CHRISTMAS #4 WITHOUT MY GIRL
PATRICK
I woke up with another number in my head. Four. Today was the fourth Christmas I’d be spending without Addi. I really wished I would stop counting every single fucking thing when it came to her, but it was some sick habit I’d picked up and couldn’t seem to stop.
That text she’d sent the other day flooded me with relief. I hadn’t realized just how worked up I’d been over those photographs until I got her message, letting me know that she wasn’t dating that jerkoff, Jamison. I’d desperately needed to know that fact, and I was pretty sure I had my younger brother to thank for it. Or kill for it. I’d decide which one when I saw him later.
Addi never sent another message after the reply I’d sent her, but I’d expected as much. Even though I hated it. I wanted to hear more, like how she missed me, still loved me, and hated living without me. I was an emotional roller coaster whenever it came to her. Wanting all of her attention all the time and then pushing her away for giving it to me whenever she did.
See, if my girl wasn’t coming back home, I couldn’t keep her in my life. Because eventually, she’d move on. Just because she hadn’t done so with the guy in the pictures didn’t mean that she never would. And I couldn’t watch that happen, even if I was only viewing it online.
Seeing her with someone else, with a guy who wasn’t me, would make me want to pull my eyes clean out and burn the memory from my brain. I wouldn’t handle it well.
Reaching for my phone, I read her message one more time, even though I’d already read it a hundred times.
I was tempted to text her Merry Christmas , but I stopped myself, the way I always seemed to. My self-control was damn near award-winning.
I decided to take a shower before heading over to my dad’s farm for all our Christmas festivities. I walked into the shower and turned both showerheads on high heat. I’d built this main shower for two people—for me and Addison. She always used to complain about how cold it was, waiting her turn whenever we showered together, and I had known the solution—double showerheads.
Memories of us together flashed in my mind, and I was instantly hard as a rock. Her body had been made for mine. Her ass used to press firmly against my thighs, and it’d only take a little adjusting to allow me inside from behind.
Closing my eyes, I swore I could almost feel her here with me. Her skin had always been so smooth; it used to turn me on every time one of my callous fingers ran across it.
She’d claimed to like my rough edges.
I lived for her soft ones.
“Fuck, I miss you, Addi,” I said into the empty room, my hand reaching for my dick and stroking.
I saw her with me. Felt her touching me. Smelled her everywhere. The memories became a living thing that overtook my senses. I ran my hand over my cock, stroking and pulling, while my other hand braced against the cold tiles.
“Addi,” I breathed out as the room filled with steam.
I couldn’t stop now. I was on the edge, so close to tipping over it. When I pictured her bent over in the shower, her perfect ass in the air for me as I fucked her from behind, I came undone.
I exploded with her name on my lips and a mess on my hand. As I came down from my high, reality crashed into me. Slowly, I stopped stroking myself and let the water rinse me clean.
Even jerking off to thoughts of her was downright torture. Because every time I opened my eyes, she still wasn’t here. And that fact alone was slowly tearing me apart from the inside out.
I shut off the water, stepped out, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my waist before catching sight of my reflection in the fogged-up mirror. Stopping short, I wiped a hand across it and leaned in to stare at my face. You would have thought after what I’d just done that I’d look at least a little bit relaxed, but I didn’t. My features were tensed, my eyes pulled together like I was in pain.
Shaking my head, I tried to rid my thoughts of Addison as I got dressed, but it was no use. She was a part of me that I couldn’t extract. So much of my life had been intertwined with hers; it was hard to unravel it all.
Sucking in a deep breath, I shifted my focus toward Christmas at my dad’s and the best niece on the planet. Thank God for Clarabel. She was the absolute best thing when it came to the holidays. The pure joy she exuded was something that we had each needed at one point or another. That little girl had no idea that she saved us O’Grady men from ourselves.
And we all spoiled her rotten, each one of us competing for her affection. I still knew she loved me best though. I’d built her a damn room in this house. I’d be her favorite uncle forever.
I grabbed the ridiculous amount of presents I’d bought for her and went to work on tossing them into my old beat-up truck, Jasper right on my heels the entire time.
“Ready, boy?” I asked as soon as I put in the last of them.
He wagged his tail and hopped into the passenger seat, where Addi used to sit.
“Let’s go,” I said, and he looked at me as I revved the engine to life and drove off.
Christmas music played through my radio speakers, and I didn’t have the heart to turn it off. Not today, of all days. I found myself singing along as I turned onto the long dirt road that led to the family farm.
When I parked my truck next to Matthew’s monstrosity, I realized I was the last one to arrive. Everyone else was already here. I hated being late, even though I technically wasn’t. Stepping out of my truck, I held the door open for Jasper, who jumped out and made a beeline for the back door, barking loud enough to announce our arrival.
I watched as the door swung open, and Clara’s little face appeared as she lunged at Jasper, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him the way she always did. Jasper let her hang on him, his tail wagging the entire time. The two of them disappeared inside the house, and my youngest brother appeared in their place. He gave me a look like he couldn’t quite gauge my mood.
“Get over here and help me,” I shouted, and he hustled over without question.
“Trying to buy someone’s love?” he asked like the smart-ass he was.
“I bet you bought her more,” I said as I loaded his arms up with the gifts.
He laughed a little before shifting on his feet. “So, uh, did you hear from Addison?” he asked as he tried to look around the stack of presents, but I’d buried him up to his eyes.
I swallowed hard. “Why are you asking? Did you text her or something?”
“I might have,” he responded before adding, “Let me go put these in the house before you yell at me.”
I grumbled under my breath in response, but followed behind him, my own arms filled with gifts. The two of us dropped the hoard of presents at the base of our dad’s massive Christmas tree. He always got the biggest one he could cut down. This one looked as tall as it was wide. I kind of loved it. Addison would have adored it.
Ugh.
“Did you guys rob a toy store?” Thomas asked.
I whipped around to see him sitting on the couch, Brooklyn on his lap.
They looked really fucking happy. A stab of jealousy quickly tore through my body before it left.
“Hey, son.” My dad wrapped me in a hug before whispering, “A bit much, don’t you think?”
“Always,” I answered. “There’s still more. We’ll be right back.”
I reached for the sleeve of Matthew’s shirt and gave it a tug, pulling him out with me.
The second we were back outside, I turned on him. “I told you not to reach out to her.”
I gave his shoulder a shove, but he barely even moved. I hated that he was the taller and bigger one out of the three of us.
“What can I say? I’m bad at listening.” He shrugged as he grabbed the last few gifts that remained in my truck. “And you all know it. So, did she text you or what?”
“Yeah. She said it wasn’t a date.” I ran my hand through my hair, which was constantly hanging in my eyes now.
“Good. Get a haircut,” Matthew said. “And you’re welcome, by the way.”
“Welcome for what?” Thomas suddenly appeared outside, looking a little pale.
He was proposing to Brooklyn today, and I’d almost forgotten, I’d been so wrapped up in my own head.
“He talked to Addison,” Matthew announced, and I willed him to keep his voice down.
I didn’t need our dad or Clara hearing her name because then neither one of them would stop bringing her up.
“You talked to her?” Thomas couldn’t hide the surprise in his tone.
“She sent me a text.” I tried to sound unbothered, but I was so fucking bothered.
“What’d she say? Why are you making me drag this out of you? Tell me.” Thomas sounded so excited, and it should have been a little awkward, but it wasn’t.
My whole family had always loved Addison. How could they not?
“She said it wasn’t a date.” I knew I sounded relieved, even though I tried to hide it.
“That’s a good thing, right?” Thomas asked.
He waited for me to say something, but I just stared at him with my mouth closed.
“I think it’s a good thing. I didn’t want it to be a date. Did you want it to be a date, Matthew?”
“Hell no, I didn’t want it to be a date,” Matthew responded, his arms still full.
“Stop saying that word. Jesus. It wasn’t a date. That’s all she said. He’s friends with Sarina. She’s not coming home. Everyone needs to get over it,” I ground out suddenly, my jaw clenching with each word.
“Did she say she wasn’t coming home?” Thomas’s eyebrows pulled together. His look of excitement was long gone now.
Why do my brothers take everything so literally?
“No. She didn’t say that. Can we just have a nice Christmas, please? You didn’t forget the ring, did you?” I asked, maneuvering the focus from my failed relationship to my older brother’s blossoming one.
“Be quiet,” Thomas snapped as he gave a head nod toward the house. “And, no, I didn’t forget it. I’m not Matthew.”
“Hey,” Matthew interjected.
“We all know if anyone would forget the ring on the day they’re proposing, it would be you,” Thomas said matter-of-factly.
“But you’d still manage to pull it off without it,” I added because it was true.
If anyone could swing a marriage proposal without a ring, it would be our little brother. He oozed charm from every damn pore on his body. The ladies loved him. All he’d have to do was smile at some girl, and she’d be screaming yes.
“It’s cold as fuck out here. Can we please go back inside?” Matthew whined before he started walking away.
“Let’s go get you a wife.” I grinned at Thomas, and I watched as his face took on an expression I’d rarely seen before.
He was truly happy, and he deserved every second of it.
It was tradition in the O’Grady house to torture the children. Okay, maybe torture was the wrong word, but who else made you eat first before you opened any presents? My dad—that was who.
Clara spent half the meal staring at the Christmas tree and asking, “Are those really all for me?”
“Not all, but most,” Thomas answered with a soft smile before leveling each one of us men with a disapproving glare.
We’d gone overboard. Every year, we said we wouldn’t do it again, but every year, we failed. Clara didn’t need half of this stuff, but none of us seemed to be able to stop ourselves when it came to her.
“I think it’s sweet,” Brooklyn said with a smile that was the complete opposite of Thomas’s expression. “Do you know how lucky you are?” she asked Clara.
Clara nodded her head as she spooned the last of her mashed potatoes into her mouth. “Mmhmm.” We all watched as she finished chewing and took a long drink of milk. “I know how lucky I am, Mama. And not ’cause of the presents,” she said.
I swore we all started tearing up. Or at least, I did.
“You’re right, sweet girl,” my dad said as he pushed his plate away. “We’re all lucky to have each other. You almost ready to start opening your gifts?” he asked, and Clara shook her head. “No? You’re not?”
“I mean, I am, Papa, but…”
She whipped her head to look at her dad. He put his finger to his lips to remind her that the proposal was a secret, and she stopped talking.
“What’s going on?” my dad asked, and I realized that Thomas hadn’t clued him in on what he was about to do.
I assumed in all the excitement and nervousness, he’d forgotten. Our dad hated being left out, but he’d get over it. He’d be happy more than anything else.
“I just, um,” Clara babbled, “want to give Mama Waffles a present first.”
Brooklyn looked confused. Not at the nickname Clara had called her, but at her statement. “But we already had Christmas at our house this morning,” she said, clearly not even remotely aware of what was about to come.
“Let’s go to the tree,” my dad commanded, and we all pushed out of our chairs, leaving our dirty dishes on the table and taking our places in the living room.
Brooklyn still looked confused as she made her way onto the couch, but Matthew and I knew what was coming. I stood next to my old man and nudged his shoulder with mine before tapping my ring finger. His blue eyes lit up, and a grin took over his whole face as he whipped out his cell phone and opened the Camera app. I glanced over at Matthew and noticed he was doing the same, even though he was pretending to type.
Thomas searched in the sea of presents for a box that was way too big to hold the ring he’d bought. He handed it to Clara, who ran over to Brooklyn and practically shoved it into her hands.
“Open it, Mama Waffles! Open it!” Clara danced and spun around, her little hands clapping like crazy.
Brooklyn tore open the paper to reveal another box inside. Wrapped again. This continued for a ridiculous amount of time until she reached the final box. The one with the ring inside. When she opened the velvet case, my brother dropped to one knee as Clara squealed and dropped to her knees as well. It was fucking adorable.
“Little Runner, I can’t imagine life without you. I never thought I’d meet someone I’d trust and love enough to raise Clarabel with. But then you stepped into our life and completely changed it. I don’t want to spend another day without you as my wife. Without you as Clarabel’s mama. Tell me you’ll marry us. Make us the happiest damn family in all of Sugar Mountain,” Thomas said as he wiped at his eyes, and I had to check my own to make sure they weren’t leaking.
“Will you marry us, Mama? Marry us! Marry me!” Clara said before my brother could even say another thing, and we all started laughing around our emotions.
I reached my arms out toward my niece to give Thomas and Brooklyn a moment to themselves. “Come here, monkey.”
“I’m not a monkey,” she whined as she pushed up and ran toward me anyway, hopping into my arms.
“You’re my monkey,” I said against her hair.
My brother spoke softly to his future bride. It must have been sappy and sweet because Brooklyn started crying harder before she threw herself in his arms and searched around for Clara.
She waved her over, and Clara jostled to get out of my grasp. Once I let her go, she went flying right toward her dad and launched herself at him. The three of them hugged and cried and stared at Brooklyn’s ring like it was the most beautiful thing in the room.
“Got it all on video,” my dad said with a wink as he looked between the happy couple and me.
“Good job, old man.”
“Better than you. You didn’t even take out your phone,” he said, clearly judging, but he was right.
Even before I realized that both he and Matthew had it covered, filming the proposal hadn’t even occurred to me.
“You and Matthew can compete for world’s best proposal video.” I nodded toward his youngest son, who was taking still shots with his phone from every angle.
I wasn’t even sure Brooklyn or Thomas noticed; they were so caught up in the moment.
“Do you like the ring? He was worried you wouldn’t.” Matthew stopped taking pictures and reached for Brooklyn’s hand, ending their private moment.
Leave it to him to literally say that out loud.
Brooklyn’s eyes locked on Thomas before she held her left hand in front of her face and inspected the ruby-red ring. “Are you kidding? I love it. It’s perfect.”
“You’re perfect, Mama,” Clara said with a smile as she hugged her again, her tiny arms wrapped tight around Brooklyn’s neck.
“Thank you, sweet girl. Maybe we can get you a little one to match?” Brooklyn asked, and Clara started jumping.
“I want a ring like Mama’s!”
“Great.” Thomas grinned before shaking his head.
My dad walked away from me and toward the group. “You’ve already been a part of the family, Brooklyn, but this makes it official. I couldn’t be happier for the three of you,” he said before giving them each hugs, his eyes finally spilling over as he hugged his oldest son.
Damn.
This was the mushiest O’Grady Christmas on record. Addi would have loved every single second of it.