Chapter 9 – Lacey
Chapter Nine
Lacey
I’m still reeling from my session with Wilder hours later. My head isn’t really in the game, and that leads to me only half-listening when Charlotte corners me in the break room as I’m heading out after my last client.
“It’s just a cute little family friendly Christmas festival. My kid has begged to go nonstop. I’m off tomorrow night, so I was thinking about taking him. Would you want to come with us?” she asks, rocking on her heels.
My head tilts.
Some of my favorite memories of my childhood were of my mom taking me to the Christmas market. All the little stands with food and hot chocolate, standing in line to meet Santa, and being able to color pictures with the elves.
“Yeah, I’d love to. I work tomorrow, but if I don’t have anyone on the books, I’ll have them block me off or leave early. Just text me the details, and I’ll meet you there.”
I kinda hoped Callum would stop by after I got home from work, but he doesn’t. I spend the evening watching Christmas movies and reading articles about the market I’ll be going to with Charlotte and her son.
There’s no getting out of my four-p.m. appointment the next day, so I head in and handle that. Once it’s done, I dress in black leggings, a long-sleeve T-shirt, my wool coat, and scarf and head a few blocks away to meet Charlotte.
Her son is as cute as can be. His name is Lukas, but his mom calls him Lucky, so I do too. He’s three, and he chatters nonstop. The little guy never stops moving, and it’s fun seeing all the holiday magic through the eyes of a child.
I don’t think kids are in the cards for me personally, but I don’t dislike tiny humans. It’s more like I don’t feel any pull toward them at all. I wouldn’t shy away from spending time with a friend who has kids, I just don’t want that kind of responsibility full-time.
I saw how much my mother struggled and sacrificed to provide for me. Maybe that makes me selfish, but I don’t think I’m decisive enough to be a good parent. I barely take care of myself most days.
Lucky laughs, running off with his tepid hot chocolate held to his chest. It has a lid with a sipping spout, but I’m not convinced that will keep him from staining his hoodie.
“I’ll follow him,” I tell Charlotte as she waits to pay for the hot cocoa and one for herself.
“Thanks,” she says, digging in her purse.
I take off after the preschooler… Toddler?
Shit.
I have no idea.
This is another reason why I would make a garbage parent. The idea of being responsible for teaching someone how to read and do math is scary. Let alone the weight of ensuring they’re raised well enough that they end up being a decent human being.
That is way too much pressure.
I’m more geared toward being a fun aunt, but unfortunately, I’m an only child. Unless I were to count Wilder, which I don’t.
“Hey, little man. I need you to chill,” I call out, chasing him through the crowd.
He listens, stopping in his tracks, but he also does a ninety-degree turn and takes off again with zero warning.
Jeez.
Honestly, how do kids survive to adulthood? It’s like they all have a death wish.
Lucky slams into the legs of a giant man, and his hot chocolate goes flying all over the guy’s pant leg as the cup explodes.
The asshole growls, giving his leg a shake, which I could understand if the liquid was hot like coffee or something.
He knocks into Lucky, and the kid goes flying, landing on his bum.
It’s clear the man didn’t kick with all his might, but it’s still totally uncalled for.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I hiss, glaring at the man as I run forward and squat to scoop up the boy.
Okay, damn.
I didn’t expect him to be so sturdy at only three years old, but I manage to get to my feet with Lucky on my hip. I hold him with an arm around his lower back and brush the sand off his leg with the other.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah.” His small head bobs.
“Hey, lady. How about you watch your fucking kid?” the man growls, glaring.
If looks could kill, he’d be hitting the ground right about now, but I know when to stand my ground and when to retreat. Two large, equally angry, men have joined the first, and I smile tightly as I back away.
“Sorry. Have a good night.” And with that, I hightail it back to Charlotte.
Surprisingly, Charlotte isn’t furious with me. I explain what happened, but she shrugs it off, suggesting we go wait in line to walk through the elves’ village. At the end, Lucky gets to meet Santa and Mrs. Claus.
If there wasn’t a line of children waiting for their turn behind us, I might have snuck onto Santa’s lap to beg for a smoking-hot alpha of my own to take my mind off Wilder.
I’ve been in a funk since yesterday, and the more I think about spending the holidays alone, the more depressed I become.
Not to mention how creepy that jerk was earlier. I didn’t like the way he looked at me or Lucky. If I had my own growly alpha to follow me around, protecting me, I certainly wouldn’t have backed down from telling that asshole what I thought.
I shiver, buttoning up my jacket as we step back onto the sidewalk after meeting Santa.
“Crap, that’s my landlady.” Charlotte steps to the side, answering her phone. She’s got Lucky on one hip, and the little guy looks beat.
I smile and wave as he blinks at me, but everything in me says he’s done for the night. He ran and played hard. I guess kids his age crash just as hard with little warning.
“Shit,” Charlotte says, dropping her phone into her purse. “There’s a water leak in my bathroom, and the plumber won’t be able to stop by until tomorrow morning. I need to run home and check on everything. Do you want me to drop you off on my way there?”
I shake my head before I can even think it through fully. “I’m going to peek at a few of the trinket shops and maybe grab a decaf coffee.”
She seems hesitant to abandon me when she’s the one who invited me out, but Lucky snoozes against her shoulder, proving how little she needs to be worried about me.
We say our goodbyes, and she leaves while I head off to look for gifts or decorations. It’s not like I have anywhere else to be.
The market is wrapping up when I finally decide to call it a night. It’s cooled off significantly over the last hour, and even my coat and scarf aren’t doing the job to keep me warm.
I’m familiar enough with the area to know exactly which direction to head to find the bus stop.
I’m not sure when the next bus runs, but once I get there, I’ll check the schedule.
If it’s a ridiculous wait, I’ll get a rideshare or cab, but I probably shouldn’t splurge unless I’ll be waiting an extreme amount of time.
I lost out on four appointments’ worth of earnings tonight plus tips, but I don’t regret coming out, even if I went a little overboard on my spending.
I found an adorable snowman family that I couldn’t pass up, and I grabbed a set of earrings and a bracelet for my mom.
I’ll have to mail the gift to her, and she won’t get it until after she gets back from her cruise, but I think she’ll love it.
I follow the sidewalk down until the tables become sparse, and I can no longer hear the Christmas music playing through the speakers. It’s weird seeing this part of downtown closed to traffic, but they do something similar for the farmer’s market.
The side streets are littered with families and other marketgoers heading to the lots or parking garages where they paid what I’m sure is an astronomical amount to park their cars for three hours.
The farther I get away from the market, the more deserted the streets become.
A shiver runs down my spine—not from the frigid temperature—and I pick up my pace.
Whatever set off my instincts isn’t something I want to come face-to-face with.
My sneakers bounce against the pavement, but the noises behind me sound like I’m being followed.
I fight the urge to look over my shoulder while debating between heading straight down the empty street or taking a right into the small alley that I know lets out near the front of a busy sports bar. It cuts between the two main streets at an angle, and I’ve taken it during the day.
My impulses scream to get as far away from here as fast as possible, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. It’s so unexpected that I dig in my bag, searching for my phone.
“Hey, bitch. Where’s your kid?” a low, growly voice asks from behind me at the same time a hand wraps in my hair.