Chapter 11 #2
But more importantly, this place was home. It was where Leo had his room decorated with dinosaurs, where Avery had her pink princess room for when she stayed over, and where Estelle had slowly but surely made her mark on every space.
“Oh!” Leo exclaimed as we pulled into the circular driveway. "The Christmas decorations are still up!"
I followed his gaze to the house, which was indeed still decorated for the holidays—garland draped along the rooflines, a massive wreath on the front door, lights twinkling from every window.
Not the elaborate winter wonderland I'd briefly considered having installed, but tasteful, warm, and welcoming.
Home for Christmas.
As we climbed out of the SUVs, Avery immediately raced toward the front door, Leo hot on her heels. Estelle followed at a more sedate pace, her hand finding mine as we walked up the familiar path.
"Thank you," she said quietly, leaning sideways to brush her soft cheek against my arm.
"For what, princess?"
"For this. For them being here, for making sure Leo didn't have to wait another second longer to see us. For..." she gestured vaguely at the house, the SUVs in the driveway, the sound of children's laughter echoing from inside. "For all of it."
I stopped walking and turned to face her properly, my hands framing her face as I looked down into those honey eyes that had completely captured my heart.
"You don't have to thank me for loving you," I murmured quietly. "Or for loving him. This is what family does, princess. We take care of each other."
She stood on her toes to kiss me, right there in the driveway with our friends and family watching, not caring about anything except the man in front of her.
"I love you, Jax Easton."
"I love you too, Estelle Moore.” I gently squeezed her against me. "Now come inside before the kids decide to redecorate the living room again."
Tomorrow, Wade would be landing with his own flair, and the house would be full of the people I loved most in the world.
The smell of cinnamon, nutmeg, and butter wafted through every corner of the house, mingling with the pine scent from our massive live Christmas tree and the candles Jovie had lit on every surface.
Christmas Eve morning at the Easton beach house was pure, beautiful chaos, exactly the kind I’d been raised with.
The entire house looked like Christmas spirit in the best possible way. Red velvet bows adorned every window, and Leo had put his own flair into decorating by placing his figurines all around the tree.
Christmas carols played softly, barely audible over the delighted squeals coming from the living room where the kids were having a battle with their early presents beneath our twelve-foot tree.
It was covered in a mix of elegant gold and silver ornaments alongside handmade decorations the kids had crafted, with presents spilling out from underneath in perfectly wrapped piles.
In the kitchen, Estelle, Jovie, and Isla had transformed the massive marble island into Christmas Central. They wore matching red aprons over their festive clothing and were working much harder than I’d like.
Every surface was covered with Christmas: more cooling racks of cookies, a massive glazed ham studded with cloves, and an explosion of different dishes.
"Princess, you sure you don't want help with that twenty-pound beast?" I called out, adjusting my own Santa hat as Estelle wrestled with the turkey that was almost as big as she was.
"I've got it!" she replied, though her Santa hat had shifted askew and there was flour streaked across her apron. "Just need to get this monster seasoned up.”
She was wearing a knitted sweater and a short skirt with stockings—pure temptation for my eternally hard dick.
Jovie moved between them like Christmas herself in her red dress and matching Santa hat, hands covered in flour.
"Dad better get here soon," she called over her shoulder. "Someone needs to help with the gingerbread house, and we all know I'm architecturally challenged."
From the living room came Leo and Avery's delighted battle cries. Leo, sporting a Santa sweater and hat that kept slipping over his eyes, was having a standoff between his dinosaur army and Avery's sparkly unicorn cavalry.
Avery, dressed in a pink tutu over red tights and her own glittery Santa hat, provided enthusiastic sound effects for both sides.
"The T. rex is gonna eat your unicorn!" Leo announced dramatically, making roaring sounds.
"No way! Princess Sparkle has magic powers!" Avery shot back, waving her unicorn in the air. "She's gonna make him fall asleep with rainbow glitter!"
I had to grin at that. Leave it to a five-year-old to find the advantage of weaponized sparkles.
Near the kitchen island, Sierra was engaged in what appeared to be a surveillance operation. She wore a sage dress, complete with a pointy elf hat, and her eyes were laser-focused on Toffee as the cat prowled the perimeter of the cooking area with obvious criminal intent.
"Connor," she whispered urgently, tugging on his red shirt, "he's eyeing the turkey again. I think he's planning a heist."
Connor, looking surprisingly festive, was taking Sierra's cat-monitoring duties with complete seriousness. "I see him. You want a diversion?"
"Yes, but be subtle. He's smart—if he figures out we're onto him, he'll just wait until we're distracted."
I watched as Connor Graves himself began to redirect Toffee’s attention using a feather toy shaped like a candy cane. Only Sierra could turn the Killer into a festive cat whisperer.
The newest addition to our chaos was Crew, Isla's now nineteen-year-old brother, who'd shown up this morning glowing with excitement.
He was practically vibrating as he helped arrange a colorful fruit tray, his face lit up like he was living his best life. He wore a green sweater that showed off the muscle he'd gained from training, and his Santa hat sat at a perfectly jaunty angle.
"Crew," Isla called from where she was arranging Christmas cookies, "want to help with the mashed potatoes?"
“Yes, ma’am!” he replied immediately, swaggering over with energy that came from being around his heroes. He’d filled out significantly since Adrian had started training him in his home gym—broader shoulders, muscular arms, moving with new confidence.
"Adrian's been teaching me about fight nutrition," Crew was saying to Isla as he washed his hands. "Did you know the glycemic index of—"
"Nerd alert!" Adrian called out from where he was arranging a cheeseboard shaped like a Christmas tree.
He wore the most ridiculous Christmas sweater I'd ever seen—bright red with a giant sequined Santa face and bells that jingled every time he moved. His Santa hat had battery fucking LED lights that blinked in rhythm with the carols.
Crew flipped him off behind his back.
Adrian appeared beside me, carrying what looked like his fourth cup of coffee, topped with enough whipped cream and cinnamon to count as a dessert.
“Daddy Easton’s cutting it close," he observed, checking his watch. "Didn't he say 10:30?”
I glanced at the time—10:28. Wade Easton had many qualities, but lateness wasn't one of them. The man ran his life punctually, mainly because he expected the world to operate on his timeline.
"He'll be here," I replied confidently. "Probably just making sure Thomas has all the presents loaded properly. You know how Dad gets—”
The sound of car doors slamming in the driveway cut me off, followed immediately by Leo and Avery's delighted shrieks from the living room.
"GRANDPA!" they called in unison, abandoning their toy war to race toward the front door.
I heard it open, followed by Dad's distinctive laugh—warm, rich, and genuinely delighted. "There are my favorite troublemakers! Did you grow while I was gone? You both seem taller."
"We are!" Avery announced proudly, bouncing on her toes. “Mommy measured us yesterday, and I'm still taller than Leo!”
Leo made an adorable sound. "Grandpa says height doesn't matter. It's about what's in here." He tapped his chest seriously.
"Smart boy," came Dad's approving voice. "Now, I seem to remember someone promising to show me their new dinosaur collection..."
The sound of expensive Italian leather on marble announced his approach before he appeared in the kitchen doorway, and I felt that familiar surge of pride.
At forty-six, Dad was still everything I aspired to be—tall, strong, impeccably dressed even for Christmas morning, with effortless Easton confidence.
Today, he wore perfectly tailored charcoal slacks and a cashmere Christmas sweater in deep forest green.
His silver-streaked platinum hair was styled with just enough casualness to look effortless, and everything about him screamed old money and pedigree.
"There's my boy," he greeted with that megawatt smile, stepping forward to pull me into one of his trademark embraces, firm and warm.
"Dad," I replied, welcoming his familiar embrace.
"DADDY EASTON!" Adrian practically shrieked, abandoning his cheese arrangement to launch himself at Dad like an overgrown puppy.
"You made it! Merry Christmas! Look at my hat—it lights up!"
Dad hugged Adrian easily, laughing as he was nearly bowled over by enthusiastic affection. "Adrian, you chaos gremlin. That sweater is absolutely hideous. I love it."
"I knew you would! Here, you need this."
Adrian yanked a spare Santa hat off the couch, because of course he had extras, and plopped it directly onto Dad's perfectly styled head, completely messing up his hair. "There! Now you're properly festive."
The sight of Wade Easton, billionaire business mogul, wearing a slightly crooked Santa hat with his expensive cashmere was priceless.
And the fact that he just smiled and adjusted it rather than removing it showed exactly why we all adored him.
"Much better," Dad joked, then turned to survey our Christmas chaos with obvious delight.