Chapter 7
Seven
Damon
“About fucking time, man.”
My brother snatches the plastic bowl of nachos from me.
“There was a line.” I shrug.
“Yeah. I bet. You mean the one winding around Santa Land. Every dude in town has been grabbing kids to get in line with to catch a glimpse of that naughty elf you’re so hung up on.”
I roll my eyes at him and try not to give him the reaction he’s gunning for.
The next hour is slow. I kill time watching the family’s shop.
Couples flirt. Counting how many trees we haven’t sold and how many times the greatest hits of Christmas CD belts on a loop from the speakers set up in various places around the booths.
Seven. By the fifth loop, I’m ready to bash my skull into a bundle of spruce, but I get distracted by the sight of a woman in a bright pink ski jacket dragging her kid towards our lot.
Jace spots them too. Business hasn’t been the greatest. I told him, this spot sucks.
He puts on his best marketing face, the one that makes him look like he gives a shit and is happy to be here. “Welcome to Grim Hollow Pines,” he calls out the name of our farm, “you searching for anything in particular?”
The woman barely glances at him. She’s too busy glaring at me—her eyes catch on the tattoos, then flick to the scar on my knuckle where I split it open on one of the trees. She tugs her kid closer, like I’m contagious.
I smile at her slowly and calculated. It’s childish, but I get a kick out of making people squirm. I’m like my brother in that way.
Her kid, a little guy in a gray beanie, points at a scrawny tree that’s already half-dead. “That one,” he says, voice muffled behind his scarf.
Jace squats down to the kid’s level, all the charm of a southern gentleman. “That’s a great tree. Want to help me chop the bottom so it’ll stay healthy?”
The woman hesitates, then nods. “Okay, but—” Her snooty gaze cuts to me again, then to the ink on my arms. “Can he be the one to do it?”
“Damon has steady hands,” he says, with just enough edge to his voice to make it a warning. He can poke at me all he wants because we’re brothers, but he hates when other people talk shit about me. “He’ll show you how it’s done.”
The kid jerks his scarf down. “Please, Mom.” He bounces on the balls of his feet.
“Be careful.”
I grab the handsaw, twirl it once, and kneel beside the kid. He stares at the blade, all wide-eyed and full of awe. Slow and gentle I show him how to hold the handle, then guide his gloved hands as we make the first cut. He grins like he’s just earned a new perk on his favorite video game.
“Hold it tight,” I warn. “See how the saw jerks out of place if you go too fast? Easy does it. The blade will do the job for you.”
The woman pays Jace while I finish the cut. I hand the kid the disk of wood, still sticky with fresh sap. “Souvenir,” I tell him.
“Cool.” He grins, running a finger along the edge. His cunt of a mom doesn’t say thank you. She grabs his wrist, urging him toward their car like there’s smoke.
Jace shoves the cash in the box and tears off a receipt. “Nice to see Mistletoe Pines’ Christmas spirit is alive and well.”
I snort. “Nothing like tattoos and a criminal record to put people in a giving mood.”
He shakes his head but doesn’t comment further.
We haul the tree to the lady’s vehicle, bungee it to the roof, and watch them drive off. As soon as the car’s out of sight, Jace sighs and lights a cigarette, hands trembling just enough for me to notice.
I lean against our truck. “Thought you quit?”
“Nah,” he admits, exhaling hard. “Might start drinking if this night gets any worse.”
I don’t say anything. I know what’s on his mind. Our father’s health and the pressure to continue traditions that are dying out.
Everyone orders faux pre-lit trees these days.
We used to have cars lined up for the chance to come cut down the perfect tree. Now we’d be lucky to give them away.
“That why you don’t want to ask her out?” Jace motions toward the booths.
I see what he’s talking about, and my blood boils.
Hadley is walking around with Nick.
“Something like that.” I light up a cigarette and pretend I don’t give a fuck.
Jace knows better, but he’s smart enough not to poke at this wound.
I’ve had the hots for Hadley since we were kids.
She’s always been mine.
“Dude is a fucking tool.”
He’s a dead man, that’s what he is.
I watch Hadley from the shadows as she watches Nick walk away. Nick is even worse than Tony. I take my eyes off her for a few minutes, and she’s got another suitor. Damn her and that fucking elf costume.
I pull out my phone and type out a text.
Unknown: Having fun?
Hadley pulls out her phone and reads the message. She twirls around, studying the last of the festivalgoers. She’s looking for me. She won’t find me. Not unless I want her to. I have other business to attend to but couldn’t resist toying with my heart’s desire.
Her fingers fly across her phone. She types out a response, and I know what she’s doing. Hoping that once she hits send that my phone will buzz and alert her to my location.
Hadley: Sounds like you already know the answer to your question.
She stands utterly still, watching and listening. Disappointment fills her expression when she can’t figure out where I am.
Unknown: When I catch you, you’re mine, little elf.
Hadley: If you catch me.
I grin to myself, tucking my phone back in my pocket, leaving her on read. She stomps back to the booth where Sydney waits, and I go in the opposite direction. I’m going to find that asshole Nick.
I disappear further into the dark alley, axe in hand.
My boots crunch on the ground as the slush refreezes as the temperature drops.
I find him easily enough. He’s helping his sister load toy donations into the back of her SUV.
The two of them make me sick. They put on a good act.
Pretending that they give a fuck about anyone. They’re as fake as fake comes.
“Oh my God. Did you see her boobs? She was practically throwing herself at you. Can you say desperate?”
“Don’t get your panties in a twist. She’s just some holiday fun. An easy lay.” He chuckles, and all I see is red.
I’m about to make my move to catch the pair of them unaware and make them pay, but Hadley comes forward, holding a forgotten box of donations. I didn’t even hear her approaching. Must be the anger buzzing in my ears.
She drops the box behind them as they laugh at each other’s asinine comments.
“An easy lay,” Hadley says, giving Nick a shove from behind.
“Hey. What the fuck?” He spins around, an icy glare directed at her.
“You forgot a box at the donation box, but here’s a tip for free. Stay away from me.”
Nick’s sister lets out a chortle and nearly doubles over laughing. “You thought my brother would ever go for a skank like you?”
Nick shakes his head, bending down to grab the donation box.
Hadley reaches past him, grabbing a tire iron from the trunk space.
She swings it, catching Nick’s bitch sister in the chin as she looks up mid-laugh.
Her head snaps back, her eyes bulging as she loses her footing and slips on the ice on the sidewalk.
Her head connects with the cement, bouncing on impact.
Nick stares at the two of them in horror and shock.
“I’m sorry,” Hadley whispers, clutching the tool in her hands as she gapes at Nick.
He takes one step toward her, and I pull down my ski mask and step out of the shadows with my axe.