first thing I see this morning.
I stretch, rising from the bed, a yawn escaping me as I loosen the stiffness from my limbs. There's a sudden hum of electricity, soft but noticeable, and the room brightens slightly. I flick on the light, a little test to see if the power’s fully returned. For a moment, the bulb shines bright and steady. I feel a small wave of relief, no more relying on the backup generator after that storm knocked everything out.
But just as I let myself relax, the light flickers. Slowly at first, then faster. A warning. And then it’s gone.
The power’s back, but not for long. I stand still for a moment, processing the situation, and then it hits me: the fuse. With the power cutting out and the house running on the backup generator, the sudden switch could have blown it. Just as the thought forms, I hear Coco’s voice from outside my room, distant but clear, likely coming from the living room.
“Anyone else notice that?” she calls out.
I catch the soft creak of Nyree’s door opening and their voices mixing together. I know I’ll have to face them, and the thought tugs at me in different ways.
Stepping out, I make my way to the living room. As I enter, they’re all there; Coco, Nyree, and, much to my irritation, Ethan. He’s lounging like he belongs here.
“What happened?” Nyree asks as soon as she sees me.
“It’s probably the fuse. I’ll take a look at it,” I say, heading straight for my coat. I don’t bother making eye contact, don’t want to engage. Not with Coco, not with him. Not yet.
Just as I’m pulling the coat over my shoulders, I hear his voice. “I could come along. I’m actually quite good with electrical issues.”
I freeze, the words hanging in the air. Slowly, I turn and look at him. Nyree’s eyes flicker between him and me, as do Coco’s, seemingly eager for my response.
For a second, I feel the familiar burn of anger, the kind that makes my fists tighten. But I shake my head, forcing the heat back down. “No, I’ve got it.” I turn on my heel and head out the door, making my way toward the outhouse, leaving him behind.
Better to focus on the fuse than let Ethan enrage me again.
The walk to the outhouse is brisk, but easier than it might have been, thanks to the path Nyree and I cleared the day before. The air is sharp, biting against my skin, but it does nothing to cool the heat simmering beneath the surface. When I reach the outhouse, I find the fuse exactly as I suspected, blown. Its casing is warped, the faint scent of burnt wiring still clinging to it.
I allow myself a moment of quiet satisfaction, remembering the spares I keep stored here. Being prepared has always been my way. It serves me well in business, in life, and even in moments like these; unpredictable, but manageable, so long as you have the right tools.
I move to the shelves, fingers deftly sorting through the supplies until I find the spare fuse. With a quick glance and a small nod to myself, I return to the console. My hands work automatically, fitting the replacement in place. But then, a sound comes.
A soft crunch of snow behind me.
I hear it, but I don’t turn. My heart begins to race, quickening with every step I hear, each deliberate footfall growing louder, closer. A part of me knows who I want it to be. I hope… no, I know it’s her. Nyree. The mere possibility stills me. I stop working, frozen, not from the cold but from the anticipation that swells inside me. I listen, ears straining to catch every sound, every delicate crunch of snow that promises her approach.
The memories of last night flood my mind, her caramel skin under my fingertips, the warmth of her body, her yielding, the way she surrenders herself so fully, so completely in those moments. My heart pounds harder, each step drawing nearer, pulling me deeper into those thoughts. I imagine her slipping into the outhouse, her eyes finding mine, that familiar, tender smile curving her lips.
The door creaks open, and I finally turn, heart leaping in my chest, fully expecting to see her standing there.
But it’s not her.
The disappointment hits me like a punch, and I know it must show on my face, betraying every ounce of hope I had foolishly let myself feel. Standing in the doorway, hands casually stuffed into his pockets, is Ethan. Of course, it’s him.
“I know you said not to come, but I figured you could use some help,” he says.
The sound of his voice and the sight of him standing there, cuts through me, boiling my blood in a way only Ethan can. The fuse in my hand feels too small for the anger surging inside me. I grip it tighter, wishing for a moment it was something else, something I could break in half, something to release this seething frustration.
But instead, I hold it in. My fists tighten, but I turn back to the console, forcing myself to breathe through the rage. This is not the time. Not now.
But damn if I don’t wish it were.
As I work the fuse into place, I feel him stepping closer.
“So… I was hoping we could talk…” Ethan starts, his voice oozing with that damned false innocence. “…about Coco.”
If obnoxiousness were an art form, Ethan would be a master. He has this unique talent for twisting the knife, even when he pretends not to. Every word he speaks, every inflection, provokes me. Here he is again, bringing up Coco, as if to remind me, casually of course, that she’s with him. All while I’m trying to fix the fuse for the house he’s a guest in.
I freeze for a moment. My hands stop moving. Normally, I would turn and react. But I don't. Not this time. I grip the fuse harder, resisting the pull.
Then he speaks again.
“Hey… you’re doing it wrong.”
A sigh escapes me. Okay. Fine. I’ll bite.
“What?” I say, the word sharp as I turn to him.
“The fuse. You’re putting it in wrong. It’s supposed to go the other way.”
I can feel the anger bubbling up inside me, hot and fast. “What the hell are you talking about? I think I know how to fix a goddamn fuse.”
“Whoa… take it easy, okay? I was just making an observation.”
“No,” I snap, my voice rising despite myself. “You were being an asshole is what you were doing.”
“Marcus, there’s no point getting worked up about it,” he says, pointing at the fuse. “I’m just trying to help.”
I look closer at the spot he’s pointing at, and I see it; I have somehow fitted the fuse in the wrong way. The realization sends my anger into overdrive. This must be a crowning achievement for him, the ultimate dig. My pulse spikes. I feel my heartbeat thundering in my ears. Blood rushes to my head, making it hard to think of anything but how much I want to hit him. My fists clench at my sides, and I take a step closer, my body practically vibrating with the desire to shut him up.
But then I see them. The figures behind him are just standing off in the distance. Coco and Nyree. Their faces are drawn with concern, their eyes fixed on me, watching and waiting. I freeze again, the anger still pulsing through me, but now tangled with something else, something I can’t ignore.
I can’t do it. I won’t give them a scene, won’t make them uncomfortable just to satisfy my rage.
Without a word, I drop the spare fuse to the ground. Ethan’s gaze flicks to it.
“Since you’re in a helping mood, how about you fix it yourself,” I say, my voice tight and restrained. Then I turn, walking out before he can open his mouth to say something else, something that might push me past the point of no return.
As I walk past Coco and Nyree standing in the walkway, my eyes catch Coco’s. There’s something unspoken in her face, a look of hesitation, like she wants to tell me something. The urge to ask rises in me, but just as the words form, she turns away.
“Ethan, need any help in there?!” she calls out, already moving toward the outhouse.
I keep walking, letting the words drift away as I head to the back of the house, seeking the solitude that awaits me there. The snow is thicker here, undisturbed by our earlier efforts to clear the path. I push through it, my boots sinking into the cold blanket until I reach an old log half-buried in snow. Sitting down, I let out a heavy sigh, my breath misting in the cold air. My pulse slows, and I feel the weight of everything settle over me like the winter sky.
Why Ethan? The question nags at me, gnawing at my thoughts. Of all the men in the world, why him? Coco swore she didn’t know how much of a thorn he’d been in my side when they first started dating. But now that she does know, why stay with him? Is it love? Some form of blind emotion? Maybe it’s something like what I feel for Nyree. But Nyree is... perfect. Warm, thoughtful, good. What does Coco see in someone like Ethan?
The crunch of footsteps in the snow pulls me from my thoughts. For a fleeting second, I brace myself. I swear to God if that’s Ethan again…
But then I see her, Nyree. She moves carefully, as if she’s afraid to disturb whatever storm still brews inside me. She sits beside me on the log, close but not too close, and for a while, we just sit in the quiet.
Finally, she breaks the silence. “Hey,” she says softly.
“Hey,” I respond, my voice colder than I intend, the residual anger from Ethan still lodged in my chest.
“Umm… Happy Boxing Day.” Her tone is light, and when I turn to look at her, I see that innocent sparkle in her eyes. It’s so disarming, so absurdly gentle in this moment, that I can’t help but chuckle.
“Happy Boxing Day, Nyree.”
The tension between us eases. We sit there for a while, silent again, her presence offering a calm I most certainly needed. She’s thinking, I can tell. Trying to find the right words to lift me out of this dark mood. Finally, she turns to me, a playful energy in her voice. “So... you had a Christmas tree and Christmas dinner. Do you have any Boxing Day rituals?”
I shake my head, a small, bemused smile creeping onto my face. “No. Can’t say I do.”
She stands, brushing the snow from her coat, her expression bright with an idea. “I think I’ve got one we can do.”
Before I can ask what she means, she steps forward and lies down in the snow, spreading her arms and legs in wide, flapping motions. “Snow angels!” she exclaims with a laugh, her eyes glowing with childlike excitement.
It’s such an unexpected, innocent gesture, I can’t help but laugh. A real, genuine laugh that feels like the first in a while. She looks up at me with that wide smile, completely at ease. “My dad used to love ‘em… Come on, join me!”
I hesitate. The remnants of my earlier frustration still clings to me, but the allure of her joy is too strong to resist. I lie down beside her, careful to leave just enough space between us, and start moving my arms and legs in sync with hers, carving a snow angel into the powdery ground.
Nyree laughs. Loud, full, and rich laughter that for a moment, the world feels lighter. Just us, the snow, and this silly, sweet moment. Nothing else matters.
Her laughter fades into a quieter, more serious tone as she turns to me. “I know you’re just trying to protect Coco. You love her. But she’s an adult now. She can choose who she wants to be with... You understand that, right?”
The words hit me harder than I expect. I’ve been Coco’s protector for so long, ever since her mother passed. Her safety, her happiness and her life has been my priority. But Nyree’s right. Coco’s not a child anymore. She can make her own decisions, even if they don’t make sense to me. But Ethan? Ethan?
I shake my head, my breath escaping in a frustrated huff. “Anyone... anyone would’ve been fine. But Ethan... He’s no good for her, Nyree.”
Nyree nods, a soft, understanding look in her eyes. Maybe she agrees, or maybe she knows better than to push it any further right now. Either way, we fall into a comfortable silence again, just lying there in the snow, the cold somehow less biting with her beside me.
Then, a mischievous thought strikes me. I scoop up a handful of snow, packing it loosely in my palm. “So... you asked if I had any Boxing Day rituals?”
“Hmm-hmm,” she hums, curious and smiling.
“Well... here’s one.” I toss the snowball right into her face.
Her mouth drops open in exaggerated shock, her expression priceless as the snow splatters across her. “Ohhh, hell no!” she yells, scooping up a handful of snow and launching it back at me.
And just like that, we’re in a full-blown snowball fight. Laughter spills out of us, carefree and wild. We throw snow, dodging and ducking like kids. For now, nothing else matters. Not Ethan, not the tension, not the past. Just Nyree and me, playing in the snow, completely unburdened by everything else.
***