Chapter 9 Ruby
Chapter nine
Ruby
I woke to the sweltering heat and suffocating weight of Dean draped over me. His head rested on my chest, with his hand shoved under my tank top, cupping my breast. His legs were tangled with mine. There was no way I’d be able to escape without waking him up.
Bittersweet warmth bloomed in my heart as I combed my fingers through Dean’s hair. So many years of pining had finally led to this. So many years of trying to stifle my feelings, telling myself that it was wrong and bad and I needed to find someone else more appropriate to fall in love with.
But I still needed to figure out the best way to tell Dad. It probably wouldn’t go over well and I wasn’t looking forward to it.
“Dean,” I whispered.
He mumbled incoherently, tightening his grip on me.
“Dean, I have to go back to my room before Dad wakes up,” I added.
“Five more minutes,” he said, pressing a kiss between my breasts.
I sighed, but a smile touched my lips anyway. If I had a choice, we would stay right here. All day long.
Then a door slammed and a familiar voice echoed through the house.
“Why is it so quiet around here? Don’t tell me Ruby Marianne Kent is still asleep in her bed on Christmas morning?”
My eyes widened and I shoved Dean's shoulder.
“Fuck! Dean—move. Move! It’s my mother,” I hissed.
Disgruntled, he rolled to the side and sat up, scrubbing a hand through his hair. I scrambled out of bed, snatched my shorts, and pulled them on. Frantically, I tiptoed to the door and checked the hallway.
No sign of Mom or Dad, but that could change in an instant. I had to move fast.
“I thought your parents didn’t celebrate Christmas together anymore,” Dean said with a yawn.
My heart jackhammered in my chest while he was sitting there half asleep, unbothered. But he didn’t know what it was like to have a damn bloodhound for a mother.
Dad let me get away with practically murder.
Mom, on the other hand, didn’t let me get away with anything. Ever.
Of course I can tell when you’re up to something, she would say. I’m your mother. I have eyes in the back of my head.
For the longest time, I genuinely believed that. Sometimes—like today—it wouldn’t surprise me if that was freakishly true.
I eased the door shut, lowering my voice so we wouldn’t be overheard.
The clock was ticking though, and chitchat about my current family dynamic was wasting precious seconds I couldn’t afford to lose.
I had to leave before I ran into one—or both—of my parents while I was sneaking out of Dean’s room.
“After Mom had the twins, traveling during the holidays became a nightmare," I said. "The stress was too much. So, we made a deal. Dad and I visit her in Connecticut on Thanksgiving and we have a two-for-one deal. Thanksgiving and Christmas rolled into the same day. It’s crazy, but it works.”
“Then what is she doing here?” Dean prompted.
“I don’t know,” I replied, exasperated. “On the rare occasion that she visits us, it’s always planned for months in advance. She never just shows up.”
He hummed in thought. My gaze swept over him quickly—bare chested, tattooed, sleep-rumpled, with those gray sweatpants that would certainly be the death of me one day. I would have gladly sold my soul for the chance to climb into his arms, straddling his lap, kissing him awake properly.
But there was no time for that.
“I’m sure she has her reasons for dropping by unannounced,” Dean said.
I scoffed.
“Yeah. Her Mom Radar was going off halfway across the country because I was sleeping with my dad’s best friend and she’s here to whip my ass into shape.”
He arched his eyebrows with a chuckle.
“There’s no way she could possibly know that—”
I shot him a look.
“Never mind. I’ll remember to say something nice at your funeral.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Very funny. But you’re forgetting that when I go down, you go down with me.”
Without giving him a chance to reply, I pulled the door open again and slipped into the hallway. Moving as fast as possible, I ducked into my room, grabbed a bathrobe, and finger-combed my hair into a messy ponytail. Donning a bright smile in the mirror, I hurried off to greet Mom.
“Hey! What a surprise!” I held my arms out for a hug.
She was shorter than me by six inches, with her dishwater blonde hair cut into her signature chin-length bob.
I was built like my dad with an athletic figure, while she had full, lush curves that I envied.
“If I had known you were coming, I could have had breakfast on the table, ready and waiting when you arrived.”
Mom dropped two bulging bags of wrapped Christmas presents on the floor as she squeezed my tight.
“Frank and the kids are spending two weeks with his parents, and I thought I’d take advantage of the opportunity to hop a flight, say hello.
It's been forever since we actually spent Christmas together.” She paused and held me at arm's length. “Did you change your perfume? It’s kind of…earthy. Like smoky bourbon or leather.”
A jolt of alarm rocketed up my spine.
My mother could smell Dean’s scent on me. Fuck my life!
Then Dad rounded the corner, still wearing his plaid pajama bottoms and a plain white t-shirt. Mom waved at him with a soft smile of familiarity.
“Hi, honey, I’m home.”
"Hey there, stranger," he replied, pulling her into his embrace.
After more hugging and chatting was exchanged, we migrated into the kitchen.
Mom unloaded her gifts on the table, while I fired up the coffee maker.
Dean finally made an appearance, wearing a snug-fitting dark green henley that accentuated his broad shoulders and biceps.
But he didn’t wear his cut—an unusual occurrence.
“Dean, wow, I haven’t seen you in ages.” Mom patted the chair beside her. “Have a seat. Give me all the dirt you’ve got on Barrett.”
“Honestly, Sharon, I haven’t been around much lately,” Dean replied, sitting next to her. “I quit the Reckless Order and hit the road for the past few years.”
“Really? Any particular reason? That club was your heart and soul for so long.”
He shrugged and flicked a brief glance in my direction.
“I guess I just felt like something was missing.”
“But you’re back now,” Mom pointed out.
“Ruby bullied him into staying for Christmas.” Dad retrieved leftover cake from last night’s dessert, dividing slices onto plates. “She’s been dragging him all over town.”
Mom arched an eyebrow.
“Really? I thought you hated Christmas. Why the change of heart?”
Dean scrubbed at his palm with his thumb, deliberating.
“It felt fake when I was a kid. Even though my folks were at each other’s throats day and night, they still insisted that Christmas had to be perfect. It left a bad taste in my mouth. All that holiday cheer was…”
“Forced,” Mom finished for him with a sympathetic nod.
Dad brought the cake to the table while I handed out cups of coffee. Mom accepted her mug, breathing in the steam for a moment.
“Well, if you hang around Ruby long enough, her infectious Christmas spirit will rub off on you. Fair warning.”
“Dean has been a good sport about everything I’ve put him through,” I said, taking the final seat at the table.
Mom hummed, sipping her coffee.
“That’s what happens when a man falls in love with a woman. He’ll worship the ground she walks on.”
Silence descended on the room. My heart plummeted to my toes. Mom looked serene, fixing me with a steady look across the table.
Dad glanced between me, Mom, and Dean. Then back to me again. I mustered a nervous laugh.
“That’s ridiculous. What are you talking about—?”
“Don’t lie to me, Ruby,” Mom said. Calm. Quiet. Controlled. And utterly deadly.
She had me pinned like a bug to a board. And she’d barely been here for five minutes.
“Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” Dad demanded.
I sighed. The cat was out of the bag now. There was no turning back. Just as I took a breath to speak, Dean rose to his feet. He came to stand behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders.
“It’s true,” he said. “I love your daughter. She’s full of life and spreads joy everywhere she goes. She’s kind and generous, smart and funny.”
Dad frowned.
“And she’s twenty years younger than you.”
Mom touched his arm.
“The age gap—you have to admit, it’s a little intense.”
“There’s a ten year gap between you two,” I countered.
She huffed.
“We’re divorced. Don’t compare your lives to ours. If you want this to work, you have to pave your own way.”
Dad shook his head and put up his hands.
“Wait a minute. How long has this been going on?”
I chewed my lower lip, clutching my coffee cup like my life depended on it.
“Only a few days.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved a sigh.
“Good. It’s still early. I can talk you out of this.”
Mom clucked her tongue.
“Oh, it’s way too late for that, Barrett.”
Dad turned to look at her. She flicked her eyebrows up with a meaningful look. I squirmed in my chair. I hated it when they did this—communicating silently with one glance, as if they were telepathic.
It took a moment for understanding to flash across my father’s face. Then he stood up so fast that his chair toppled over, clattering against the floor.
“You slept with my fucking daughter?” Dad demanded, staring at Dean hard.
“Dad, please, just listen—” I protested.
Dean shifted position to stand beside me and took my hand.
“Yes, I did.”
“I trusted you,” Dad spat. He’d never been this angry before in my life. He was usually so even-tempered, so level-headed.
“And I will understand if you want nothing to do with me after this,” Dean replied.
“You’re my best friend, Barrett. You’ve had my back since we were kids.
But Ruby showed me what I’ve been missing all this time.
What I’ve been looking for. She lights up my world when it has been so dark for so long. ”
A knot formed in my throat as I gazed up at him.
“I know I’ll never deserve her, Barrett,” Dean added. “Believe me.”
“At least you got that part right,” Dad countered in a husky, dry voice.
“But I’ll do everything in my power to make her happy. Every day of my damn life.”
Dad closed his eyes and released a long, heavy breath.
“You got that part right, too.”
Slowly, he sank into his chair. Mom patted his shoulder, rubbing his back. He looked so…tired. Resigned to the truth he didn’t want to accept.
A pause settled over the table, devoid of the previous tension. It seemed as if everyone was simply processing what this revelation would change in the coming future. I traced the ridges and valleys of Dean’s scarred knuckles.
Then Dad let out a humorless laugh.
“The thing is…I think I knew. I just didn’t want to admit it.”
“How?” I asked.
He gestured between us.
“You wouldn’t stop touching him. Every chance you got. And you…” He pointed at Dean. “I swear, I caught you staring at her with goddamn stars in your eyes.”
“Your daughter has that effect on people,” Dean said.
“I’ve noticed,” Dad rasped.
My heart ached for him. I held Dean’s hand tighter.
“We were going to tell you after Christmas," I said. "So we didn’t ruin the holiday for you.”
He shook his head.
“You didn’t ruin anything, Ruby. I’m just…surprised. I need some time to get used to this. I always thought your future husband would be some young buck who took you for granted. But I can see…”
Dad trailed off, studying Dean, then me.
“I can see that won’t be a problem,” he finished.
Sliding out of my seat, I crossed to his side and wrapped my arms around his neck.
“I love him, Dad,” I whispered. “I really, really love him.”
He crushed me in a hug so tight that my ribs creaked from the force of his embrace.
“I know, pumpkin. It’s written all over your face.”
After we broke apart, Mom spoke up.
“Sorry for selling you out, sweetie.”
I snorted.
“Yeah, right. You enjoyed that. Admit it.”
She shrugged, stirring a spoonful of sugar into her coffee. Then she tapped her nose.
“I’m your mother. Do you really think I wouldn’t notice that you smelled like a man had been all over you this morning?”
Dad grimaced with discomfort and scrubbed the back of his neck.
“Jesus, I did not need to know that.”
“You still didn’t have to throw me under the bus, Mom,” I protested.
“Where would be the fun in that?” she countered, breaking off a piece of cake and popping it in her mouth.
“Besides, I’ve watched you flirt all over town for years.
This is the first time I’ve seen you actually in love.
And I figured it was best to yank the Band-Aid off before you got knocked up. You’re not pregnant, are you?”
“Mom,” I groaned, tipping my head back. “Oh my God.”
“Yep, it’s official,” Dad mumbled. “I need a drink.”