Chapter 5
“Have you ever heard of charities doing stuff for the holidays?” The moment the question was out, I realized how stupid it sounded. It was too late to take it back, though.
My older brother, George, to his credit, didn’t say anything derogatory, nor did he make me feel like an idiot when he replied, “I think that’s pretty common actually.”
All of the Milton siblings teased one another. That was a fact. I was lucky he hadn’t taken the bait I’d accidentally dangled in front of him. I was too raw and conflicted right now to handle even good-natured ribbing.
The last time I’d lived on my own—the first time—and the reason I’d been dead set on doing everything myself was heavy on my mind.
I’d failed then. Been a farm laborer for all of six weeks before I’d been forced back home, broke and humiliated.
The worst part? I’d lost my backbone. I hadn’t known how to exist on my own, and that had led to my ultimate failure.
And no one in town had ever let me forget it.
I didn’t want to do that again.
Couldn’t do that again.
I couldn’t let myself down like that.
And yet…Jason’s words wouldn’t leave me.
“Are you talking about fundraising?” George inquired. He’d been speaking, and I’d missed a lot of it. Oops.
“No,” I frowned down at my phone, and the little image of his kitchen ceiling inside it. “I’m talking about a charity that has a Christmas fund that they offer to people in need around the holidays. It’s called the Santa Fund.”
“Cute name.”
Accepting help was the hardest thing I would ever do.
If I decided I would—which I still wasn’t sure about.
Jason had said he wanted to be my friend. And I…didn’t know how to feel about that. I’d chewed over it, processed it, then chewed it up again. All to come to the conclusion that it made sense.
For months he’d hounded me, hunted me like a goddamn predator. I’d wondered why. Been confused, frustrated. Just wanted an answer. Wanted to understand what it was that he was after.
And now that I knew…
I…well.
Jason reminded me of a wolf.
Wolves were pack animals. Meant to be surrounded. He’d said he hadn’t had a lot of friends as a kid. We were kindred spirits in that way. Maybe that was why he collected friends now.
I could…understand that.
It was a weird thought. The only friend I’d ever really had was Roderick, my hiking buddy. And that was only because he’d lived across the street from us growing up and been George’s boyfriend in high school. I’d never made a friend of my own, nor had I ever been pursued by someone else.
It made me feel…happy in a way.
I hadn’t realized anyone would want to be close to me.
I didn’t know what to do with that, just like I didn’t know what to do with the money Jason had dangled in front of me—no strings attached.
George was cooking, but had video chatted me anyway, even though for ninety percent of the conversation, he’d given me a whole lot of nothing. Just his walls, or his elbow, and now—his ceiling.
The thunk of his knife hitting the cutting board was methodical and practiced.
Somewhere in the distance, the buzz of theater music was in the air, and even farther away, Alex—George’s husband’s—voice could be heard singing along rather horribly.
He kept making George laugh, but he’d cover it up with a cough, pretending like he wasn’t amused as hell by his antics.
They were cute together.
The true definition of the word soulmate. I’d asked George once, at his wedding, how he’d known Alex was the one for him. He’d been mid-bridezilla moment, panicking over something about…flowers and the shade of blue—something silly.
And he’d turned to me, softened immediately, all that angry energy gone, and said he just…knew.
“It’s a feeling,” he’d said. “I don’t know how to explain it.
Sometimes you meet someone and they just feel…
right.” It made sense, though, in a cosmic sort of way.
When you loved someone, maybe that wasn’t something that could be explained.
Maybe…it was straight-forward that way. A feeling.
Undeniable. Words could be discounted, argued, denied.
But a feeling?
A feeling was just a feeling.
It was immensely satisfying to know that my family had been the ones to instigate their matchmaking.
When he’d picked up the phone, George had informed me he was cooking something special for dinner to celebrate Alex winning one of his hockey games earlier that week. He played recreationally and had convinced my very neurotic, anxiety-riddled older brother to try the ice himself.
George favored the figure skating side of things and often sent the family’s group chat videos of him attempting spins. Attempting, yes, because George was absolutely horrible and fell on his ass more often than not.
“Why do you ask?” George hummed, some more thunks of the knife echoing in the background. “Are you thinking of donating to it?”
It was a testament to how well I’d kept my financial woes a secret that George even asked that question. He—and everyone else in my nosy family—had no idea how much I’d been struggling. I wanted to keep it that way.
Which meant I needed to be careful with my next words.
“Maybe.” I clammed up immediately. “I saw something about it online and was curious if it was legitimate.” I’d never been the best liar so I hoped he bought it. “Figured I’d ask.”
“I could look into it for you.”
“No thanks,” I cut him off quickly. “I’m good.”
George paused, even his knife stilled. I held my breath, worried he’d figured me out. A moment later, I realized why he’d stalled. Just gathering his thoughts, I guess.
Thank god.
“Have you thought about my offer?” George asked, taking some of the pressure off of me without even realizing it.
“I’ve got some time off prior to visiting you and figured I could start on the website.
Grab pictures while I’m there. Set you up an online presence.
” Before I could awkwardly tell him I didn’t have the money to pay him, he added, “Pro-bono.”
“I can pa—”
“You will do no such thing. That would be like taking candy from a baby. No thank you.”
I made a sound, and George laughed.
As the youngest sibling, I got those kinds of comments a lot.
It didn’t matter that I’d been the one to practically raise my niece, Mavis, for the last few years—and Dad’d trusted me to fix more and more around the house as I’d gotten older. Didn’t matter that I owned my own farm now, or that I was nearly thirty fucking years old.
I was still Joe.
Their baby brother.
All I wanted was for someone in my family to finally respect me.
To see me as capable.
George was my primary motivator.
He was my only brother and god…I’d always thought he was so fucking cool.
He’d moved away from home and made a life for himself in one of the most cutthroat cities in the world.
Even more brave? He’d given up that life and moved back home to start over when he realized how unhappy he’d been.
Never afraid of anything, George. Unless you counted bugs. And—well, snakes? And also—
Anyway.
Didn’t matter.
Point is, I wanted to prove that I could be like him. Even though I’d never had the chance to show it, deep down, I hoped I was every bit as strong as George. I wanted Mom to think I was independent.
I refused to fail again.
And I certainly wasn’t going to spill the beans about the house.
I had an out now.
That’s what I’d been looking for, hadn’t it? A way up.
I just…didn’t know how I felt about the fact that Jason, of all people, was offering it. I’d decided to forgive him after his rather heartfelt apology. He’d been sincere. I could see that. His offer of friendship still perplexed me, but it wasn’t like I was drowning in those.
And…he was a pretty good hugger. And generous. And as abrasive as he could be, so far, there was no denying the fact that he was kind.
But…to accept help outright? After telling Jason for months I wanted nothing of the sort? That was going to take some time to chew over.
It was hard to trust that the Santa Fund was real.
Hard to believe that it could be mine.
That he was offering it to me because he liked me, not because he pitied me. I’d thought that was the case. That he’d taken one look at me in that alleyway the first day we’d met and somehow seen beneath my skin.
Seen that I was struggling—that I was scared.
Seen that I was weaker than I projected.
Seen my contradictions.
And thought I couldn’t handle myself.
But maybe that wasn’t the case.
I was one “yes” away from having the money to solve all my woes. I wanted to believe it, though. Wanted to believe that there was some sort of kindhearted millionaire looking out for me somewhere.
A secret Santa.
I’d been so bound and determined to do all of this on my own, but maybe Jason had a point. Maybe a little financial help wasn’t the end of the world. Like he’d said, even trees that could exist in the wild on their own thrived with a little cultivation.
Maybe Jason was correct.
It didn’t have to mean that I was weak. Maybe in this case…it might even be brave.
Right?