Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
EVE
Twenty minutes later, I’m wearing not only a hat, but also a red and green tunic with actual jingle bells that announce my presence with all the subtlety of a cardiac arrest.
“Looking good, Foster,” Adam says, his Santa hat at an angle that is definitely not FDA-approved for holiday wear.
“You owe me,” I mutter, but there’s no real bite to it.
When the mayor waves us over, I spot Adam’s parents while Noelle vibrates with glee as we shuffle to the tree, surrounded by more people than my aunt’s oceanfront Fourth of July bash.
“Ready to light this tree?” the mayor asks, handing Adam a comically large switch.
Adam leans in, his breath warm against my ear. “Come here, Foster. Hold it with me.”
There are so many jokes I could make about holding large things with him, but we’re in public, in costume, surrounded by children with developing brains and impressionable neural pathways.
His hand covers mine on the switch, his body warm against my back. The countdown begins, the crowd chanting with an enthusiasm that would be concerning in any medical setting.
“Three... Two... One!”
We pull the switch together, and the tree explodes with light. Actual gasps ripple through the crowd, and even I have to admit it’s... impressive. The white and gold lights twinkle against the snow, reflecting in Adam’s eyes when I turn to look at him.
“You’re missing it,” he murmurs, nodding toward the tree.
“I’m seeing something better,” I reply before I can diagnose myself with temporary insanity. The way he looks at me—like he can see every layer I’ve carefully constructed, every defense mechanism, every wall, and still wants more... makes my heart flutter in the best possible way.
My usual caution weakens against the warmth in his eyes. Maybe this is different. Maybe I can trust this feeling.
As he leans closer, Frank steps toward us, camera phone raised.
“Santa and his elf! Smile for the Pine Creek newsletter,” he announces, loud enough for nearby townsfolk to turn our way.
Adam’s arm slides around my waist, a casual claim that sends heat spiraling through me. “Since when are you on the newsletter committee, Frank?”
“Since Sally drafted me twenty minutes ago.” Frank snaps several photos. “I need a few more. Stand closer to the tree?”
I recognize the deliberate interruption, but Adam’s thumb traces small circles above my hip bone, almost making me miss Frank’s next words.
“My sister used to play Mrs. Claus. Before DC.”
Adam’s fingers tighten almost imperceptibly. “Frank—”
“Just sharing town traditions,” Frank says innocently, though his eyes are anything but. “Did Adam tell you he and Faye would practice their Santa routines? They had this whole North Pole role-play thing going.”
The suggestive undertone is impossible to miss. Adam tenses beside me.
“Actually,” I say, finding that clinical detachment that’s saved me in countless awkward situations, “I’ve been developing my own elf methodology. Very cutting-edge. Involves reminding people being a dick isn’t hot.”
Adam’s surprised laugh vibrates through me where our bodies touch. Frank blinks, caught off-guard, then gives me an appraising look.
“Fine. I can take a hint.” He lowers his camera, but before melting back into the crowd, he adds, “Word of advice? When Adam Harrison shows his cards, make sure you see the whole hand, not only what he wants you to see.”
He nods once to Adam and disappears into the crowd. The tension remains, but Adam’s hand is still on my waist, his touch more deliberate now.
“Thank you,” he murmurs against my ear, his breath warm against my skin.
“For what?”
“For putting Frank in his place like that.” His lips brush my temple, the contact brief but electric. “It was... impressive.”
“I’ve had practice managing difficult patients,” I reply, but my voice lacks its usual clinical edge.
Right then, Sally’s infamous mules decide this is their moment to shine. They prance through the crowd wearing light-up antlers, doing what can only be described as synchronized Christmas prancing.
“Are they... dancing?” I ask, trying not to laugh.
“Naughty and Naughtier’s holiday spectacular,” Adam confirms. “They do this every year.”
“Of course they do,” I say, but I’m smiling now. Actually smiling.
The mules circle the tree, clearly very pleased with themselves, before coming to a stop directly in front of us and executing what looks suspiciously like a bow.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter as the crowd applauds.
“Best-trained mules in the state,” Adam says with a wink.
Megan rushes over, clapping with delight. “Did you see? Did you see?”
“Hard to miss,” I tell her, unable to resist her enthusiasm.
“They’re showing off for you,” she declares with absolute certainty. “Uncle A. said you were special.”
My eyes snap to Adam’s face, catching the slight flush on his cheeks that has nothing to do with his fake Santa beard.
“Did he now?”
“Uh-huh. He said to Dad the other night that you make the best Christmas pickles.”
The image of my alien phallus pickle in its festive hat pops into my mind, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“I think that’s enough, Megs,” Adam says, ruffling her hair.
“But you did! You said she was pretty and in—in—intelligent and your uni…corn? And that you wanted to—”
“Hot chocolate time,” Wes cuts in, giving his daughter a meaningful look.
My face warms, but as Wes leads Megan away, my thoughts drift to Frank and his comments. I lean toward Adam. “So, Frank mentioned Faye again,” I say, watching his expression. “Your ex.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw, but his eyes remain steady. “I told you. If you want to ask questions, I’ll answer.”
“I don’t want to be in the middle. Or... I don’t want you to think you need to stick around because we’re sharing a room. Maybe she’s the one.”
“Just so we’re clear. I’m not sticking around because we’re sharing a room. Not even because I’ve been hard for weeks every time I smell vanilla. Because it makes me think of you. Do you know how much vanilla there is during the holiday season? I want to be with you.”
“Oh... okay.”
“Faye and I are over. Really over. We dated for almost two years before I got over... well, a lot of things. I should have given myself more time. She thought it was serious. I thought it was, too. But… I stayed with her for all the wrong reasons.” The way he looks at me makes it clear what he means.
“And when I was given an out, I took it. She was passionate about her work, organized community outreach programs.”
“You loved her?” The question slips out.
He considers this. “I thought I did.” He rubs the back of his neck.
“But when she got that outreach job and I told her I couldn’t leave, she said she didn’t even know the real me.
Said I was so busy being Dr. Harrison, solving everyone’s problems, that I never let her see past that.
” He laughs without humor. “The worst part? She was right. I even tried to fix her when she didn’t need fixing.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d told anyone what I actually wanted, what I was afraid of. ”
He leans closer. “I’ve been with women I cared about. But I’ve never felt this pull. You know how emperor penguins find their mates among thousands of identical birds by the sound of their call? That’s what this feels like. I still know your voice, after all this time.”
My heart stutters as my fingers trace the scar beneath my collarbone. “You would have tried to fix me, too,” I whisper.
“Back then? Absolutely.” His eyes hold mine.
“I’d have tried to be your doctor instead of your partner.
But now? I’d move the earth to stand beside you.
I wouldn’t try to fix everything. I’d listen.
I’d feel with you, even when feeling means feeling powerless.
” His thumb finds my pulse. “We’d find ways to climb out of the dark together. ”
His lips quirk into his crooked smile. “And we’d argue, too.
We’d disagree. But we’d do it honestly, not with me swallowing what I think to keep the peace.
That’s the difference, actually being in it together, messy parts and all.
” He clears his throat. “And I’d make mistakes, too.
Shit. The thought of you hurting has me wanting to punch the wind.
But the thought of not being there for you? It wrecks me.”
His raw honesty steals my breath, each word settling into me like a physical touch.
Before I can respond without resorting to medical terminology for attraction, Sally calls out. “Coats in the closet, dears! Hot cider for the carolers!”
The closet we enter is barely large enough for one person, let alone two adults with a one-night rule hanging by a thread
I reach up to hang my elf hat, my sweater riding up.
“Allow me,” Adam murmurs, his chest pressing against my back as he takes the hat. The full length of him aligns with me. Solid, warm, undeniably aroused.
“Adam,” I murmur, leaning back into him. His hand settles on my hip, fingers splaying possessively across my lower abdomen.
“I’m developing a new appreciation for elves,” he says, his thumb tracing circles above my hip bone.
A laugh bubbles up, transforming into a gasp as his other hand slides around my waist. I turn within the circle of his arms, my back against the wall.
“I think my one-night rule needs a second opinion,” I whisper, hands fisting in his sweater. “All my vital signs suggest I made a diagnostic error.”
His eyes darken as his gaze drops to my mouth. One hand braces against the wall while the other cups my jaw.
“You know what Liv would say,” he murmurs. “Sometimes the brain wants what the brain wants.”
“Pretty sure she’d say zombie appetites are insatiable.”
“And she’d be right.”
When his mouth claims mine, it’s not tentative. My hands slide into his hair as his tongue traces my lips. He tastes like peppermint and possibility, and I’m desperate for more.