21. Eric
Chapter twenty-one
Eric
T he first thing I feel when I wake up is the warmth of Jessica nestled against me. Her body is soft, her head resting on my chest, and for a moment, I just lie there, letting it sink in. Letting her sink in. We’re cuddled up against each other. The early morning light filtering through the window, casting a soft glow across her face. Everything about this feels right—her warmth, her presence. It’s quiet. Peaceful.
It hits me all over again: last night wasn’t just a dream.
I run my fingers gently through her hair, and she stirs in my arms, her eyelids fluttering as she starts to wake. Her body shifts slightly against mine, and I can’t help the smile that creeps up on my face. For the first time in a long time, I feel… grounded. Not lost. Not running. Just here, in this moment, with her.
She lets out a soft sigh, her eyes finally opening, and when she looks up at me, there’s a quiet smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Morning,” she whispers, her voice still husky with sleep.
“Morning,” I murmur back, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “And Merry Christmas! Sleep well?”
Her smile grows a little wider, and she stretches lazily in my arms before nodding. “Yeah… better than I have in a long time.”
There’s something about the way she says it—like she means more than just sleep—and it makes my chest tighten in a good way. Last night was unexpected, but I can’t bring myself to question even a second of it. Not with the way she’s looking at me right now, like she’s just as lost in this feeling as I am.
There’s no rush. It feels nice. No need to hurry off to practice or answer a million press questions. It’s just Christmas morning, and for now, it’s just us.
But eventually, reality starts to creep in. The Stantons will be here soon, and we should probably look a little more presentable .
Jessica sits up, pulling the covers around her shoulders as she glances at the clock on the nightstand. “We should probably get up,” she says, even though I can tell she’s reluctant to leave the warmth of the bed. “Kathy and Laura will be here any minute!”
I groan dramatically, but I know she’s right. “Yeah, yeah,” I say, throwing the blankets off and getting to my feet. “We’ll make a Christmas breakfast. Coffee too.”
She laughs softly as I stretch, and then she follows suit, wrapping a robe around herself as she pads into the bathroom to shower. I watch her for a second, just taking in the sight of her, before I shake myself out of it and join her in the shower.
The moment she notices my hard member, ready for her attention, her eyes shoot me a sultry look that can only mean one thing. I take my time soaping up her body and rinsing her off, my fingers finding their way to her pussy over and over again, edging her just enough and then pulling back. She swats me, finally, and gives me a demanding kiss, her hips pressed into me, my cock throbbing for her.
I pin her arms over her head and use the tip of my length to tease her clit. The warm water hits my back that is acting like a shield. I drop my hand to her wet folds again and this time, I don’t stop until she’s panting and gasping, demanding my cock.
I flip her around, arms and legs spread, hands outstretched on the tile of the shower. She arches her back for me and I slide into her warmth. It feels like coming home. It makes me feel like all is right in the world again.
Thirty minutes later, we are able to walk into the kitchen, sexually satisfied and ready for a wonderful holiday with friends.
We move around the kitchen together like it’s something we’ve done a hundred times before—she sets up the coffee, I crack eggs into a bowl, and before long, the smell of breakfast fills the air. There’s something easy and comfortable about it, like we’ve found our rhythm without even trying.
As the coffee starts to brew, I turn to her, unable to resist the pull to her. I step closer, sliding my hands around her waist, and she tilts her head up to meet my gaze. “What?” she asks with a smile, but there’s a knowing glint in her eyes.
I don’t say anything, just lean down and press my lips to hers, slow and soft. She melts into me instantly, her hands coming up to rest on my chest as she kisses me back. It’s lazy, unhurried, but there’s a spark underneath it that reminds me of everything that happened last night. Of everything that’s still happening between us.
When we finally pull away, I rest my forehead against hers, smiling. “Just wanted to do that,” I say, my voice low.
Jessica laughs softly, her fingers brushing against my jaw. “You’ll never hear me complain about that.”
Before I can respond, there’s a knock at the door. We both freeze for a second, then break apart as the reality of Christmas morning comes crashing back in.
“That’ll be Kathy and Laura,” Jessica says with a grin, and I nod, stepping back as she moves to open the door.
Kathy Stanton and her daughter, Laura, burst through the door, arms full of wrapped presents and faces lit up with Christmas cheer. Kathy’s laugh fills the space, and she leans in to kiss both Jessica and me on the cheek, pulling us into the whirlwind of the Stanton family Christmas.
“Merry Christmas!” Kathy exclaims, setting the gifts down on the coffee table. “We brought way too many presents, but it’s Christmas, so who cares!”
Laura is right behind her, smiling widely and looking as happy as I’ve ever seen her. “Merry Christmas, guys!”
Jessica beams at them, and I can’t help but smile too. It’s hard not to get swept up in the energy of the moment. Kathy and Laura have a way of making everything feel lighter, more festive. The house is filled with warmth and laughter as we exchange greetings, and soon we’re sitting around the Christmas tree, unwrapping gifts and passing around mugs of coffee.
I can’t help but steal glances at Jessica throughout the morning. Every time she catches my eye, she smiles, and there’s something in her gaze that tells me she’s thinking about last night too. It’s like this secret we’re both carrying, tucked away just beneath the surface, and every time we look at each other, it feels like a promise. Like something real.
The door opens again, and this time, Bill Stanton walks in with his wife, Chrissy. From what I understand, they’ve been married for five years and both Chrissy and Kathy get along just fine. It’s rare and wonderful.
Bill is my coach, but this morning, he’s just a guy celebrating Christmas with his family. He’s grinning from ear to ear, his arm slung casually around Chrissy’s shoulders as they make their way inside.
“Merry Christmas!” Bill calls out, his voice booming through the house. “We come bearing gifts!”
Chrissy waves, her smile warm and genuine. She’s the kind of woman who instantly makes you feel at ease, and as soon as she walks in, the room somehow feels even more welcoming.
The morning flies by in a blur of laughter and presents. Kathy and Laura are joking around with Bill. Chrissy is admiring the ornaments on the tree, and Jessica is sitting next to me, her knee brushing against mine. There’s a comfort in it, in this makeshift family we’ve found ourselves in, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. If every holiday season can be this happy, I might never be triggered again. I remember back to the day I first came to this house, how isolated and lonely I was. How fast everything has changed.
After the gifts are unwrapped and the room is littered with torn wrapping paper and ribbons, Jessica and I slip away to the kitchen to grab more coffee. It’s quiet for a moment, just the two of us, and I can’t help but reach for her hand as we stand at the counter.
“So,” I say, my thumb brushing over her knuckles. “About last night”
Jessica glances up at me, her eyes soft and a little shy. “Yeah?”
I hesitate for a second, not sure how to put into words everything I’m feeling. But then I remember how easy it felt last night, how right it all seemed. And suddenly, the words come easier.
“I don’t want last night to be just… something that happened,” I say quietly.
Before I can say anything else, my phone buzzes, breaking the moment. I glance at the screen and see a notification from social media. Without thinking, I grab it and open the app, only to see the picture Jessica and I posted earlier this morning—a simple shot of us together, smiling, with the caption: Happy Holidays from us to you.
The “breakup” was never official, but after last night, it felt more than natural to post an “us” photo on social media.
The photo already has hundreds of likes, and as I scroll through the comments, I feel happy. It almost all feels real. Most comments are from fans congratulating us, but then I see a text pop up from Allison, the Avalanche PR lead. I open it, already knowing more or less what she’s going to say.
Allison: Great job on the post! This is perfect for the team’s image. You two should do a couple of events together soon—maybe a New Year’s Eve charity appearance? Let’s keep the momentum going.
I groan at how relentless Allison is but show the text to Jessica, who groans right back at me and leans her head on my shoulder. “Does she ever stop working?” she pouts, and I laugh.
“Apparently not.” I type a quick response to Allison, telling her we’ll figure something out after the holidays, and then toss my phone back on the counter.
Jessica looks up at me, a small smile playing on her lips. “So, we’re back in the PR team’s good graces then, huh?”
I grin, leaning down to kiss her. “Yeah, I guess we are.”
It’s strange how quickly things have changed between us. Just a few weeks ago, I couldn’t imagine this—couldn’t imagine wanting this —but now, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
The rest of the morning goes by in a blur of laughter, food, and Christmas cheer. Bill and Kathy are trading stories about their younger days. Chrissy is teasing Laura about her upcoming wedding plans, and Jessica and I are sitting close, our knees brushing under the dining room table as we join in on the conversation.
It’s Christmas. It’s friends and family. And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I belong. Under it all, I feel a pang of sadness that my mother chose not to give any of this to me. I can’t help but wonder if it is somehow my fault that she walked out and didn’t want me.