Chapter 27 Nathan
NATHAN
Ikeep waiting for something to go wrong.
For my dad to catch on. For my mom to ask why I brought him. But everything has been amazing, ever since we arrived yesterday.
Logan elbows me like a damn five-year-old when he lands on one of my properties in Monopoly. “Your turn,” he says, leaning back, the bottom of his shirt lifting just enough to show a strip of pale skin I’ve already memorized… and licked cum off. My face heats, and I force my eyes back to the board.
“Right. Yeah.” I roll the dice. “Five.”
“Luxury Tax.” He grins. “Pay up, Hayes.”
I let out a groan, handing over the cash. “You’re cheating,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “I can’t prove it, but I just know.”
He laughs, stacking his money in a messy, uneven pile that makes my eye twitch. “Who knew you were so competitive?”
“He gets it from his daddy,” Mom says as she passes behind us, giving Logan a light pat on the shoulder—completely oblivious to the fact that we’re practically playing footsie under the table.
Logan chuckles, and I glance at him before I can stop myself.
He looks too good for his own damn good, wearing plaid pajama bottoms and my old Colton U hoodie. There’s flour on his jaw from when he helped my mom make gingerbread cookies this morning, and it’s taking everything in me not to lean across the table and kiss him in front of everyone.
They have no idea what’s happening between us. No idea that every night, I crawl into his arms. That my body still remembers every way he’s touched me. If they did, I doubt they’d let him sleep in my room, knowing what we get up to in there.
Christmas Eve is basically a mini-Christmas in my family. We spend the whole day in pajamas, watching movies, playing board games, and eating our body weight in chocolate. So, I take full advantage, leaning forward to grab a brownie shaped like a Christmas tree and bite into it.
“I know you rigged this,” Dad grumbles from across the table, squinting down at Mom. “No one gets both Boardwalk and Park Place. It’s statistically impossible.”
I lean back in my chair, popping the rest of my brownie into my mouth. “You say that every year, and every year Mom proves you wrong.”
Isabella laughs from where she’s curled up next to Mom. “Face it, Dad. You’re just bad at Monopoly.”
Dad exhales through his nose, pretending to sulk, but the corner of his mouth lifts anyway when he glances at Mom. “Still love you, even if you bankrupt me every year.”
Mom laughs, reaching across the board to pat his hand. “That’s good, because I plan on doing it again next Christmas. Now hand over your properties.”
I glance at Logan just in time to catch him watching them with something soft in his eyes. His lips twitch when he notices me looking, and he nudges my foot under the table.
The game drags on for what feels like forever—like it always does—and two and a half hours later, Mom wipes the floor with us, bankrupting us all.
Eventually, the board gets packed away and replaced with some snacks and hot chocolate, while we watch whatever Christmas movie Isabella picked.
Logan shifts closer on the couch until his thigh presses against mine. His touch shouldn’t still do things to me, but it does. My pulse kicks up, even though the contact somehow calms me at the same time.
“It’s midnight,” Mom says, her voice bright as she gets up and moves toward the tree.
Izzy lets out a little squeal and pops to her feet. “Merry Christmas!” she says, throwing her arms around me.
I laugh, hugging her back, squeezing once before she bounces toward the tree. I turn my head to look at Logan, who’s confused as hell. “At midnight, we each open one present.”
He chuckles. “Because waiting eight more hours would just be so cruel.”
I roll my eyes and lift off the couch, grabbing the small box I wrapped a few days ago, and walk over to him. “Merry Christmas.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “You got me something?”
I smile. “Just open it.”
He looks at me for a beat longer than normal before reaching out to take it. He tears into the wrapping paper, impatient like a kid, and when the box finally opens, he lets out a laugh.
Inside is a black mug with Rookie of the Year printed in bold white letters.
He grins, shaking his head. “You did not.”
“Oh, I did,” I say, biting back a smile.
He lowers the mug, looking up at me with those soft green eyes, and smiles. “Thank you. I love it.”
“It’s just a joke gift,” I say, even though his grin’s already making my chest tighten.
His hand shifts, locking his pinky with mine when no one’s watching. “Yeah, but it’s mine.”
It takes a while for the night to wind down, and when the end credits start rolling, I stretch, rubbing a hand over my face. “Alright,” I murmur. “I’m gonna head up before I pass out.”
Mom’s asleep against Dad’s chest, and Izzy’s half-asleep, her eyes fluttering closed, but she still manages to mumble something that might be night without opening her eyes.
Logan stands, helping me clear the coffee table, heading to the kitchen to wash up the dishes before we head upstairs.
I kick the door closed and flick off the light, leaving only the dim glow from the hallway sneaking under the crack. Logan kicks his shoes off, then peels off his socks and flicks them toward the laundry basket. They hit the wall, bounce off, and land nowhere near it.
A snort escapes me. “Real romantic.”
He grins. “I can strip to Santa Baby if you’d prefer.”
I arch an eyebrow. “I think I’m good.”
He laughs under his breath and reaches out, tugging lightly on the hem of my T-shirt. “Come here, Hayes.”
I let him pull me in.
His arms slide around my waist, and we just stand there, chest to chest. I didn’t realize how tightly wound I was before him, but I just melt whenever he’s near me, especially when his fingers run across my back.
I lean in, press a kiss to his forehead, and he huffs out a breath.
“Okay,” he says. “That was condescending.”
I blink, pulling back slightly. “What?”
He tips his head up to look at me, his brows tugging together. “Forehead kisses are for short people.”
I snort. “You know I’m taller than you, right?”
“By an inch,” Logan says, arching a brow.
“An inch still counts.”
A taunting smile pulls at his lips, his gaze dipping briefly before lifting again. “Good thing I’m an inch bigger somewhere else,” he replies, shooting me a wink.
Heat curls low in my stomach. “You’re not funny,” I tell him, even as my mouth betrays me.
He chuckles, tightening his hold on my waist. “Thanks for today,” he murmurs. “Your family’s incredible.”
I lean in and press another kiss to his forehead. “You’re welcome, baby.”
He stills, his brows shooting up to his hairline.
“What?” I ask, frowning down at him.
“You just called me baby.”
I blink. “Did I?”
“Yep.” His smile grows wider.
I huff out a quiet laugh, raking my fingers through his hair. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
He leans in closer, eyes still on mine. “Gonna start calling me that all the time now?”
“Don’t push it,” I say, rolling my eyes, but he’s already laughing as he tugs off his sweatshirt before crawling into bed.
I peel off my shirt, toss it to the floor, and slide in beside him. The sheets are cool against my skin, but he isn’t. He shifts closer immediately, fitting himself against me like he’s done it a hundred times.
His fingers find my jaw, tracing down my neck, over my chest, slow and lazy. “You’re really warm,” he murmurs.
“You’re really cold,” I say, shivering when his fingertips graze my ribs. “You should’ve dried your hands after doing the dishes.”
He grins and burrows closer, the blanket shifting with him. “Good thing we’re sharing a bed, huh?”
I laugh quietly, glancing at the inflatable mattress in the corner—the one he hasn’t touched since my parents dragged it out of the attic.
He settles closer until his head rests against my chest.
“Your mom hugged me like a million times today,” he says after a while.
“She did?”
He nods, letting out a soft laugh. “I almost cried like a little bitch the first time.”
A small laugh escapes me and I stare at the ceiling for a second, my throat tightening. I don’t know how long he’s gone without hugging his mom. I can’t even imagine spending the holidays without family.
“You can cry if you want,” I tell him.
He snorts, smiling against my skin. “You’re such a sap.”
I nudge his shoulder. “Shut up.”
He looks up at me, those green eyes I see in my dreams a little sleepy but still somehow so bright. “It was a good day.”
“Yeah,” I say, my lips tugging into a smile. “It was.”
He’s quiet for a long time, his thumb still brushing small circles against my ribs. “I like being here.”
I meet his eyes. “I like having you here. I’m glad you have someone to spend the holidays with.”
Something flickers in his expression and then he exhales, his breath warming my neck. “I haven’t had a present since I was sixteen.”
I still. “What?”
He shrugs, his eyes dropping to the blanket. “I didn’t tell you that to make it a thing. I just… forgot what that felt like. Opening something. Knowing someone thought of me—bought it, wrapped it.” He lets out a laugh. “It was dumb, but it made me feel… I don’t know. Like I existed.”
Something tightens in my chest. I can’t breathe when he looks at me like that.
He lifts a hand, brushing his fingers through my hair, the pads of them warm against my scalp. “You make me feel like I matter, Hayes.”
I can’t speak. Every word I could say feels too small.
I want to tell him he does matter—that no one ever has the way he does—but the words stick, thick in my throat. So I kiss him instead.
It starts off slow, but it quickly deepens when he sighs against my mouth and I pour everything I can’t say into this kiss. The gratitude, the ache for him, the way he’s carved himself into every part of me.
My hand slides over his stomach, feeling the tight, hard muscles and the fast thud of his heartbeat probably matching mine.