Chapter Two #2
And it only took me a second to see he wasn’t packing for a vacation.
Unless he was planning on celebrating Christmas in Vienna in a suit and tie, that was.
Which, honestly, wouldn’t have been totally out of left field when it came to Scout and the Talbot-Smiths, but we’d been dating for a while now, and I had learned to tell the difference between a business suit and a dinner suit.
And those were ties he was packing. So either there was some international dress code I wasn’t aware of or Scout wasn’t vacationing in Vienna.
“What’s this?” I asked while Scout stared at me like a critter caught in a porch light. “Planning on interviewing for jobs in Austria?”
“Uh.” Scout Talbot-Smith was only rarely stuck for words, and since I hadn’t just sucked his brains out through his dick, I knew it couldn’t be anything good.
I didn’t know what Scout had going on or why he was lying about it, but there was no point in avoiding the conversation now—whatever it turned out to be—and we both knew it. I’d caught him dead to rights.
I closed the bedroom door so we wouldn’t be disturbed and said, “Spill.”
Scout picked up a necktie and folded it into a tidy square, then unfolded it, then folded it again while I waited. His expression was as haughty as always, but the flush in his cheeks told me he was rattled. He finally set the necktie into his suitcase and said, “I’m going to DC instead of Vienna.”
I hummed. “Ah, yes, DC. So magical at Christmas.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’m going after Christmas. For three weeks. I’ll be working for Justice McDaniel while one of his staffers is on leave.” He picked up the tie again. Folded it again. Unfolded it.
I kept my voice even, though all the while my brain was spinning. “For the Supreme Court? That’s a hell of an opportunity.”
“That’s what my father said,” Scout said. “When he told me.” He pressed his mouth into a thin line and shot me a look. “It’s not a big deal or anything, though.”
Well, he was wrong about that, but I let it go.
“Okay, so what’s the deal with Christmas?” I asked.
“That’s when we celebrate the birth of Christ, Trey,” he told me. “Savior of all mankind.”
“Smart-ass. What’s the deal, specifically, with you and this Christmas?”
Scout dropped his gaze to his suitcase and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “I’ll be here.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “Didn’t quite catch that, baby.”
He scowled. “I said I’ll be here. It’s fine.” He shrugged. “I have to be in DC on the twenty-eighth, so I’ll drive up then.”
I was dating a fucking idiot.
But before I could open my mouth and tell him that, he said, “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
He gave a half-hearted sneer. “I don’t want some pity invitation to your family’s Christmas, okay? I’m fine.”
I was dating an idiot and a liar, but I knew better than to push him.
You pushed Scout, and he built so many walls around him in a millisecond that you could spend your lifetime trying to break through them and never get close to him again.
Scout hated thinking he was in debt to anyone—especially emotionally—and he hated accepting help.
Which was ironic considering how secretly generous he was.
But with Scout, it was a case of being able to dish it out but not being able to take it.
So I let it go, at least for now.
“So an internship at the Supreme Court. Wow, that’s sure something.”
Scout narrowed his gaze, like he was searching for sarcasm.
He wouldn’t find it. He shrugged again. “It’s whatever.
” Then he huffed out a breath, and his indifference shattered.
“It’s bullshit. It’ll just be coffee orders and picking up dry cleaning, and somehow it’s worth something?
And the stupid thing is, I know it’s worth something.
It shouldn’t be, but it is. And the only reason I got offered it is because my father knows Justice McDaniel. ”
I hummed and nodded.
Scout’s scowl deepened. “It’s stupid, and it’s not even fair. It’s not like I need any more advantages handed to me.”
“It’s cute how you think you need to explain to me that society isn’t fair, baby,” I said, unable to hide my smile. “Is that why you kept it a secret? In case my poor disadvantaged self got bent all out of shape that it wasn’t me?”
“You’re a better student than me, and you’ll be a better lawyer than me!” He flushed all the way to the roots of his blond hair.
He wasn’t wrong. And that wasn’t me bragging.
“Scout, get over here,” I said.
He glared at me.
“Scout.”
He sighed and dragged his feet as he closed the space between us.
I hauled him into an embrace. It was like trying to hug a porcupine. “No, it’s not fair that you get opportunities I don’t because of who your daddy is and because you’re rich and white. And you know what? It pisses me off too, but that’s not on you, okay?”
“It’s dumb,” he muttered into my shoulder.
“No, what would be dumb is if you didn’t grab every one of those opportunities with both hands. Because you know that if you don’t, there’ll be a dozen other mediocre white boys ready to take your place.”
Scout pulled back and arched an outraged eyebrow at me. “You did not just call me mediocre.”
“Baby,” I said, fake innocence honeying my tone, “I’m just calling it like I see it.”
It could have gone either way, but Scout rose to the occasion and snorted out a laugh. “Asshole.”
Some of the tension left his frame, so I took a chance and said, “So, Christ—”
“I already said I’m fine,” he said. “I’m not going to crash your family Christmas.”
And just like that, his spine was rigid again and I could see those walls starting to go up.
“Baby,” I said. “You know you’d be welcome.”
Scout rolled his eyes at me and moved out of my embrace. He stalked back to his suitcase. “I already said no, Trey.”
“What?” I asked. “You’re saying you’d turn down the chance to come and try Momma’s Christmas turkey? And get given two different types of festive-scented bodywash from the Dollar Tree that come out of her emergency ‘guests we weren’t expecting but turned up anyway’ stash?”
He didn’t laugh this time. He shot me a sour look instead. “I’m staying here,” he said and closed his suitcase with a finality that told me this conversation was over. “It’s fine.”
It rankled that he was being so stubborn over this, but I didn’t know what else I’d expected, honestly.
Scout hated anyone feeling sorry for him, even though that wasn’t what this was—not even a little bit.
He really did think I was inviting him just because he had nowhere else to go, not because I might actually love the chance to spend Christmas with him, and I knew there was nothing I could say to convince him otherwise.
It might have been nice to think he wanted to spend Christmas with me too.
But instead he was playing the martyr, and we were both missing out on what could have been something special.
“Fine,” I said. “Enjoy your sad boy Christmas.”
“Calling me a sad boy would imply I have emotions, so fuck you,” Scout said.
“I mean I would normally take you up on that offer, but your suitcase is on the bed,” I said, “so no.”
On another day, admittedly one where hell had frozen over, Scout might have taken that as a joke. But I’d known he wouldn’t, even before I said it. I said it anyway, though, because he’d hurt me first. I wasn’t proud of it, but there it was.
Scout shot me with a look that was meant to murder, but if he had any scathing reply to go with that look, I didn’t hear it. I was out the door before he could reply.
Marty was digging around in the refrigerator for leftover pizza when I went into the kitchen in desperate need of a beer.
“Hey,” he said around a mouthful of pepperoni. “Did you fix Scout?”
I let out a long, guilty breath. “No, I think I made it worse.”
“You made it worse?” he clarified. “You, and not him?”
“Me,” I admitted and told him what had happened.
Marty chewed his way through an entire piece of pizza while he ruminated on what I’d said, and then he punched me in the shoulder, grinned, and said something that he probably meant to be reassuring but had me low-key terrified. “Leave it to me, bro. I got this.”